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georgiapeach30513 · 9 months

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Mark My Territory

Summary: You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

Pairings: Captain Hydra/Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: dark!explicit

Warnings: dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non con/dub con, kidnapping, throwing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Captain’s dark blue eyes refocus as he removes his death glare of his next victim. His fingers still cling to his neck, but they soften enough for a gurgling sound to emit from his disgusting throat. Lifting his head fully up, the Captain gazes at his surroundings. He felt it. There was a shift.

“You fucking psycho,” the man in his grip screams, but the Captain squeezes as tight as he possibly can, cutting off all air to his lungs, before letting his lifeless body fall down to the pavement.

Now he could focus. Pulling his mask down, he takes a long sniff of air before his mouth turns up into an evil smirk, “Son of a bitch,” someone in the control center screams. “He’s got that crazed look on his face. He senses her.”

Popping his neck, he lifts his mask back up, and stalks down the road, while a team is sent in to retrieve him. He was useless when he could feel you. “Get someone in there now!” Nobody wanted to get in between you and the Captain. There were always a few casualties. A few soldiers were always lost. Only one could ever get his focus away from you.

“He can’t find her. We’re going to have to change her location again,” he takes a slow pause, seeing the Captain’s body cam. “Too late,” he groans.

You stand up slowly out from under the table. Trembling a bit, even if you had a feeling that he would never physically hurt you. His height was vast and he was just as broad. Terrifying and ways, and you weren’t sure what he wanted from you. He always just stood there in front of you. “Won’t you show me what you look like?” He shakes his head no, but extends his hand towards you.

“I don’t know what you want,” he wiggles his fingers, grunting a bit. “Are you wanting me to hold your hand?” One nod, and another grunt. Gulping, you step closer, tickling your fingers against his, and a shift happens to his eyes.

“Do I know you?” His free hand starts to pull down his mask as men surround you. Jerking you away from him, and he releases an animalistic scream, throwing men aside. And when someone grabs you from behind, dragging you his yells become growls.

Lifting up grown men to toss onto the road. His eyes hardly ever leave you. You feel pity for him. He was wanting to protect you. He didn’t want their hands on you. “NO!” He screams as a hand covers your mouth. “MINE!”

That was a turn of events. He felt ownership over you. Why? Why did he feel connected to you? He always found you. Marching over to one man, the Captain’s fingers circle his neck as he turns back to you and your captor. The man raises his gun pointing it at your head, and the tiniest little whimper squeaks out of your throat.

“NO!” He screams, cracking that man’s neck like it was a toothpick. “NO hurt!” Tears drift down your cheeks, wetting the man’s knuckles. There was something about his eyes. “No,” he wasn’t yelling anymore he was pleading. “Mine.”

“Soldier, we can’t take a civilian. You have to go back,” he shakes his head no, a choked mine whispers at the man. “She stays.”

Stays? An option to take you wasn’t on the table. You weren’t going anywhere. “You might as well let him keep his little pet. How many more missions are we going to have where he senses her?” Someone speaks into the ear of your captor. “What’s the worst that could happen? Might work out for our benefit if he knows he gets to go home to that piece of ass.”

“Soldier, at ease,” the soldier shakes his head no, repeating that you were his. “At ease. Get in the truck. She’s coming with us.”

“No!” You wail, but the soldier walks over to you. Lifting you up to throw you on his shoulder. “No! Let me go. I am not yours!”

“Mine!”

Hitting him felt like he was made of bricks. Solid and thick. He makes no sound of distress, just keeps walking. You could practically feel his smirk as he struts to the truck. “Let me go! Put me down!”

“No,” gone is the anger. It was lighthearted. This was sick. This is not the way you wanted to die. Become a play toy for this psycho that was going to do unthinkable forms of torture to you.

——

The Captain grunts as he walks through the doors of the compound. He had one thing on his mind, and it had nothing to do with taking his gear off, and being checked over. A doctor comes over to his side, but he pushes him away.

“You need to be cleaned, Captain.”

“Mmm,” he growls, continuing to his new mission. It's what he deserved.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” an older man steps into the light, smiling at him. “Having that stupid girl here is making things run so smoothly. Let him pound into her tight twat. Maybe eventually he’ll literally split her in half and we won’t have to worry about it again. No more distractions. Go ahead, Captain. Fuck your girl.”

He grunts again. He didn’t fuck you. He owned you. He loved you, and he could think of nothing more than sinking into your warmth. Could already feel your velvety walls cling tight to his aching cock. Getting out of his suit was going to be a bitch. But you were worth it.

He opens the door to your shared cell, and you hurl a shoe at him. He catches it. He always does. Popping his neck, he curls his finger towards you, pointing at his suit, “Go to hell.”

