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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 1 year

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can i request a steve x reader he leaves the reader for peggy and then regret, when he comes back he learns that the reader was pregnant and their child (a son) is 1 now and it's just all fluff. tyyy 🥺💕

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Death Grievance, and idk more baby fluff.

REQUESTED

A/N: Well, well, well, i do feel like this one was rushed but sorry on my part and sorry for such a long wait, I hope whoever requested this is still active and I given the much fluff that I could. Enjoy :)

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This day was known to you for your entire life, the day Tony created a time traveling device to bring back humanity, you knew in your lover’s mind, would look forward too. You talked about it before the mission to travel back in time with the team. “Go.”

“What?”

Steve tried to look for a glance of your eyes to convince himself you were serious. “After this is all done…” You say below a whisper, trying not to cry. “This is your chance, Steve.” He was confused to even speak until you turned around and looked up to him. “You can finally live in your own time–” Steve began to shake his head, knowing your mind was not in the right place to say things like this ever since their friends disappeared after the snap. “Don’t. I’m not going back–”

“But you’ve long for her, Steve. I’ve known it for so long–”

“But I have you,” Steve caresses your cheek but you don’t lean into it like you used to, “I found you and you gave me a life.” You shook your head and you failed to keep tears from falling. “You have another chance at life. A chance to live your timeline, Steve.” He brushes your hair out of your face, “But I choose this.”

“Give it some time to think, then. I want you to be with her. I love you so much, but it’d make me happy to see you in your time and your love.” Steve couldn’t fight back anymore, your mind was made up at that moment and maybe you were just in a state where you couldn’t think. So he gently kisses the top of your head and whispers, “Okay.” After the mission and successfully causing another destruction of a war, bringing back friends and family. You managed to fracture an arm and managed to save a life. “Return the stones and we can finally live in peace,” Tony said. It was a terrifying moment where Tony had lost his arm due to the use of the Gauntlet to end the war. “Hey, there’s my armless friend,” Tony says, in a monotone voice.

“I still have both my arms, Tony,” You replied with a small grin. He grins, “Well, in just a few days, I won’t be armless either. I’m a mechanic, yknow that?” You chuckled softly and looked up to see Sam, following up with Bucky and then… Steve. He was dressed in the uniforms for the Quantum Realm, holding a case and the scepter of Loki’s, standing on the platform. He was smiling at the boys until he lost it when he saw you. Last night, he finally made the decision.

“So?”

“I’m going back,” He says. It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for, but it still made you happy.

You smiled weakly, “I know.”

There was no kiss given after that nor ever since the first time you two talked about it. You two were spaced from each other. Though he still wore the ring and you wore yours. You noticed that Steve pulled something from his body and handed it to Bucky, talking to him and Bucky glanced at you then smiled. Sam too glances and waves. “So…” Tony says, walking towards you, “...how we feeling?” You looked over to Steve and saw him determined to drop off the stones and scepter at once but you smiled, “I’m happy.” Then Tony saw you walk away without saying Goodbye to Steve.

The next day, you woke up with a horrible sound in your throat. You jump up and rush over to the bathroom, feeling things come up in an instant. A soft knock hit your door and in came Bucky, “Y/N?” He calls, he notices the light in the bathroom was on. “In here!” You call back, he comes towards the bathroom and gently knocks. “You okay?” You came out and had a toothbrush in your cheek. “I guess I ate something bad from the fridge. That casserole Natasha made.”

“Yeah, that’s probably been in there for a while.” You groan and spit out the paste into the sink. Bucky leans on the door frame, “I just want to know how you’re feeling after what happened yesterday or earlier–” You turn around and sigh, “I’m fine, Buck. I just…” You touch your forehead, “I’m just tired of everything.” Bucky nods and makes his way over, “I know.” He gently pulls you into a hug. “I got something that Steve wanted me to give to you–”

“I don’t want it.”

“But I think he wants you to,” Bucky slides something heavy in your hand and something small along with it. He gently slips from your arms and walks out. You open your eyes and glance down at your hand to see a small notebook and a ring. Steve’s Wedding ring. Its gold never lost its shine and his book filled with things he wanted to watch or read. Even small notes about what he loved about this timeline. What he loved about you. There are sketches of you in any scenario whenever he sees you. You slid against the wall and began to cry, holding the ring and the book close to you.

1949, New York

The soft music playing in the back was just like what it was before. The sun shining through the silk curtains and the cars passing by. Her arms wrapped around his arms and her usual red velvet lips pulled into a smile. When the music ended, Steve twirls Peggy and holds her, slightly swaying. “You’re really not going to tell me what happened in the future?”

Steve grins and rubs her back, “It’s better not to. It’s in good hands no matter what.” Peggy pulls away and lets go of his hand, “I got to do some work, would you mind cleaning the dishes?” Steve nods and smiles. “Of course.” Peggy heads into her office, leaving Steve on his own to do what he needed to do. Making his way over to the kitchen, he trips over something behind the couch, peeking out under it. He noticed it was the Advanced Tech suit. Reaching for it, he picks it up, observing it again before something falls onto the floor with a clank. He looks down and sees an open compass. Reaching down for it, he lifts it up and he suddenly drops. A picture of Y/N. There was a moment where he suddenly forgot about Peggy and replaced the image but you gave him something he never thought he’d have in life. It was different from being with Peggy, he wasn’t so sure what it was but it felt different, things he wanted from Peggy was what he got from Y/N.

Even after a few months with Peggy, he felt off. “Who’s she?” Peggy asked, Steve flinched and turned around to see Peggy who didn’t look upset. “Can I see?” She asks, Steve lets her take the picture and she grins. “She’s beautiful.”

“She was.”

Peggy looks up to him and she softly grins, “You loved her, didn’t you?” Steve didn’t want to admit it but he did. Peggy could read him and she pushed the compass to his hand. “Go back.” Steve lifts his head up to her. “What–” Peggy cuts him off, sincerely. “You spent more years with her than you have with me. I can tell you have regrets. You loved her, married her and you just let that strong woman tell you to come back to me.” Peggy holds his hand and kisses it. “You need to go back. This regret is going to take over you and make things worse.” Steve lowers his head and tightens his grip on the compass.

2025

You woke up to the sound of wailing. Getting up from your bed, you make your way over to the other room, “You are such a light sleeper like your father, son.” You pick up your little boy from the crib and bring him to your bed to lay with you. Your son was just one year old and he was your little soldier. You struggled to take care of him because of how much he resembles Steve. His blue eyes and blonde hair, usually after a bath, his hair would raise up as if static was pulling his hair up. Your son coos and lays on his stomach, looking over to you as you fall asleep again. You wake up and notice your son is missing. You jump up and rush to search for him until you hear his Godfather’s cooing. You turn the corner and see Bucky playing with your son on the floor with the toys, Bucky turns and grins. “He’s almost walking, you know?” Bucky was helping your son balance on his feet, urging him to walk forward while holding him.

“If you’re still tired, you can go back to bed, I can handle this little booger–” Your son smiles at him and you smile. “I might get cleaned up and take him with me to visit a friend.” Bucky nods and turns his gaze to you. “I’ll feed him and dress him.” You thanked him softly and left to take a shower. After washing up, Bucky managed to dress him up and feed him. You put your son in the car seat, buckling him in, making sure the mirror above him is fixed to allow you to see him through your rearview mirror. “Love you, bubba,” You place a kiss on his forehead and close the door to drive into town. Every Thursday, you visit a friend of yours and show her how much your son has grown and ask for some advice since she was there for you all the time.

You pull into the driveway and see the headstones lined up. You gently take your son out of the car and make your way over to one of the headstones. “She’s your aunt, now. If she was here, bubs, she’d be your godmother.” Your son coos and chews on his finger. Crouching down in front of the headstone, you read the name. Natasha Romanoff. You place your son next to you, holding him as he looks over to the trees and the leaves blowing. You were in your thoughts, listening for some thoughtful answer to give her some hope. You got so lost that you didn’t realize your son left your arms. You didn’t notice he was actually walking one step at a time to something behind.