Rolling his eyes, the Captain starts to take his suit off, with much more difficulty than if you would just do it for him. “Just go ahead and kill me, you fucking asshole.”

“No.”

“Say something more than no or mine.”

“No.”

“Fucking brain dead asshole,” he charges towards you, slamming your body up against the wall. Using his thick thigh to spread your own apart, he slips his hands between them, rubbing over your panty clad mound.

“Creep.”

“Mmm,” your body betrayed you every fucking time. If only you could see his face. You never got to see it. Hydra had him muzzled up like the feral dog he was.

“Ahh,” he squeaks, pushing aside your panties. Pushing in two fingers. Your body hates you. Told on you every time with its loud squelching. “Mine.”

“It’s my pussy, you weirdo,” he pumps into you harder, hearing you whimper, and grunts at your pleasure. “It’s mine.”

“Mine!” Slipping in a third finger in makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, and he presses his palm against your bundle of nerves. Driving into you with such force, you couldn’t argue. He was playing unfairly. Your pussy didn’t have a brain. And right now, your own brain couldn’t think.

His arm pinning you to the wall, drifts up higher. Adding pressure to your neck as your body starts to tingle. Pushing you further and further into euphoria before he pulls out of you, and tosses you onto the bed.

“My god! You fucking asshole! Quit doing that shit. If you’re going to make me wet, let me come.”

“Mine,” he growls, pulling off his suit into shreds. That glorious cock bounces up once free, and you have a giant urge to bite it, and also lick off every morsel of precum. He didn’t require your mouth. He just wanted to edge you until you passed out. You swore he finally let your body come once your eyes closed.

“Bet you don’t even know how to make me come,” the Captain chuckles under his mask. Stomping over to the bed. Reaching his hand towards you, his thick fingers grab onto your ankle. Dragging your body down, he flips you over to your knees. Trying to get away, he smacks you hard on the ass. “Prove it then.”

He gives your weeping cunt a few slaps before driving into your warmth. Giving you no time to adjust. It was an assault on your mind more than anything. You hated him. Hated being used as a cocksleeve, but damn if he didn’t stretch you out in the most beautiful fucking way.

Your walls hug tight to him, begging for his touch, and sucking him back into your depths every time he pulls out. Your pussy needed him, and you hated her for it. Hated that you knew he was close to returning because she was already pooling slick into your panties.

As if your crooked panties were keeping you too far away from him, he rips your off own clothes, and never misses a thrust. Grabbing onto your hips, the Captain uses you to fuck him. You hoped you had pushed him enough to let you come because you were right there. You are tired of his games, and just needed relief.

Whimpering out nonsensical words when he pulls out, and flips you on your back, “Told ya, you fucking pussy. Don’t even know how to make a woman come. You piece of shit.”

He rips your legs apart, pinning them on the bed beside your ears and stabs into you. His whole weight on you made you feel even more magical. You hated him, and your body. Hated that he was doing this to you. You were going to die in this cell with someone who didn’t even talk.

“You. Don’t. Know. How. To. Make. A. Woman. Come,” each word was drug out with every push into your wet heat. You feel your juices leak down your ass and onto the bed behind you. It was cruel. You just hope taunting him was enough. “Claim my pussy then.”

“Mine!” He growls, pushing into you hard. “Mine! Mine!” You start to see stars. This was it. He was finally going to let you come. It felt like years of no real satisfaction. Spewing your arousal everywhere, speaking in tongues as you clench your eyes closed, but he keeps going harder.

“Mine! All mine!” That was a new word. He was getting somewhere. “All. Mine. MINE!” You couldn’t see, but you could hear the squeak in his voice as he comes undone. Thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, and you finally feel like you're floating.

His thrusts slow down, and ever so gently, you reach up to pull off his mask. Life flashes before your eyes as you stutter. Trying to find your words. It couldn’t be. He had changed, and still had this weird love for you, “Steve?”

He blinks hard, staring blankly at your face before the softest, “Princess,” whispers off his lips.

“St-St-Steve? Steve? Is that really you?”

“Okay, that’s enough, soldier,” a man walks into your cell, literally pulling Steve out of you, and you sit up crying and shaking your head. “Erase him.”

“Erase? No! No!”

“Discard the girl.”

“No! Mine,” a needle to his neck, makes his eyes close before he’s dragged out of the room.

“I hope you finally enjoyed your orgasm. He won’t be seeing you again,” the doctor backs out of the cell, leaving you screaming and crying. You still felt him on every inch of his body, still had his seed dripping out of you. What was going on.

“You bastards! You fucking bastards! Steve! Steve Rogers, I love you!”

A shadow steps out of the darkness, and raises his finger to his mouth, “Shh,” and then….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss

#mark my territory #captain hydra #captain hydra x reader #captain hydra x fem!reader #captain hydra x y/n #captain hydra x you #captain hydra fic #captain hydra fics #captain hydra fanfiction #captain hydra fanfic #captain hydra smut #dark #noncon/dubcon #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans character

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 🌙✨

hi friends! so, i've had all these hot, little thoughts and prompts floating around my head and i figured that kinktober would be the best time to get them all out!! this is my first time taking this challenge on and i'm incredibly nervous, so please be gentle. 🧡

note: i'll be posting almost every saturday in october (the eighth, fifteenth, twenty-second, and twenty-ninth) and posting a bonus fic on halloween. below the cut, i've included pairings and certain warnings with each day's plot. please check tw's before reading! additionally, this blog is 18+ so minors, dni or you will be blocked.

˖ ࣪𖥔 links 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

kinktober tag | main masterlist | playlist

˖ ࣪𖥔 dates 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

10/8 | 10/15 | 10/22 | 10/29 | 10/31

˖ ࣪𖥔 miscellaneous notes 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

firstly, all tw's are subject to change but will be accurately reflected at the time of publication! secondly, my readers are afab (because that is the perspective i am able to provide) however, i do my best to keep everything else (physical appearance, etc.) as inclusive as possible! i am still new to writing x-reader so constructive criticism is always appreciated! + divider credit

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐡 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

☾ pairing: nanny!reader x daddy!andy barber ☾ tw: daddy kink, ddlg vibes, somnophilia, age gap (reader is early twenties, andy is mid-forties) ☾ summary: working as the barber family's nanny is a piece of cake, but what happens when the dad you've been tip-toeing around all year comes home late one night to find you asleep in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater?

──── ·。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

☾ pairing: college!reader x dbf!steve rogers ☾ tw: age gap (reader is early twenties, steve is mid-forties), infidelity, bratty!reader, smut, oral sex (m-rec), light dom/sub, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, use of pet names, squirting, creampie ☾ summary: when your dad's best friend tags along on a family vacation, there's just something about him that you can't stay away from. the only obstacle? you needed to get that ring off his fucking finger.

──── ·。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞

☾ pairing: reader x ex-boyfriend!ari levinson ☾ tw: slight coercion, smut, fingering, oral sex (f-rec), size kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, kind of dub-con, unprotected sex, creampie ☾ summary: a breakup doesn't always mean forever--especially not if ari has anything to say about it. when you come back to the house to get your things after leaving him, he knows exactly how to make you stay...

──── ·。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥

☾ pairing: innocent!reader x step-brother!ransom drysdale ☾ tw: innocence kink, stepcest, manipulation, pussyjob ☾ summary: coming october twenty-eighth!

──── ·。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

☾ pairing: reader x paramedic!neighbors!stucky ☾ tw: mfm threesome, slight medical kink, bondage ☾ summary: (insp. by johnny-simpfinger and this post), coming october thirtieth!

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 7 days

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(https://www.tumblr.com/mylevisdontfitanymore/736011986052284416?source=share) oh boy, now i can't stop thinking about steve and bucky attending a party and not knowing each other, and one of them being the foolish guy who is plied with too much alcohol and slowly yet steadily gets stuffed throughout the night as people put things in his mouth and he just mindlessly eats everything he's even without question, and the other (your choice on who's who) is a repeat customer. Whereas everyone else comes by once, maybe twice and plays with his belly and feeds him food and tells him he's a good boy, the other guy comes WAY too often, giving him shots and bottles of beer and hand-feeding him so much food and getting to see first hand how big and stuffed and swollen his gut gets throughout the night, and is the one to give him belly rubs when he drunkenly whines at the pain 😳

This post

SWEATING thinking about Steve swinging past Bucky again, affectionately thumping him on the swollen belly and asking, "how's it going, champ? You full, yet?" causing Bucky to curl desperately around his bulging gut with a wordless, strung-out whine. His needy noise is so loud that Steve can't hear the solid, deep sound of his palm smacking him so... he has to do it again. Just a few more times to be sure, listening instead of the drum of his belly, to how his whine changes pitch, higher and hotter, as he's thumped like Steve's at the store testing the ripeness of the melons. He can't squirm to get away, though, he's long past that, so he just has to sit there, shivering and complaining with his incoherent sounds.

Bucky's just so sensitive! He has to whine that loud! It hurts! His whole belly throbs, feeling like it's on fire, so stretched that his skin is taut, pink, and shiny. He can't fit anything more inside him. Fuck, he can't think about anything more than his stomach. He's so stuffed and so fucking drunk that he doesn't even remember Steve. He peers at him through his eyelashes without recollection. Sloppy drunk. He can't place his face, but he's real handsome.