You hear him coo and your head snaps to look. “Hey!” You stand up and your face drops. Your son was now in the arms of his father. His smile was struggling to appear because he was in disbelief, “This one knows who his father is, does he?” Steve says. You smiled with tears falling down your face as Steve made his way towards you. Wrapping your arms around him, you began to sob into his arms. “I thought you were–”

“I know, I know,” He says, leaning his cheek on your head, smiling at the usual fragrance smell you always had that smelled so good, “Someone told me that you’re my life, right here.” You smiled weakly and held both your favorite boys in your arms. “Please tell me you’re really here…” You breathe out, Steve pulls away to look at you and kisses you. This kiss felt more real than ever, it was the best feeling you’ve felt ever since the last week Steve had left. Your son chatters causing you two to pull away and smile at him. “Let’s go home,” Steve says, smiling with such pure happiness. It wasn’t too long that Steve instantly started becoming the greatest person in the house. You can hear him and your son playing, even chatting with Bucky who was happy to have Steve back. Everyone was happy and you never felt like you were neglecting yourself and your son anymore.

Steve watched his son walk towards him, holding a small toy, “You walk so good, better than Bucky.”

“Hey, I got a sore limp, okay?” Bucky retorts, Steve chuckles and kisses his son’s cheek. “I think it’s bedtime for you, soldier,” Steve stands up and makes his way over to the chair to rock his son in his arms. Your son babbles at Steve and he gives him a stare, “Language, soldier. I didn’t ask.” Your son laughs and it causes his father to laugh.

You were busy finishing up some paperwork of payments or just anything having to do with manufacturing for the industries of the Avengers. It was pretty late and you were relaxed knowing Steve was able to be there, but you weren’t too sure if Steve was retiring from Avengers work or taking a short break, for now, your family is now your priority. The lights went out when you left and you heard Steve in the bedroom. Peaking through, you see him sitting on the chair with your son in his arms, asleep. You laugh softly causing Steve to look up, he smiles.

“I can never get him to sleep within his bedtime,” You say, Steve looks down at his son and shakes his head. “Just needs a little patting and singing. Just like what you do with me.” You grin knowing Steve does fall asleep when you hum his favorite song and rub his back. You watch as he slips the baby into the crib and tucks him in. “I hope I’m being a good father. I’m sorry I didn’t know about this–” You take Steve’s shoulder and rub it, “It’s okay, I didn’t know either. You’re such a great father.”

“I’m just glad he doesn’t have anything that I had as a baby.”

You lean on his arm, “Even if he does, he’s going to beat up every bad guy in an alleyway.” Steve chuckles and pulls you into his side. Steve never knew he would miss such a great memory of spending his time with people who are truly his family. You and his son. Peggy would be very happy no matter what and that she has her own loving family. “I love you,” He says, you glance at him and he’s already looking at you. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, too.” He kisses you softly and hugs you after pulling from your lips. This feeling wasn’t going to die for the both of you.

You were sleeping but felt something crawling on the side of you, turning around, you open your eyes and see your son’s blue eyes and his large smile. “Say, ‘Good morning, mama’,” Steve says behind him, laying down as well. You smiled, “Good morning, my son.” Your son lays down with a plop and Steve reaches around and tickles him. “You’re vulnerable, you’re in no man’s land!” He says, your son giggles and kicks his feet. You laugh with them and brushed the blonde strands out of your son’s face. That day, you thought about bringing Steve and your son to go visit Tony. There were a lot of fun activities, you thought about having your son play with Morgan who very much loves him so much. Steve thought about putting his and his son’s feet in the water, which your son kept kicking the water and splashing all over, soaking Steve’s pants.

Apparently at the time, you never stayed at the Avengers Headquarters and stayed with the Starks, so the photo album they had, had your pregnancy pictures and as well little pictures of your son when he was first born and his growing up progress. Steve enjoyed seeing the pictures of you being pregnant, you were just so beautiful no matter how big your stomach was and it made him slightly sad that he wasn’t there during it. The pictures of his son made him happy, too, seeing his first birthday pictures and his time with Morgan and Tony. It was a nice thing to see. That day, they had ended the night and Steve was waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing. Your son slept in the other room with Bucky since he wanted him for the night. Steve noticed you walked in and he made his way over to you. “I’m so tired–” You yawn, before you could speak again, Steve kissed you hard that time making you pull back in surprise. “Steve–?”

“I want a new photo album.”

“Huh?” You ask in confusion. He chuckles, “I want a photo album of us.” He gently places his hand on your stomach, “And I want to live through this part.” Your eyes widened and you realized now why Steve was like this. You didn’t say anything and gave him another kiss. He smiles in the kiss and whispers an ‘I love you’ before carrying you to bed. He then got to live through the life he missed.

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#steve rodgers x reader #father!steve rogers x reader #opti-dino-nacho #chris evans imagines #chris evans x reader #optimistic dinosaur nachos

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stevierogersbabygirl · 2 months

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Teacher's Pet

Professor!Steve Rogers x problematic reader

Run-through: You were never a diligent student, but ever since professor Rogers noticed, his teaching methods changed your grades forever.

Warnings : mentions of divorce, daddy issues, drugs and alcohol

Themes : Slight angst, smut (cock warming, clothed + vaginal sex)

Your parents divorced when you were 12, giving your mom sole custody of you.

Your father was abusive, he'd emotionally abuse you and never be there for your emotional needs, and your mother tried her best to raise you alone.

But life was hard growing up without a father figure.

You were now 22, and things did not get any better.

You were friends with the wrong people, who were only interested in drugs, alcohol, and lots of sex.

You'd join in, skipping college just to do those activities, and your group was so notorious that the whole campus knew about it.

They were unable to do anything about it, as some of the guys from your gang had parents who had donated to the college for years.

It was almost the first day of the second semester in college, and you and your group planned to go as you guys always went on the first day.

You got bored during most of the lessons, until one class.

A professor resigned and was replaced by a guy named Dr. Steve Rogers.

Holy fuck, he was so hot. From his properly styled blonde hair to his beautiful blue eyes accompanied by long eyelashes, to his pretty lips, to his height, to his abs and biceps.

Suddenly you wanted to attend college again.

Once you were out of his class, you went to your gang and gossiped all about him.

They'd tease you that "Y/N will one hundred percent fuck him for grades", or "Go suck his dick after class". You laughed along with them.

Your crush on that man started to develop more and more, as you attended his classes, and only his classes.

Before and after he taught, you'd always be with your gang, somewhere else, doing something terrible.

But you just had to be in Steve's class for the eye candy.

Unfortunately, though, Steve was teaching one of the harder subjects, and your grades remained the same.

One day, Steve called you after class ended, into his office.

You excitedly went there, fighting back a smile while walking.

You went back into character before knocking on the door, and he went to open it, and you instantly noticed a slight frown on his face, while inviting you to sit down.

After you sat down in front of his desk, he went behind the desk to sit on his chair.

"Y/N, we have to talk about your grades." He said softly, with a concerned look on his face.

You were so mesmerized at first by his beautiful self, that you didn't say anything leaving an awkward silence between the both of you.

"Y/N?" He asked.

You knew this would end up like other meetings about grades. You knew you'd just fail again and didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of a man like him.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I will work on them soon, I have to go now, bye!" You said rather sheepishly, getting up and slowly walking towards the door.

"I didn't tell you to leave." He said in an authoritative voice, causing you to embarrassingly hurry back into your chair.

"Y/N. This is a serious matter, and I've heard of how other professors seem to fail to help your grades." He said in his deep, slightly intimidating voice.

The thought of Steve talking about you to other teachers instantly made your heart flutter, but you had to focus on his serious words.