He doesn't remember anything that Steve's done to him. Again and again.

He doesn't know what Steve's come by time after time whereas everyone else has just had one go around. Steve's shoved so many snacks into his lazy-open lips. More than anyone else has by far. He doesn't know that it's been Steve constantly taking empty red solo cups from his weak fingers and replacing them with cups so full that they're almost spilling, sticky and wet down his wrist onto the poor sofa he's suffocating with his weight. He doesn't know and he doesn't care. Bucky just thinks that Steve is checking up on him, being a little rough. It's too bad Bucky's lips are too loose from drinking to say anything. He just whines more. Steve's smacks and gropes are nothing he can't handle... for now.

Steve gives himself an invitation, "that so?" he asks after another glutted whine from Bucky, tracing the thick curve of his ball belly. Bucky groans this time, panting. "Mm-hm, yeah, you're good, just look at you," he murmurs.

Bucky thinks this guy is talking more to himself than to Bucky. Somehow he doesn't mind. His belly pulses and hurts but it's better when Steve's touching him, when -

"Ohhhh," Bucky whimpers, dirty, when suddenly Steve finds his weak spot, his fingers hot and warm and thick as they trace the rim of his belly button, not dipping in. Not yet. Bucky can't believe how sensitive he feels right there. He can't breathe. It's the weight of all the food and drink inside him, it's the anticipation, it's the pain, it's - "guhhh!" He moans as Steve pushes the tip of his pointer finger into his tightly stretched, shallow belly button.

He's touching him like he's fingering him.

Oh.

It feels obscene and good and Bucky is pretty sure blindingly suddenly that if he doesn't come right the fuck now from having his taut, heavy belly fondled and his belly button fingered while he reclines, totally slouched into the couch, limp, he'll just explode instead. There's so much pressure. He's so tight. And Steve's touching him like that, fingering his belly button with one hand and using the other to scratch his strained skin so lightly, tickling, pushing his skin-tight shirt up to the sweaty fold under his pecs and sweatier armpits and Bucky is gonna come. He's, he's so big.

How did he get so big? Has everyone been feeding him? Has everyone been taking turns to stuff him like he's a centerpiece, gluttonous and entertaining? Is everyone watching Steve touch him? Does everyone know he's this much of a glutton that he's gonna bust a nut from nearly bursting!?

Oh, God!

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #bloating #alcohol consumption #dubcon #bucky barnes #steve rogers #chubby bucky #stucky #intox kink

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fandomfluffandfuck · 4 days

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Hallooooooo I'm just here again to tell you how much I love your writing and the way you portray Bucky as one whiny bitch has got me gripping my sheets NGHGGGGG Absolutely fucking love him in Here Kitty Kitty!!!!!

But I've been suddenly hit by a massive Subby!Steve beam and he's an even bigger whiny bitch than Bucky soooo

I present to you- Haunted Steve Rogers :>

Here me out!!! I read a post about ghost fucking and I can't stop thinking about Fresh faced Steve in the twenty first century with Ghost!Bucky Barnes who died in the early 2000s. They never met as children and Steve is mortified to find himself being haunted by a particularly perverted and thirsty AF ghost

Just imagine Steve out in Public, maybe in a mall or inside a packed train and he's just minding his own business until he feels cold wispy hands start groping him. Shivers breaks out of his skin at the cold touch and his complaints dies a quiet death when said cold touches slip down his nether regions.

Just Steve Rogers trying to keep quiet while Bucky molests him, squeezing and stroking his cock while he shakes with pleasure, barely standing and absolutely sweating under his clothing. He's pleading quietly, curling into himself and straining at the effort to not make a noise because Buck! We're in public! Not here please-

Just Steve Rogers trying to listen to a conversation happening in front of him while there's fingers stuck up his ass, cold and opening him roughly. The way his voice would hitch and a gasp leaves him once in while and him shakily telling the person in front of him that he's alright and that he's totally listening as if his prostate isn't being abused.

Just Steve Rogers in a meeting, continuously shifting in his seat. To other people, he's too pent up to sit still properly. The truth? He's got ghost! Bucky's dick buried in his ass, grinding into him and filling him up to the point he thinks he might choke on it. Steve can't beg, can't moan, can't even move because how the fuck is he gonna explain that he's being fucked by a ghostly being in the middle of a meeting?

The risk of being caught riles him up as much as Ghost!Bucky whispering filthy things in his ears like yeah you like that? Look at you, filthy as fuck and taking this dick up your tight ass- You're that desperate Stevie? That you'll have a ghost fucking you everywhere and anytime you want? Come on, open your eyes and look at all of these people in front of you, not knowing that Captain America's gagging for some ghost dick to screw him 24/7! How would they react knowing you're getting filled right now huh, practically a slut for it-

Imagine the mess on Steve's side, how he can go so many times even after coming!!! Just Bucky wringing one orgasm after another while he desperately fights for composure, barely standing and not making a sound, boxers absolutely drenched with his own release-

Or how easy just Bucky slips into him (magical ghost powers Ajdheje), accosting him and groping him wherever whenever he likes, leaching off Steve's warmth and life!! ACKKKKKK AIDHSIRJEORJFJ HEEHEHEHEHEH

-🫠🫠

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty"

I'm glad you enjoyed whiny Bucky, lmao. He's a favorite for suuure 😏

And as for the idea of ghost!Bucky with freshly thawed Steve, I--

Holy fuck, I have seen some ghost-fucker content here and there (much with public stuff which is fun 🥴) but I haven't ever considered that with stucky and... I'm obsessed (possessed perhaps, lmao).

I'm especially obsessed with thrill seeker ghost!Bucky and stuttering, subby Steve, though. Goddamn.

I am enthralled with what you wrote! I have to say, though, my immediate thought--my immediate mental image, really--with this pairing was Steve with his leanly muscular, fawn-clumsy legs spread wide on his bed in the middle of the night, hips up, back arched, seemingly all alone and exposed. Moonbeams slip through his curtains into the room, lighting him up, dragging across his flushed, pale skin like a spotlight. His bare, shaven face is pressed hard into his white sheets--contrasting gorgeously, blank sheets, and the blood-hot flush painted with so much pigment, thick and wet, across his face. He's blushing from high on his cheeks all the way up to the hot shells of his ears. And for the most part, other than his quivering, open mouth and his heaving chest--face down, ass up--he's perfectly still. Debauched and statuesque in the middle of the night.

He should be chilled with the night air caressing his skin, but he isn't. He's burning up. The phantom hands on his skin are freezing but he's alive with flames, they're licking and scorching his skin, leaving him gasping, his hands scrunching the sheets into a wrinkled mess, fisting the fabric right by his head, both trying to hide the dirty ecstasy written over his pretty face in vain as Bucky's fucks him and just trying to have something, anything, to hold onto as his world is torn apart from overwhelming, crashing waves of pleasure.

Too much. Too good.

He can't see Bucky, but, oh, god, can he feel him.

Touching him. Fucking him. Groping him. Making handprints and bruises and bite marks appear on his warm, pink skin out of thin air.

He can hear him, too, whispering to him, fuck, he can almost feel it on the back of his neck, but he can't really. Of course not. Bucky isn't breathing down on him. He can't. He's just playing with him, drawing his pleasure out, pushing his nerves to the brink--Steve doesn't know what's hot and what's cold is anymore, Steve doesn't know what's real and what isn't, Steve doesn't know anything but pleasure like he's never felt before, given to him in the middle of the night when he's alone save for Bucky who makes him feel more alive than anyone else with a beating heart in their solid chest could.

(If anyone else were to walk in, though, god, it'd be a show. Steve writhing on his sheets without any influence. Completely stripped bare, exposed, and untouched..? Except, anyone can see the fingertip indents in his thighs as Bucky gropes him, anyone can see the wet, hot, open gape of his hole as Bucky fucks him, taking him from behind, anyone can see the tremble in his muscles as he crumbles under the influence of the unseen, anyone can see sweat glistening on his skin, anyone can see his fever, pink all over, anyone can see how much he loves it, his face twisted up in pleasure, lips hanging open, taking it like a good little slut. So desperate for dick he'll get it anywhere, anytime. He can't live without dick.)

Anyway--

I fucking love your idea. I love the thought of public ghost play, too!! I was just immediately on the bewitching hour, haunting ghost fucking vibe, lol.

I can just imagine Bucky always messing with Steve at the worst times, and when Steve tries to talk sense into Bucky behind closed doors, well, he just ends up a pile of mush as Bucky continues so there's not really any talking. What? They're in private now, isn't this what Steve wants? Isn't this what he was asking for?

Jesus.

They're trouble. They're both so hungry for touch, and they find it so easily in each other that no one else understands. It's kinky as fuck and it's sweet as fuck. I love it!!

Thank you for this! 😘

#asks #🫠🫠 anon #anon provided writing #semi-public sex #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #fic #ghost fucker #tw death #tw slight dubcon #tw dubious consent #ghost bucky #big sub steve

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inevitablysomber-dark · 1 year

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Can I request a dark Steve x Reader, total smut? He's her coworker and is always kind of bullying her for her appearance and making her feel bad about her mistakes, and the whole office is in on it, even her boss. She has to work late and ends up crying at her desk, and he takes the opportunity to jump her bones.