"So Y/N, I've come up with a strategy. Meet me at my house this evening." He said, handing you a piece of paper with his address on it.

You looked at it in surprise.

After the meeting, you skipped the next class to be with your friends, and they'd have their chitchats but it felt like background noise.

All you could think about was the paper.

Throughout those hours, you wondered what Steve wanted to do about your studies, at his house.

Why would he even invite you to his house?

That's when you had sexually intrusive thoughts, imagining Steve doing the most sinful, sexual things to you, and it made your underwear dampen on those occasions.

In the evening, you walked through his neighborhood to find his house and you finally did, knocking on the door.

Steve opened and invited you into the living room.

You sat on the opposite side of him in the dining room.

After some small talk and as he served you some cookies, he said something rather interesting.

"I heard about your gang, all the sex and stuff, so can you tell me some things regarding it?" He said while mixing his coffee with a small teaspoon.

Your heart jumped hearing those words come out of his mouth, and you had to remove the brain fog to find an answer to it.

"Oh yeah, sure. Well, I've been hooking up with guys since I was 19, they'd pay me for it, and I'd get pregnant on multiple occasions but unfortunately aborted." You said.

You don't know why you said all of that, especially to your professor.

Steve looked at you with a face that had an emotion hard to detect and took a sip of his coffee, he placed it on the table.

"What was the biggest one you took?" He said casually, looking at you, a smirk forming on his face.

Shock filled your face, and your mouth gaped slightly open.

Did your professor ask that?

But you knew that, if you guys were about to have sex, you'd like it too.

This man knew he was extremely hot.

"Well, 5 inches." You said sheepishly, looking down at your plate full of cookie crumbs.

Steve chuckled, and you presumed it was because of the shyness.

He stopped chuckling and said quieter, "Well I'm 6.5, you okay with that?" He asked.

You looked at him, with your mouth gaped and your brain still processing what he just said.

You eventually nodded, and he patted his lap for you to sit on it.

You eventually sat on his lap, inches away from his face.

"B-but, what does this have to do with the studies?" You'd ask shyly, playing with your hair, making Steve smile.

"Well, since you like sex so much, how about you have your pretty tits out while you sit on my cock, doing all your missing assignments on that laptop you have." He said, smirking and staring into your shy eyes.

No way. No way he just said that.

But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, lots of girls would do anything to fuck their hot professor.

You nodded slowly, looking hypnotized by his beautiful eyes.

In no time, your shirt would be pulled up, revealing your tits, while your underwear was off, and your skirt was covering your pussy as you sat on his large, fat cock, unzipped from his trousers.

You were shaking, a fog clouded in your mind, while you wrote one of your essays, while Steve had both hands on your waist, watching your every move from behind, occasionally playing with your tits

If you were almost finished, Steve would start thrusting up into you and rubbing your clit, and you knew it was worth it.

Once you've submitted, Steve would bring you to his bed to fuck you fast and, hard, and would plant kisses all over your body, showing you that your work was worth it.

You spent less time with your gang, so you'd always give your friends excuses like your mom gave you extra chores, but you were truly at Steve's house, getting your pussy filled while increasing your grades.

For the rest of the college year, you'd sit on his cock half naked, with him fully clothed only with his cock out.

Sometimes you'd request to have casual sex with him, but he'd always reject it, saying that you needed to do an assignment too, which you unfortunately accepted.

But aside from grades, before you'd start doing your assignments, he'd sometimes ask you to give him a blowjob, usually if he's had a stressful day, and you'd agree, which was so unfair.

You never got sex if you weren't doing your work, and he'd always get sex if he'd simply ask.

But he was the hottest fucking guy after all, how could you say no?

#captain america #captain america smut #captain america x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #marvel smut #steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #chris evans

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biteofcherry · 6 months

Text

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

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

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

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

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

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

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

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

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

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid.

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

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

A fucking princess style, out of all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

True was his possessiveness.

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

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

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

“You look beautiful, Princess.”

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

It was also his pride in owning you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With his fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to wreck your body too much.

And you feared how you may react to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit! No!

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were a prey fully ensnared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It almost touched your clit.

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered.

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

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

“Good girl,” he praised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #touch the darkness #my writing

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Floorplan

Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest.

A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.

“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face.

“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas.

“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please.

“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail.

Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor.

And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe.

That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?

You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys.

So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay.

If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on.

Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible.

He gave you a baby.

He gave you a baby, and everything changed.

You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face.

“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow.

“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)

“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it.

He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here.

“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”

“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”

“Steve-“

“No, no. Don’t.”

“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?

Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second.

Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave.

It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby.

“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?”

“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.”

Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before-

He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection.

“How’re my girls today?”

“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved.

“That better sweetheart?”

He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.

“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield.

Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be.

He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise.

“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath.

“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier.

“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.”

“It’s not like I know where you are these days.”

“Don’t. Don’t… start this.”

“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.”

“I don’t care. I’m here.”

He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms.

He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.

“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours.

“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic.

You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?

“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night.

“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots.

“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow.

“Are you?”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers smut #peaches writes #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #chris evans fanfiction

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faintedlcve · 8 months

Note

Hey babe! Absolutely adore your writing! Do you have any recs?

Thanks! And yes! I'm so glad you asked. There's a lot though so it's gonna be a bit long x

Theodore Nott

@cassiopeiasdaughter : an exceptional writer, their Theodore Nott fics based on midnight songs are the best! Wish them good luck on their uni exams and check out their awesome blog xx

Here are some of my personal favourites from their blog:

August: Theo asks you to be his fake-girlfriend but you understand the assignment a little too well.

Fearless: Based on the song fearless by Taylor Swift.

Maroon: A diary entry written during the War based on the song maroon by Taylor Swift.

Check out their other midnights collection entries!

@avalynlestrange: another great writer! one of the best angst writers on this platform in my opinion x they also write mattheo Riddle fics

These ones are my favourite:

@the0doreslover: in love with their Theo fics!

Foolish one: In which you know you’re being foolish in liking Draco but will you finally learn your lesson? Theodore certainly hopes you do.

In my head: In which Theodore Nott is the man of your dreams. Literally. Who is his?

My favourite one is Cooking class xx

Here are a few Theodore Nott fics from writers who's blogs aren't all about Theo xx

I think he knows: you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

Now, I did some digging and @dreamcubed writes about other hp characters as well based on songs by Taylor Swift! Their work is amazing so go check them out! Sorry for the late mention, I just checked and realised that they have like a blog that revolves around hp characters xx

Electric touch: a cute guy stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and it alters your brain chemistry.

I thought you knew:“i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Want you: Based on the following prompts: Why do you always look at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like you… Want me.” and "he doesn't even deserve to be breathing the same air as you"

Butterfly Love: Despite witnessing the death of his mother and being forced to grow under the watch of his Death Eater father, Theodore Nott is living proof that love and care bloom even in the most barren conditions. Maybe, they flourish even more.

Mattheo Riddle

@suugarbabe: their fics are absolutely magnificent. I recommend their saving grace series x the rest parts can be found on their blog x

These are some of my personal favourites:

Always: You & Theo have been best friends since year 1. Everyone things you and Theo are going to end up together but both of you like different people.

Drawings: based on prompts 'i never knew that about you...it's cute' and 'i can't believe I've never seen this side of you before'

Oblivious: contains smut Based on prompts "Are you really so oblivious?" And "Can I kill him now?"

@happilykrispypirate: another fabulous writer! Their mattheo angst fics are like the best x the mistake and don't touch her are my favourite xx

Some of my favourite mattheo fics are listed below x:

Black Quill: You never liked Umbridge, but who did? The woman was miserable and cruel. Her power in the school grew day after day.

Mattheo finds you crying alone: Imagine crying alone in the Astronomy Tower, hoping to escape everyone but Mattheo finds you

Torment : Reader is constantly bullied. Mattheo saves her from the bullies.