Sheeps Clothing

I would like to apologize for this story being so long, I saw it last night and started working on it this morning, on my phone. Up until I got home, and when I looked at the file on my computer, it was like 1.8k words.

Warning: Non/Dubious Consent?, workplace harassment, power dynamic, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI

Summary: You try to get away from Steve, but you don't even have a chance.

"Jesus!" Someone exclaimed

You look up to see who said it.

"What the hell are you wearing?" It was Steve, and he was speaking to you

You look down at your outfit, a long flowy dress with puffy sleeves covered in a floral pattern.

When you look back up at him, you don't have a chance to say anything before your desk mate, Hailey responds.

"Hush, you know she lacks fashion sense."

"But this is atrocious.” he grabs the loose bow at your neck and flicks it."

You're surprised by his proximity and jump, causing your chair to push backward as Steve steps back, letting you fall to the ground on your side of the cubicle.

"Geez," he says

When you look up, he's standing over you, a nefarious smirk splayed on his lips, amused by your embarrassment.

It takes a little longer to get up than you hoped, especially since Steve insisted on staying in your way.

Once you've managed to get on your two feet, you dust yourself off and make your way to the bathroom, doing your best to slide past without touching him.

When you finally get there, you can feel your emotions surfacing, and you take a few breaths to calm yourself.

There was a data analyst position; Mindy, your supervisor, said that you were a shoo-in, so you applied with her blessing and reference. Since it would be in the same building, the commute would be the same, and the best part is you’d finally get away from Steve and all his little lackeys.

You were expecting to hear from them today, so you had no plans to let Steve bother you with his shenanigans. You compose yourself before returning to your desk, ensuring your demon has left your station.

***

Throughout the day, you’re checking on your emails, dodging Steve, and somehow managing to complete your tasks. Around 2:00 pm, you finally get a message from human resources with the updates for your job application.

Good Afternoon Y/N,

Thank you for applying for our job opening. Unfortunately, we cannot continue your process due to an incomplete resume. We have decided to pursue other candidates that more closely meet our needs.

Thank you for your consideration, and we wish you success in your career pursuit.

You were confused. An incomplete resume?

You go back to your file to review said application. As far as you can tell, everything has been completed, so you decide to go to HR in person to ask what is going on.

“It looks like your reference letter was never sent in,” the lady behind the desk said

“What?” you asked

“Yeah, you completed everything on your end. Your supervisor or manager just didn’t send in their reference,” she says

“ Well, what if I get her to send it in today?” you ask, swallowing a croak.

“Unfortunately, all necessary positions are filled. However, if you are still interested later on, keep track of position statuses on the site for employees.”

“Thank you,” you say as you leave.

What else could you say? Mindy had sworn to you that she would get your reference in as soon as possible, and that was two months ago when you first applied for the position.

You head to your floor, intending to speak with her as soon as you get there. She knew the reference was an essential part of the process. It was a rule that only applied to employees in the same company looking to go to a different department.

It was an opportunity you’d missed not because of your negligence but someone else’s, not just anyone, but someone in a position of power.

You were heartbroken.

When you finally got to her office, she was on the phone, but you waited because you needed to know why she didn’t send in something so important.

When she finally got off, you pounced.

“Hey Mindy, I just received a rejection for the Data Analyst position,” you stated

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she says. “Welp, better luck next time.”

“Well, they said they didn’t get my reference….” You paused to give a pointed stare “from you.”

“Well, I can’t just put my name on anything. You know, I do have a reputation to keep up.”

“ I’m one of your best employees.” You state, “I keep up with all information going in and out of this department, I make all the data more digestible, I keep up with everyone's schedules to optimize work efficiency” your voice began quivering as you got louder and more

confident

You give so much to this department just for Mindy to stab you in the back and say that you weren’t worth it?

“Well, since you do so much for this department,” she stands, walking toward you with several manilla folders in hand, “Why don’t you digitize these files for me? And maybe next time, I’ll think about giving you a reference.” she hands you the folders and walks back to her desk.

When she notices you still haven’t left, she waves her hand at you.

“Goodbye.”

You walk away defeated.

What are you going to do?

***

It's the end of the day, and you’re working like a madman trying to digitize the files Mindy gave you.

You thought you had time to complete them. Unfortunately, Mindy conveniently left out that some of them needed to be in the system before a specific deadline.

So here you were, 8 pm, still trying to put all the information together and organize them accordingly, and you still had to be at work early the next day.

When you paused to read the time, you felt a stiffness in your throat, and your eyes began to water so much you could no longer see what was on your computer screen.

The despair became so overwhelming that you could no longer concentrate. You broke down at your desk, thanking the heavens that no one was there to see you be pathetic.

You cried harder.

You didn’t like your coworkers, they were always so mean and dismissive towards you, and Steve only worsened the situation. You just wanted to start over somewhere else, with a different group of people that didn’t know you.

“Why are you crying?” you quickly look up, and there he stands, a frown on his face as if your crying had bothered him.

You quickly wiped your tears, as best as you could, before getting up and attempting to run to the bathroom. However, Steve grabs your arm before you can get two steps out of your cubicle.

“I’m talking to you,” he says, his voice firm and unwavering.

You yank your arm from his grasp and find your way to the lady's room.

The tears just won’t stop. They were relentless as you grabbed some paper towels and started running water.

A loud thump startles you as you try to clear away the day's heartache. Of course, Steve is standing at the doorway, staring you down as if you’d just offended him.

“What do you want?” you ask, not wanting to deal with whatever offensive joke he has ready to throw your way.

He doesn’t say anything initially, as if he were thinking it through. But with a raise of his eyebrows, he asks:

“What’s wrong?”

“Like you care,” you respond.

He walks up to you and slowly backs you into the corner of the sink, his usually cheerful presence becoming intimidating.

“Try me,” he says

His challenge confounded you. Thinking he wouldn’t care, in your vulnerable state, you share what happened, minus the part about wanting to get away from him. He does something unexpected and pulls you into a hug.

You’re shocked by the sentiment at first, but you find yourself cautiously relaxing in his arms. He pulls away and carefully tilts your head back to wipe the tears from your eyes and push your hair from your face.

“That’s nothing to cry over, and you’ll have plenty of opportunities to move around different departments,” he says

It was oddly comforting, but something still felt off.

It wasn’t till he pressed his lips against yours that you understood why. You tried to shove him off you, but he only seemed more determined as his tongue invaded your mouth.

You bit his tongue and slapped him, desperately trying to gain some

control of the situation.

His face was perplexed.

“Well, I didn’t expect that,” he says “looks like the kitty has some claws,”

He turned your body so that your back was facing him, and you felt his erection pushing up against your ass.

“Do you feel that?” he asks. “That’s all you. It’s always been you,” he whispers the last part before nipping at the junction of your neck.

He pulls your dress up, and you try to pull him off, but he grabs your neck and squeezes.

“How about we behave like a good girl and put your hands on the sink?” he says, “Or I can choke you till you pass out and do as I please then.”

You do as he says

“Good girl”

He pulls your panties down to your hips and moves his hand across your bottom, a deep groan filling his throat, satisfaction purring in his chest.

You hear a zip and shuffling before you feel his cock pushing against the cleft of your ass.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, a sob escaping from your chest.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t plan on going in tonight,” he pushes his member between the apex of your thighs so that it is snug between your lower lips. He groans again, moving his hands to your waist. You shivered at the contact his tip made with your love button, unsure of what his plan was.

He grips your waist, moving his cock back and forth between your lips, every movement dragging against your clit, causing a slickness to form and coat his manhood. When there was enough lubrication, he began picking up speed, moving faster, digging his nails into your hips.

You’re driven over the edge when he pulls you closer to his chest, cupping your breasts in his hands. As your body slackens, his pace quickens, trying to meet his end.

No more snide remarks or comforting words, just grunts and whimpers between you, racing to the finish line of ecstasy.

When he finally does, he finishes over the crotch of your panties and pussy lips. He takes a moment to catch his breath, and when he pulls out, he lifts your cum covered panties over your ass.

“Just a taste of what’s to come,” he says, gently caressing your crotch. He walks away, fixing his pants, and a chuckle leaves him as he exits the bathroom.

What just happened?

#Dark! Steve Rogers #Dark! Steve x Reader #Dark! steve rogers x reader #dubious consent #dubcon #fic #dark fics #request #stever rogers x reader

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hanitrash · 1 year

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Cap Bottom Bingo Masterpost!

Here are all the fics I posted for the @cabottombingo!

I can't believe how many I actually got done! I'd hoped to make a few more full lines, but I was sick in December and January and didn't get as much writing done as I'd hoped.

A3 - "til the end of the line" Soldat i Volkodav (The Fist and The Fang) (steve/bucky, 5k)

Summary:

While on a mission in Canada, the Asset suddenly finds himself free. He follows his partner, the giant wolfhound, because he doesn’t know what else to do. The two end up in the United States, and as his memories begin to return, his need for vengeance grows. Together, they take out hidden HYDRA bases and safehouses across North America. What they find in one base, however, will change everything Bucky ever thought he knew about his time in captivity.