Everything and nothing: 1 2: where mattheo brings along a girl none of your group is fond of. Especially you. And the timing of it all is horrible.

Draco Malfoy

@talesofadragon: they have amazing fics and their fluff stories are the best! Check them out for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fics as well if you're interested xx

These are my favourite Draco fics by them. Their Draco masterlist is here.

Even if it's dark: Summary: Despite being raised in a traditional pureblood household with an overly abusive father, Y/N Y/L/N teaches Draco that light can exist even in the darkest of places.

Mittens: When Draco is in a foul mood and unwilling to disclose his problems, Y/N resorts to her animagus form to get him to talk.

@fallingforfictionalcharacterss: whenever I feel like I'm going to go back to my Draco phase I read their fics! Another really good angst writer x Their fics are so cool and I love them xx some of their fics I love:

Falling: Where you are falling for the one boy who is known to break every girl´s heart.

False friends and true love: Where you get into a fight with your best friend and she reveals your feelings for a certain boy in front of everybody.

Ruin your life: Why would you kiss out of all the people the boy you hate the most in this world?

@dreamingonfilm: another great writer! Their fluff fics are my favorite! These are some I love by them:

Pretending: in which you watch Draco as he falls out of love with you

Cramps: In which Draco takes care of you whilst you’re on your period.

Bruises: 1 2: After years of being bullied by Draco, you finally stand up for yourself. However, you left him with more than a bloodied cheek and a bruised jaw.

Some other fics that I love:

Amortentia: the rest parts can be found on that post. Summary: Pansy forces a secret out of you, and you’re strongly debating which curse/jinx to use on her.

Unforgivable: Where y/n gets poisoned because of draco's behaviour

Taylor Swift

This is random but if you want someone to talk to Taylor Swift about, check out @annaisabookworm. They're super sweet and supportive and their blog is about Taylor Swift xx I love their posts x

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 3 months

Text

B-u-c-k-y? Bucky

Pairings: father!Bucky Barnes x child!reader, featuring Steve Rogers x child!reader and Tony Stark x child!reader (all platonic)

Imagine: The beginning of your relationship with your father and a glimpse at the progress

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of Hydra, mention of child mistreatment, mention of experiments, reader describes as tiny to clarify more that hydra treated them bad, mention of medical equipment such as syringes, not proofread, if you find anything else please tell me

A/N so don’t know where this came from but I haven’t been able to write something in months so I’m just happy to be able to write again hopefully, don’t know if I like it or not but here we go anyway enjoy

Kinda short, dunno about 2000 words or so

might make more parts to this

Sparks lit up the dark corridor as Bucky and Steve walked down the stairs to be met with red lights flashing above each door as the alarms blasted their annoyingly high pitched sound that made your ears ring afterwards. One look at each other, they gave a nod and split up as they took one side each of the corridor.

The first room Bucky opened was filled with cabinets made of plastic and in each was different kinds of test tubes with what looked like some kind of poisonous liquid. Syringes were spread out over the desks neatly. Bucky felt chills run down his spine as he saw the hospital bed (or more like a table with white a quilt?) in the middle of the room. Handcuffs made to restrain a person laid neatly on the bed. Blood covering the sides of the bed and his mind went back to 1945, when Arnim Zola experimented on him. Which had coincidentally also been at a hydra base. His gun raised as he searched the room for any kind of lifeforms, when he found none he went on to the next door.

This continued for at least five more doors, some of them being lab rooms and some what looked like prison cells fortified with extra protection, meaning whoever had once been inside couldn’t have fled on their own.

When he opened the sixth door, Bucky scanned the room and had it not been for the red lights flashing once in a while and the lamp that flickered out a dull light he would've missed the tiny child in the room. Knees pressed to their chest. Hospital gown clinging to their skin from blood and cold sweat. The room had cold chills and even for Bucky who tolerated the cold more than others he could feel the freezing temperature in the room. He lowered his gun and put on the softest expression he could muster during these circumstances. Bucky glanced out the door and yelled out with a soft voice (to not startle the child) once for Steve, Bucky’s gaze not soon after fell back to the quivering child, that was you, who stared at him with wide scared eyes.

Bucky took a careful step towards you as he kneeled down slightly to put his gun onto the floor. He gave you what was supposed to look like a kind smile but looked more like a grimace as he thought about what you must have been through. As soon as you saw Bucky coming closer he watched as dark blue smoke covered your tiny frame and not a second after you were gone. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked around the room for you. His eyes fell on the coroner farthest away from him. You had covered your ears with your hands and your eyes were shut. Your body was tense and knees still pressed to your chest as you quivered further into the corner. Bucky stayed in place not knowing entirely what to do. At that moment he saw Steve walk through the door sparing a glance towards you before back at Bucky his shield raised as they both heard people run their way. With a sigh from Bucky they both left you for the time being as Hydra soldiers started to fill the end of the corridor.

As soon as you heard the sound of shots (your hands not able to muffle out the sounds that came right outside of the room you resided in) die down you opened your eyes. You watched with curious eyes as Bucky (not that you knew his name) walked into the room once more. Like before he put his gun down and gave you a kind smile, this time his hand slowly reached out for you. He watched as you pressed yourself girder into the corner as you stared at his hand.

“hey, hey, okay, it’s okay” Bucky raised both his hands into the air to show he meant no harm as he cautiously took another step closer. “I won’t hurt you” Steve watched from the door opening as Bucky interacted with you. His gaze shifted to the metal objects (or what looked like toys for children) in the room that had started to slightly hover over the ground, including Bucky’s gun.

Bucky’s eyes glanced towards the hovering objects and was a tiny bit glad that you hadn’t done anything to his left arm. “What's your name?” he let out a sigh as you didn't answer knowing you probably wouldn't answer anything he asked you, hell he didn’t even know if you could understand him. His head tilted slightly as he took slow steps forward until he knelt in front of you. The metal objects (except his arm) are rising higher into the air.

“are you alright, you hurt?” He said clearly as he watched you start to pick at the side of your arm where blood was running down onto your hospital gown. He watched as you picked at multiple wounds, some of them he could clearly see were from syringes and his eyes saddened. Both Bucky and Steve watched as you pressed yourself deeper into the corner, as you tried to hide the many bruises that littered your body.

“can I-we help you, can you let us help you out of here?” Bucky gestured with his hand to him and Steve as he said the word us. Once more he didn’t get a verbal answer but instead he got you to move out of the corner slightly. Bucky held his hand out to you once more and watched as you carefully placed your tiny hand in his much bigger one. He couldn’t help but to give a soft smile once more towards you.

"Can you walk?” And yet again there was no answer. Bucky looked at you with an uncertain expression as you stood up. Your body swaying from side to side. He carefully and slowly to make sure you could stop him if you wanted to, took you into his arms. Making sure you wouldn’t fall he stood up straight and started to walk towards Steve who smiled slightly at Bucky as he watched you shut your eyes and bury your head into his chest. The metal objects all crashed to the ground with a loud clatter of noise in various directions.

This had all been four months ago and Bucky had finally started to get you to trust him enough for you to let him teach you how to talk, write and read. By now you also trusted the rest of the avengers enough so that you wouldn’t try to hide from all of them except Steve (excluding Bucky). Tony would most days let you sit beside him as he made new iron man suits and at some time along the way he’d let you help him by using your powers to bend a metal the way he wanted it to be. This would in the end result in you running up to Bucky proud of your accomplishments and for Bucky to ruffle your hair and tell you how proud he was. These interactions with Tony also led to you having more control over your powers at least one of them. You still tended to teleport yourself unintentionally to the other side of the room if you were scared.

Today it just so happened that Bucky held another lesson with you to help you speak. So far you were able to say yes and no and some other basic things such as “hungry” and “tired”. However even though you were starting to learn you still most of the time stuck to being nonverbal and only shook your head yes or no or shrugged your shoulders when you didn’t know.

At this moment Bucky had tried to teach you to say his name and so far your tries had been good but as he knew you were a slow learner which he realized the first time he started to teach you, he knew you wouldn't be getting his name right in a while. For Bucky however this was just a minor setback as he felt he had to teach you everything after all as it so happened he was your father.

As soon as you had gotten to the Avengers base they tried to find out if you had any family that had filed a missing child’s report and to know what your name was as you refused to speak (them not knowing you didn’t know how to). Bucky had to promise you that he would be there for every test they did to you to make sure you were as healthy as you could be at that moment for you to let them be near you with any medical devices. As it turned out Hydra had somehow created you from Bucky’s DNA meaning he was listed as the father in the old Htdra records they found at the Hydra base they had attacked. They had also found out that you were around 8-9 years old. There wasn’t a specific date listed anywhere on when your birthday was, only what year you were born. This had shocked all of the heroes as they by the way you looked were way younger. All the more information they gained only made Bucky feel more guilty. Even if he didn’t know about your existence he still felt guilty over the things you had suffered with Hydra. The fact that you looked so much younger made him feel more guilty as it showed how poorly they had taken care of you. If he just looked at you he would assume you were around 5-6 years old and maybe your powers helped your appearance look younger but it still made him feel guilty.

Bucky had to shake himself out of his thoughts as he watched and heard you try to pronounce his name correctly.

“B-b-a-b-a-ck-y” You fumbled over the words as you hugged the Iron Man plushie Tony had given you a few days prior after he saw you holding a Captain America plushie. Ever since you hadn’t let go of the new plushie, much to Bucky’s demise and Tony’s ego.

Your father couldn’t help but to smile at you, it had been a long time since he smiled as much as when you came into his life and he hoped that maybe you could heal the part in himself that he found to be broken.

“not A” he pointed to the letter a in the book you held in front of you “sweetheart, it’s b-u-cky” Bucky pointed at each letter as he said them. He had originally wanted to teach you to call him dad first but as you had no idea what that word meant yet and only ever heard people call him bucky that's what he went with to for now to not make you confused.

“ba-cku?

Bucky chuckled slightly and remade his actions as before. He pointed to each letter as he said them. “b-u-c-k-y, bucky”

“B-u-c-k-y?”

“That's right sweetie, B-u-c-k-y” Steve spoke from beside you as he took the other seat next to you as he brought you a plate with different types of sliced fruit as they were still trying to see what you liked to eat.

You took fruit from the plate and tasted it. Munching on it you smiled slightly up at Bucky. “Bu-cky, Bucky? Bucky”

Both super soldiers let out encouraging smiles as you repeated Bucky’s name as if it was a chant. Bucky’s smile held more pride than the others who had heard you as he ruffled your hair. He smiled more brightly as he watched you stand up and ruffle his own hair mimicking his actions. With that he let out a small laugh and kissed the top of your head as you sat down once more, ready for Bucky to teach you other words.

#Bucky Barnes x child!reader #bucky Barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x teen!reader #x reader #mcu x child!reader #marvel x child!reader #x child!reader #Steve Rogers x child!reader #Bucky Barnes x child reader #tony stark x child reader #marvel x reader #marvel x platonic reader #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

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. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place.

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal.

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #mcu #marvel #captain america #sam wilson #natasha romanov #au #tattoo au

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pagesoflauren · 5 months

Text

Calamitous Love Collection: Delicate Beginning Rush (1/4

ex veteran!Steve Rogers x reader

Premise: Steve Rogers blows into town in search of some estranged family. As he settles into civilian life, he realizes leaving work is hard and perhaps the world will never stop needing him.

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, mentions of abandonment by a romantic partner, complex familial dynamics, sexual content.

Thank you as always to @eightcevanscentral. And thank you to you all, for not forgetting me. I'm happy to write again.

Main Masterlist

Ari blinks mutely at the stranger-who’s-not-actually-a-stranger sitting in his armchair, where he made himself comfortable without permission. With the information that was just revealed to him, he’s a little more possessive of every molecule in the cabin.

His mother had opened the door, then stole everyone’s attention with her shocked gasp and the shrill sound of glass hitting the floor. Ari had rushed in and his wife, asleep on the couch, woke up and surveyed the surroundings.

Soon enough, everyone was baffled by the appearance of a man named Steve Rogers claiming to be Albert Levinson’s half-brother.

As Ari continues to stew over everything he just learned, his wife pipes up, “Give him a moment.”

“I’m going to need several moments,” he adds quickly, his voice dripping with his confusion. “You’re going to waltz in here and tell me that my dad’s father,” Ari begins, using hand gestures to help him keep track of all the people he’s about to mention, “My grandpa Alexander–whose last name is actually Rogers–left my grandmother Andrea Levinson and ran off with some other woman and had you?”

“That’s correct,” Steve says bluntly.

“And that makes you,” Ari points an incredulous finger at him, “My dad’s half-brother, and my half-uncle.”

“Correct again. Except, ‘half-uncle’ is a little odd to say because I’m about twenty years younger than your father. I’m probably only a few years older than you.”

“No,” Ari denies immediately, getting up from his spot next to his wife. “Nope, this is a dream. This is some crazy, twisted reality that I’ve been trapped in–”

“Ari, dear,” Bunny sighs, “This isn’t a dream, I promise. And…that’s kind of how family trees work.”

“And he’s not wrong,” Marcella adds plainly.

All eyes shift to her.

“You knew?!” Ari shouts, earning a stern look from him mother, which he quickly counters with an apology. “But…mom, why didn’t you tell me?” he whines.

The women in the room roll their eyes and Bunny turns to Steve as Marcella begins to explain the matter to her son. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. As you can tell, this news is quite a shock to him.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Steve shrugs.

She mirrors his gesture, then offers him something to drink.

“If it wouldn’t trouble you to get some water, I’d appreciate it.”

“Not a bother at all,” she waves him off before getting up, walking past the other two in the room and drawing Steve’s attention to them.

“...Your father and I just didn’t think it was so important. They lived such separate lives, anyway. And think about it, what does this change, after all? You still have this house, you have your wife, you have me.”

“I just can’t imagine leaving,” he sighs, eyes drifting to his wife in the kitchen, standing on her toes to grab a glass all the way in the back of the cupboard.

He’s told her many times to stop that out of worry she’d overextend the delicate tendons of her ankles. Went as far as building a step stool she doesn’t even use; he huffs a laugh to himself as he watches her move to the fridge and take out the water pitcher. The liquid sloshes with the movement and swaying of the various fruits she had put to make it just a little bit more refreshing.

Strawberries, mint, and watermelon in his water; her hands in his; holes in his shirts with constantly fresh stitches; the prospect of filling frames with pictures of a growing family; she was home to him. How could he ever think about abandoning it?

The idea that his grandfather did something he can’t begin to understand, that’s what sits in his stomach and tangles up his insides.

Steve didn’t do that. He was just the product of it.

His eyes follow his wife as she walks back into the living area, handing him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking a sip before his eyes meet Ari’s.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Ari asks.

“I was going to shack up at the inn after this.”

“No need,” Ari shakes his head. “We have plenty of room here.”

“Are you sure?” Steve chuckles slightly, “I think I broke your brain when I walked in and told my story. Seems like staying over would rock the boat even more.”

The air in the cabin suddenly lightens, tension fading away as everyone laughs.

“On the contrary, what better way to get to know your family than by staying with us?”

Steve shrugs and smiles, “Well, I guess I better get my things then.”

Ari offers his help and the two men begin to bring Steve’s bags into the cabin. There isn’t much, about three pieces of baggage to bring in.

When they shut the door and appear to get settled, Marcella pipes up, “Oh good, you’re done.”

“Mama, what are you doing?” he asks, watching as she settles the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

“I’m ready to go to town to get my nails done.”