A4 - "Starvation" Some Like It Hot (steve whump, 3k)

Summary:

Steve has been captured by HYDRA. The STRIKE team is having a fun time trying to break him.

Notes:

this is just trash, plain and simple. HTP, hurt no comfort, Steve whump.

A5 - "teleportation" Drastic Measures (steve/thor, 4k)

Summary:

Steve is a barren Omega in a world where his only purpose in life is to create more. In a last-ditch effort to heal himself where science has failed him, he summons the God of Fertility. What he gets, though, is much more than he ever could have hoped for.

B2 - "AU: Bakery" Dashing Through the Snow (steve/bucky, 7k)

Summary:

Steve hates Bucky. Bucky hates him, too, so that’s fine. But when they’re forced to work together and co-teach a class, that anger begins to fade as they slowly learn more about each other. A work trip gone wrong, though, forces them to become much closer than either one ever expected…(aka, the coffee shop college au enemies to lovers snowed in one bed a/b/o that Marv asked for…)

B3 - adopted prompt "truth serum" Careful What You Say (steve/bucky, moodboard + 700 words)

Summary:

Steve is captured and given a truth serum…but his captors get more than they bargained for with the results.

B4 - "Beta Steve" Leg Day (steve/bucky, moodboard + 300 words)

Summary:

Bucky posts some pictures online, creating quite a fuss

B5 - "Much needed hug" Mine (steve/bucky, 5.9k, co-write with @neonbat666)

Summary:

Steve is captured by Hydra while on a mission. Naturally, that doesn't sit very well with Bucky, and he makes every person involved pay dearly for hurting his Steve. Once Steve is safe at home and on the road to recovery, Bucky takes measures to ensure anyone else will think twice about touching what belongs to Bucky.

notes: htp, branding

C3 - free space Smooth Talker (steve/bucky, 7.7k)

Summary:

When Steve decided to try waxing instead of shaving to avoid catching his body hair in the Cap suit, things don't go quite the way he expected. Between misunderstanding the listing on the website and thirsting over the man doing the procedure, he's not sure he'll survive the appointment.

C5 - picture prompt, person restrained My Heart Has Teeth (steve/bucky, 4.7k, with art by @mxaether)

Summary:

During a mission gone wrong, Bucky gets captured. Whoever has him proves particularly hard to track down, and while Steve does his best to ignore how much he’s spiraling, Bucky tries to keep a thread of hope—and his sanity—alive.

Notes: Vampire Bucky

D2 - "Back Alley Fight" I Love Watching You (With Other Men) (chapter one) (steve/bucky, 6.6k total)

Summary:

During the heat wave of 1936, Bucky discovers a secret that Steve has been keeping from him.

He also discovers a few things about himself in the process.

In the future, they find new ways to recreate the past.

D3 - "Saliva" You Make This All Go Away (chapter two)

Summary:

Six months after the helicarrier fight, strange security breaches at the Smithsonian have Steve, Natasha, and Sam running stakeouts, hoping to catch the person responsible—the person they believe to be one very elusive Bucky Barnes.

In what is probably his most bizarre undercover op ever, Steve finally makes contact with the man he thought he’d lost forever.

What he’s not prepared for is what happens after, when Bucky appears in Steve’s apartment in the middle of the night.

D4 - "Creature: Has Tentacles" Into this night I wander (It's morning that I dread) (steve/bucky, steve/johann schmidt, 784 words)

Summary:

Steve gets captured by HYDRA and learns more about Johann Schmidt than he ever wanted to know

notes: htp, oviposition, hurt no comfort

D5 - "skinnydipping" Resurfacing (steve/bucky, moodboard + 1.8k)

Summary:

While Steve is visiting Bucky in Wakanda, Bucky takes Steve to his favorite swimming spot for a heart to heart conversation.

E1 - adopted prompt: "Tied to a Table" I Love Watching You (With Other Men) (chapter three) (steve/bucky, 6.6k total)

Summary:

During the heat wave of 1936, Bucky discovers a secret that Steve has been keeping from him.

He also discovers a few things about himself in the process.

In the future, they find new ways to recreate the past.

E5 - "Sexting" Nineteen Hours (and thirteen hundred miles) (steve/bucky, explicit moodboard + 614 words)

Summary:

Bucky and Nat are on their way home from a mission that has taken far too long for Steve's liking. He sends Bucky some incentive to move a little faster ;)

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transparentcampingnctdragon · 12 days

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Does anyone know this fic? I read it once but I can't find it anymore, basically reader was on some sort of business trip for Stark Industries and Steve tagged along and at some point drugs her tea and fucks her in the back of the bus?

#dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dubcon

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buckets-and-trees · 6 months

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Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows Title: Let All Light Go Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

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