“Ma, I told you this morning–”

“Right, you have some silly little project to work on and my lovely daughter-in-law is cooking for the week.”

“I don’t think fixing a leak in the sink is–”

“Yeah, that one,” she waves him off, “Anyway, as I was saying, I wasn’t asking you to bring me. Steve has a car.”

“Ma, he’s a guest–”

She scoffs, “Oh, please, he’s family, and it would give him a chance to explore the town a bit. Doesn’t that sound great, Steve?”

Mute from being put on the spot, Steve takes a moment to process before agreeing to do it.

“See? Everyone’s happy!” Marcella chastises Ari.

She makes her way out the front door and the men hear a snort from the kitchen.

Bunny pauses and looks up from the vegetables she’s chopping, “Welcome to the family, Steve.”

- - -

After dropping Marcella off at the salon, Steve found a spot under a tree to park in.

Stepping out of the car, the main avenue of the town looked familiar and foreign at the same time.

It was a typical American small town busy road: cars parked along the sidewalk, wide streets and walkways, stores directly next door to one another, hustle and bustle. Every American knows it, and it’s likely non-Americans know it too.

But when was the last time Steve saw one for himself?

It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it was.

Before the jet rides to quickly get from place to place. Before the case files and research. Before commlinks and codes. Before sleepless nights planning missions and long days carrying them out. Days would turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years.

He’s given so much of his life and focus into it that he doesn’t remember life where he wasn’t doing it. He knows there was something before it because every adult has memories of growing up, being a child, and going to high school.

In Steve’s brain, those recollections are locked away in a corner of his brain he locked away to be able to do his job.

The things he was afraid of as a kid, the insecurities that held him back as a teenager, the innocence everyone has before becoming an adult; he lost touch with all of it, lost touch with himself.

It had gone too far on the last mission. His friend sent him home with the promise the team would be okay without him.

The voice of a conversing family draws him out of his dazed state, catching a glimpse of two kids skipping while their parents gently caution them.

Sighing, Steve moves onto the sidewalk and begins to walk down the street. When a door swings open, he sees the brief image of his walk: stiff, arms swinging in tight control and calculated steps as if he’s back at boot camp.

Slowing his pace, he thinks about how to appear more casual; he is, after all, a civilian now.

Relax, Rogers, he can hear Natasha say. No, seriously. We’re supposed to be walking through the mall, not running to the drill sergeant’s back and call.

He lets his shoulders deflate, shoves his hands in his pockets, and tries to find a comfortable pattern of steps.

While he can’t be certain, Steve has that nagging feeling that he looks like an idiot.

Pursing his lips, he decides to distract himself by looking at the various window displays along the sidewalk. There’s a certain small town comfort that comes from the bright colors and fun arrangements that are meant to attract customers. Different phrases like “fun in the sun” emulate the summer air, while silly props like turtle-shaped inner tubes evoke a type of nostalgia that most people are lucky to have when thinking of their long breaks from school.

Steve knows in the dark annals of his mind, those memories are there.

Before he can deep dive into retrieving them while staring at a flamingo pool floatie, he’s interrupted by a parent pulling his son out from a nearby store.

“Why can’t I have him now?!”

“If you can do your chores consistently for a month, we’ll talk about it. Puppies aren’t toys. They’re a responsibility, like your chores. And you keep putting those off.”

The conversation fades as Steve draws closer to the door the pair just exited, peering into the window.

A handful of dogs of all ages yip and bark, some playing by themselves while others tumble around and bite each other softly. Their kennels line one wall, while the other wall is filled with two housings; one for a molly cat and a litter of kittens and another empty one, the door slightly ajar.

Intrigued, Steve pushes the door open.

The dogs all perk up at his entrance, some standing and wagging their tails, ears high with attention, while others bark at him.

A woman rushes in from the back, a slightly resigned look on her face.

“C’mon you all,” you sigh, “You know that’s not the right way to greet somebody, especially if you wanna get adopted.”

Standing in front of some of the kennels, you stick your hands through the bars to nudge some chewing toys towards the more excited canines before turning to the other wall to attend to the kittens.

“Sorry, Mocha, let me put this down and your kitties can keep feeding.”

As you pull down a makeshift shade to block the front of the kennel, Steve realizes the missing feline from the other cubby is perched on your shoulder, tail swinging in satisfaction as it maintains perfect balance as you walk around.

“Hi, I’m so sorry,” you greet him, “Some of the puppies are still in training. And Major over there is a rescue; he’s been through it, so he’s still warming up.”

He follows your gesture towards a large German Shepherd standing on his hind legs.

Reaching up, you remove the cat from your shoulder and laugh when it hooks its claws into your shirt.

“Shadow, we have a guest,” you giggle, and Steve feels a lump in his throat. Negotiating the claws out of the fabric, you rest Shadow onto your arm. “This cat’s been here for a while. He’s followed me since he was a kitten, and he’s got this beautiful black coat, so I figured ‘Shadow’ was a great name. Isn’t he lovely?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Oops, leave it to me to introduce the cat before myself,” you joke, tapping your forehead to point out your forgetfulness. You offer your hand as you give him your name. “It’s nice to meet you. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have,” he waves you off, “I just got here today.”

“Well, welcome to Barber. What brings you to town?”

“Some long lost family.”

“Which one?” you ask, interest piqued. Then, your eyes widen bashfully, “Sorry, that was so invasive.”

“No, it’s alright,” Steve smiles, “I, um…do you know the Levinsons?”

“Oh Ari and Marcella! And Ari’s wife, of course. Yes, I love them. Marcella came in once and nearly snuck one of the kittens out in her jacket. Not that she was stealing from me, but she wanted to try to get it past her son. He wasn’t having it; though I think he would benefit from a kitten. He’s so gruff–oh my God, I talked way too much.”

The blond laughs and you think you might swoon. Setting Shadow down to wander around the shelter, you try to keep things professional. “So, what brings you in? Just here for some puppy therapy, looking around?”

“Well, if Ari doesn’t want a kitten in the cabin, I imagine he wouldn’t want a puppy,” Steve begins, looking at the dogs. “But I hear they’re good for…um…”

He pauses and you keep your posture, looking at him attentively as he tries to find his words.

“I’ve heard that adopting an animal could be good for a returning veteran.”

“Oh,” you comment, “Yes! I mean, that’s easy for me to say because I run the shelter; but really it’s easy to recommend a pet to anyone who is considering it. A father and son were just in here and the only thing that stopped me was the fact that the father was saying his son doesn’t tend to his chores. But I think with the right guidance, his son could be a good dog companion.

“In your case, though, I would say it could help you feel more adjusted. You’ll have something to do and a friend who will love you unconditionally. But, seeing that you just got to Barber…”

“It’s probably best to wait before I make a decision,” Steve finishes for you.

“Exactly,” you smile, “We’re on the same page.”

A few beats of silence pass over the two of you before you break it. “Would you like to still look around? You’re welcome to. I’m sure the dogs would be happy to interact with someone other than me.”

Taking you up on your offer, Steve accepts the bowl of treats you hand him and listens attentively as you specify that each puppy only gets one treat. “And don’t fall for the puppy eyes. You laugh now and think I’m joking but these guys are good at what they do.”

Approaching the first kennel, the chubby puppy with round ears perks up and yips, excited for an interaction. A rush of happiness fills Steve’s chest, helping him relax as he wedges two fingers between the bar to give the little guy a couple head scratches. Then, he reaches down into the bowl, holding the treat for the puppy to bite.

The puppy chews and Steve catches a glance at his description: suspected to be a mix of a Bernese Mountain Dog and a Boxer, the puppy is a boy with a lot of energy. He’s only a few months old and was found wandering in the grocery store and begging for scraps at the deli.

“Well, your name makes sense, Salami,” Steve mutters, making eye contact and, sure enough, as you predicted, he’s begging for more treats. “Damn, she wasn’t kidding. I bet those guys at the deli gave you every scrap they could find before bringing you here.”

“Oh they did,” you respond from behind the counter. Looking up from your paperwork, your gaze switches between Steve and Salami. “You should’ve seen him. You think he has a soft tummy now, he was a complete pot belly when he was done over there.”

The two of you share a laugh as Steve tries to conjure the image in his head.

Every puppy has an anecdote to go with it, he finds out as he continues through the shelter. Some are happier than others, and it shows in your face as you tell the stories. Some even make your voice clog with emotion and you have to take a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you sigh, “That’s what, the fifth time? Gosh, I have got to get it together.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” he reassures you, then quickly changes the conversation to focus on the last puppy. “What about Willow? Anything about her?”

“She’s the sweetest little thing. She’s got to be some golden retriever mix, I just can’t put my finger on the other breed. But, anyway, she found by Ari, your…?”

“Nephew.”

“Your nephew–” You start to go with it, until it registers that Ari and Steve appear to be the same age. Your voice catches as the gears turn in your head.

“Long story, I’ll tell you after this one.”

“Got it,” you agree. “Anyway, Ari brought her in. She was hiding under a pile of lumber that he was about to deliver. Apparently she led him on a wild chase around the lumber yard. When he brought her in, he was all sweaty and grumpy.”

“I think he’s always grumpy.”

“Seems like it. I don’t know how his wife and mother deal with it. But, yeah, that’s Willow’s story. I figured since she was found in the lumber yard, I should name her after a type of tree. I also thought about just naming her ‘Timber’ or something but I liked Willow.”

“I like it, too,” Steve says, looking back at the puppy. When his eyes meet hers, he realizes she never stopped looking at him while he was speaking to you.

She gives him a dopey smile, tongue hanging out as she pants in excitement at the sight of him.

“Looks like you two are having a moment,” you remark.

It all falls away at the sound of his phone ringing, causing a cacophony of barks and howls to arise.

You try to calm the dogs down as Steve clumsily finds a surface to put the snack bowl down while answering the phone.

“Hi Steve!” Marcella trills on the other line. “I’m all ready to go!”

“Oh, okay, Marcella, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay see you soon!”

The call ends there and you’re still trying to get the dogs to settle.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think my ringer was on.”

“That’s okay, it happens,” you brush him off. “I’m glad to have met you! Hope to see you around. Or hope you come back for Willow.”

“Yeah, it was great to meet you too.” He lingers for a moment, wanting to say more but no words seem to be right. “Actually, before I go, could I take a picture of Willow?”

“Sure, do you want to hold her?”

His face shows his nerves before he can express them, so you quickly retract your statement and turn to bring her out of her kennel.

Propping her up in your arms, you do your best to get her to look towards Steve’s phone.

“Oh, you can smile, too. You’re in it.”

“Oh, okay!”

Your smile is bright, radiating a warmth that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

When the picture is taken and it’s truly time for him to go, the memory of that grin makes it difficult to leave.

As Steve walks down the avenue, he types a message to Bucky.

Life in Barber is off to an interesting start. Met the sister-in-law, the nephew, and the niece-in-law. But I think my favorite is Willow (picture coming)

After sending the picture of you and the puppy, he sees Bucky immediately start typing, his response brief but effective.

Who’s the girl? 👀

She runs the shelter.

Anyone of interest?

Steve takes a moment to come up with a reply, triggering Bucky’s impatience.

Or maybe not yet.

But she seems like your type, so I think it would be a person of interest.

Rolling his eyes, Steve types a message simple enough to end the conversation there:

Maybe.

------------------

Tags: @crazyunsexycool @blackwidownat2814 @brandycranby

#ficsofpagesoflauren #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert

156 notes · View notes

daddysfangirls-marvel · 1 year

Text

Polyamorous: Material List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes/ Stucky x reader

Smut*

The First kiss

*The first touch*

*Moving In *

*The day they left for war *

Found you

*The Day Stark found out *

*Big Change *

The Train

The Plane

Alone

Unfortunate Sequences of Events

I know her

The Restaurant Part 1

The Restaurant Part 2

*It’s me *

You can keep her

He’s okay with that

Mama loves me

Kissing Captain

Kissing Winter

Healing

*Hurt *

*We’ll Wait *

Memories

Prude

* Whore *

Put in her place

The day Stark Jr. Found out

Now you know

Nursing

*Like a Virgin *

*Morning After *

The Catacombs

Off with her head

Grieving the Insane

*Let me make it up to you *

*Punishment *

Spiderling pt1

Spiderling pt2

Twentieth-century love

The new we can imagine

*Connection *

Please, marry me

Walk me

Stand with me

Final touches

I Do

*Honeymoon*

*A Moment of Paradise *

Pictures from Paradise

The Fever

The bad days

Let’s talk about it

*Practice makes perfect pt1 *

*Practice makes perfect pt2 *

Seed

Unknown Stolen

unfulfilled Duties

Talking Emotion

Next Step

Holy Shit!!

First steps to hope

She’s Awake

Nicknames

The Mother and The Father

The Boy

The Name Game

Talking

Not Ready

No Boy

*Returning lust *

*Seven Days (pt1) *

*Seven Days (pt2) *

*Seven Days (pt3) *

* Seven Days (Final Part) *

Tears of Joy

*Apple Pie Life*

Epilogue

*Bonus Chapter*

Howard Stark's Video

Peggy Carter

*Let's Play a Game *

*8th anniversary*

Forgotten Memories

*Interruptions *

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stuckysdumbbitch · 2 years

Text

a good man

summary: Steve Rogers will make sure your image is impeccable, whatever it takes

Pairings: Dark!40s!Steve Rogers x naive! Barnes! reader

Warnings: 18+ content, noncon, loss of virginity, rough smut, dark themes, slight blood play, degradation, forced marriage, mean! Steve

the bitch is back!

After your brother died, Captain Steve Rogers promised your Ma he would take care of you. After all, your father had died when you were young and your Ma’s health was quickly deteriorating. On a cold winter day, her heart couldn't take it anymore, and she made Steve promise he’ll marry you to a good man and keep you in line. Steve, who had grown fond of Winnifred after Sarah’s death and loved her as a mother, said he would do everything to ensure her death wish. So he took you out to every high class party to celebrate the end of war, presented you to all his high-rank officers and bought you the nicest dresses in town, along with a house of your own.

Your little poor girl heart grew infatuated with the gifts and lavish things, building the courage to ask for more and more over time, but always sweet and grateful. You barely noticed how Steve’s gaze darkened after you turned, mind imagining for too long how you'd look with the lingerie that you had shyly asked for, hiding the satin in your clenched hands before grinning devilishly and running to the dressing room when he agreed. Or how he would shadow over you as any man actually tried to make a move on you, scaring them off at the slightest chance.

He didn't understand why he made his life harder, as he had promised to marry you off. But none of those men deserved you, they were either going to be too rough or too forgiving. God help the terrified look on your face when a man was trying to impress him, talking about the discipline he’d enforce on his future wife. But he also couldn't get you a permissive husband, as he knew the mischief inside of you. The lustful and flirty side that was too naive to men’s evilness.

Steve believed that he needed to find someone like himself, hard but loving. He would spank your ass raw if you misbehaved, but hug you and kiss you afterwards, telling you how much of a good girl you were for enduring your punishment. He found himself dreaming about it much more than he’d like to. And sometimes, when he tossed and turned late at night, he found himself dreaming of how you'd look wriggling beneath him, face flushed and eyes slanted as your mouth parted in a perfect “O” shape. Sometimes, tears ran down your eyes and your breathing was desperate, and you were gently begging for him to get away. He liked the intrusive thoughts more.

So in a particular New Year's Eve party, he was drowned in a monotonous conversation with Peggy’s parents, who kept hinting at their expected marriage proposal. Steve liked Peggy, she was intelligent and beautiful, but she would never be tamed into the daily life of a housewife. But he had to smile and nod, for America’s golden boy couldn't be rude.

Little did he notice how you preened and blushed under Howard Stark’s comments, his mouth dangerously close as he whispered in your ear -which he claimed was because of the loud noise- about how fun it would be to spend New years somewhere else, because he “hated crowds”. Your empathetic soul was quick to feel sorrow for him, and before eleven o’clock, you were heading to your residence in a preppy Brooklyn neighborhood, right next to Steve’s.

When the clock was about to strike 12 Steve began to search for you, in order to give you a big hug where he would be able to hold you tightly against himself. But as the crowd gathered in front of the clock, he realized he couldn't find you, Howard Stark or his car. He cursed all the way, icy blues stuck to the road as his knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel as the parties started to dwindle down.

You were dancing in your living room down to your undergarments with the brightest mind of the century. A whole bottle of some unknown liquid laid on the floor as he ran his hands dangerously close to your rear, sloppy kisses interchanged. You almost peed yourself when the door slammed open, the huge form of your older brother's best friend storming in in a maddened haste. His usually gelled back and controlled hair messy as he peeled back your frame from Howard’s, slapping you to the floor hard enough to sober you up in fear. He then turned to Howard in scary calmness.

“I'll resolve this matter with you afterwards, now leave.” He ordered, and the scientist obeyed, head low from pity or regret, you wouldn't know. You were too scared to actually say anything. The moment the front door closed, Steve was marching towards you. His strong hands pulled you up in a death grip. This wasn't sweet ol’ Stevie that bought you everything your heart wished for and was slightly creepy sometimes.

“Do you have any idea of what you had just done?” He barked and you trembled, tears forming in your eyes, but pride still stuck on your throat like a ball. He looked at you in disbelief, how could his sweet girl act so slutty? “Not even whores invite men into their houses-not to mention that this house isn't even yours- and dance around naked!”

He attempted to pull your bra to emphasize his point, but with his new superstrength, he ended up ‘accidentally’ ripping it. He stopped for a second, as if to think what could happen now. And you laid there, eyes as big as weeping saucers and hands shaking as your lips trembled. In a fast motion, Steve threw you over his shoulder. You heard the clicking of his belt coming undone, the thick brown leather coming to view as you whimpered in fear.

He didn't say a word until you reached the bedroom, where he tossed you face down on the mattress, one hand firmly planting your head on the bed. He somewhat regretted that, as he would have preferred to see your gorgeous face.

“Everyone tomorrow will see you as a floozy, are you proud of that?” He asked, but you were too ashamed to answer. After seconds of silence, you felt the flames of hell lick the skin of your backside and a fast, snapping side. You cried out in pain. “Promised your Ma I’d take care of you, spoiled you too much, and this is how you decide to pay me?”

You whined in pain, but did not dare to answer him. Another hit was whipped, on top of the previous one, and you dug your nails on the sheets.

“WIll have to marry you to the first oblivious man that comes across for you to still have some fucking honor, is that what you wanted?” He grunted, fisting your hair and pulling up your face to see your tears. “How many men have you fucked in this house, you easy whore?”

“None!” You choked out, and even though he knew it was true, he still was getting aroused from the whole ordeal. He felt his pants stiffen around him, and noticed how your panties began sticking to the skin of your wet, needy petals. His hand ran through the red skin, sighing deeply as he allowed himself to emerge in his deepest desires. After all, people had seen him drink all night.

In a swift movement, he pulled down the white satin underwear, exposing your impeccable, virgin cunt. It drooled as Steve admired it. You gulped, unaware of his intentions.

“Stevie? please, I’m sorry, it will never happen again…” you whispered, just loud enough so he could hear. You felt uneasy as your legs quivered and you began to tremble.

“Of course it wont,” He said, awfully calm, fingers running down your slit. “Because imma gets you a good husband that knows how to keep his little harlot in line.”

His fingers were shoved inside you, tearing through your hymen and with that, any hope of finding a decent husband was gone. You weeped, pain and frustration coursing through your body wildly. His ministrations started in a halt, moving his fingers in and out quickly and painfully, stretching you open. He chuckled at your tears, knowing that most of them were not simply because of the ache in your cunt.

“Don't worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” He muttered, observing how his fingers scissored your bloody core. “Gonna treat you real nice baby, give you a big fat wedding ring, I know how you like expensive things.”

Your tearful eyes widened as you understood what he meant. You didn't want to believe it. “S-Stevie?” you croaked up, between violent intrusion. “Please, please stop!”

He stopped, removing his fingers from your cavity and smearing it on your thigh. He took a good look at your folds, puffy and pink in contrast with the specs of dark red painting it. His hands splayed your cheeks open, seeing the inviting canal that pulsated with every breath you took. Something inside him took over as you shivered, from both cold and fear.

In his knees, he neared you, pulling down his zipper as his hand delved to fist his bulging cock. Before anything, he turned you around so you laid flat on your back. You saw how the fabric of his shirt wrapped around his muscles, the wild glare in his eyes as you finally saw his imposing manhood, you sobbed as you realized this isn't your Stevie who would spoil you rotten at your whims. He was an angry supersoldier.

“Please, I’m so sorry Stevie, it won't ever happen again…” You begged one last time, but he only grasped your waist and pulled you closer, lining up his cock with your hole. “No!”

Your little scream did little to stop him, as he pushed his cock inside carefully, he wanted you to feel every ridge, every vein and every bump as he deflowered you. Your soft hands shot up to his immense shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you whined from the intrusion. It burned; he let you taste the fires of the hell he was condemning you to.

He softened when he saw your face, but he had to punish you. He began moving just before you were ready, making you gasp and moan as he delivered merciless hits to your cervix. You had never felt so full, Steve’s digit wrapping around your waist tightly as he observed how your tiny cunt enveloped his cock to perfection, a bulge forming just beneath your stomach from the curve of his manhood.

“My little nymph,” He groaned, pressing you against himself until his hip bones were engraved in the back of your thighs. He wrapped your flailing legs around his narrow waist as he ripped off his shirt one handed, his dark tie hanging in between the valley of your breasts. The stretch became pleasurable, but it was still overall humiliating.

He forced pleasure on you as his face came down to your chest, wrapping his mouth around your erect nipple as he took both of your wrists in one hand, the other gripping your ass hard. You whined as he handled you how he wished, words no longer falling out. Electricity began piling up in your lower belly, your cunt closing around him tighter and tighter as you unconsciously pulled him closer. Your hips reached up to him, needing more, just a bit more.

Steve understood this tell-tale sign, slipping his hand down the tight space between your bodies to find the engorged bead crowing your folds, right on top of where his dick pierced into you. With a couple of flicks of his wrist, which translated onto jolts of rapture rupturing through your body, spasming on him until you drenched him in your sweet cream. His pants were ruined now, but he couldn't care less.

You began feeling sore, but Steve was no longer pleasing you, he was searching for his own release. He forced your head down to see the union, how his cock disappeared into your channel, coming out red and white. Your body was just a stupid little outlet for all of his war frustrations, where he could channel all of those intrusive thoughs and desires. But he couldn't spoil you, not yet.

Just before he exploded, he pulled out from inside, leaving you clenching around nothing. He kneeled closer to you, hand wrapping around your head and pushing his cock down your tight little throat. He let his salty cum flood down your throat, so close you could smell your own essence on his pants. He didn't let go until you choked, pulling back to observe how the corners of your lips were stained with your own virgin blood.

Steve allowed you to lay back, now sobbing. Everything ached, and your mind wondered what was going to happen next. You were terrified of the monster in front of you. He calmly grabbed a small velvet box from his jacket, the one he was going to give Peggy. When you saw this, you began to cry harder, head shaking violently as your sore throat mumbled out “no’s”. He took the sizely diamond, grabbing your wrist hastily to secure the ring on your finger.

“You will marry a good man, want it or not.”

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