Yeah!

yeah!

english isnt my first language btw so when u read my posts in ur head I want u to mispronounce at least one word in it and add a really heavy accent

Mission Control 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

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

When you come too, the pain is dull. Yet, the pulsing in your foot and leg is near excruciating. You whimper and clutch the blankets. The smell of your sweat clings to you and the bed.

The bed shifts subtly and you look down to the end. He sits with his back to you. He raises his head and turns it as he hears you. He brings his hands up to rub his eyes then rises. He struts up to peer down at you.

You groan as your head lolls to the side. You don’t have the strength left to do anything but languish in the agony. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. You just want to keep sleeping.

His weight creaks in the floor and his steps scuff around the room. He returns and looms over you as you flatten yourself to the mattress. He pokes your shoulder and grunts. You open your eyes as he holds up the notebook.

‘You need?’

You would be annoyed if you weren’t in so much pain. What you need is for him to take you home and leave you alone. That’s not going to happen. As it is, you’re certain you’ll be dead of infection soon enough.

He taps the page impatiently.

You sigh and let out a shaky breath. “Hurts...” you murmur. “Something to... make it less.”

His eyes search you and his blond lashes flutter. He turns and grabs a bottle from the side of the bed. He shows you the label. You squint at the small letters.

“That’s an antibiotic,” you mutter. “Still...” you suck in air sharply, “pain.”

He tilts the bottle to examine then puts it back. He shakes the notebook at you again. You sniff and cross your arms over the top of the blanket. You can’t really ignore him or tell him to go away. You could die without him and you hate that you have to live with him, but you’re scared.

“Anything.” You say. “Just... something to do. There’s nothing here.”

He makes another noise. Almost like a hum. You bring your hands up and rub your temples.

“Why don’t you talk?” You hiss.

He dips his chin down and turns the notebook around. He slides out the pen and scratches onto the paper. He shows you.

‘No.’

“No? You won’t, or you can’t?” You huff.

His brow furrow, he holds up two fingers.

“You can’t,” you say.

He nods.

You don’t know if that makes it better. You thought it was a game. That he wanted to terrify you with his silence. He could be lying but what’s the point in that?

He flips the notebook again. He writes slowly. You read his scrawl; ‘food’.

You look at the ceiling and swallow, “yeah, I should eat.”

He’s already moving as finish your first syllable. He puts the notebook down and marches out. You stare after him, slightly agitated and just as much perplexed. He set the trap, he can’t be surprised that it went off.

You put your arms straight and as you try to sit up, the tug in the muscles of your leg throttles you. You have to smother a scream as you stop yourself. You press your hands to the bed and force your leg limp. You drag yourself up to sit with your upper body alone.

Your tears leak out and you mop them away. You look down at the white nightgown, much like the one you wore the first night there. You reach behind you and move the pillow then lean back. Your foot is on fire.

You can hear him through the open door. You look over at the notebook and reach for it. You drag it off the night stand and examine his jagged writing. You flip the page back. It’s a list of all the things he brought back before. It’s crooked and all over the page.

You shuffle back through the pages and stop at the cross hatching of ink. Your likeness stares back at you. It’s you on the bus, watching through the window, looking almost peaceful. You frown. There’s a word sliced through the scene; ALONE.

You don’t understand it but you’re starting to wonder if he does. There’s something not connected in him. He’s fractured. You should feel bad for him but you can’t. Not after all the pain he’s caused you.

You close the notebook and drop it back on the night table. You slump and your vision hazes. You gaze endlessly at the wall.

He returns, his shadow breaking through the blur. He has a plate in hand. He stops beside the bed and offers it. You take it and without thinking, you thank him. You could cringe. Thank you... for what?

The sandwich is in one piece, meat and cheese juts out from beneath the crusts, and the bread isn’t aligned. You guess it’s the effort that counts. You rest the plate on your lap and brace yourself to sit up higher. He’s quick to bend over you and help pull you upright.

You groan and let out a whine. He retracts and stands over you, watching. You try to ignore his ominous presence and focus on the food. You’re hungry even if it doesn’t look the most appetizing.

You take the sandwich and bite into the crust. The rye is rich and the filling isn’t too bad. He even added mayo. A small thing but you can’t help but be relieved it isn’t just dry bread and meat. You chew and look up at him. You hover your hands over the plate.

“What about you?” You ask.

His eyes round and he blinks. He looks down at his chest then lifts his chin again. He doesn’t offer any response.

“Right,” you nod and take another bite.

His fingers twiddle at his side and he moves his weight back and forth on his feet. You eat in silence, hunched over the plate. When you finish, he scoops up the plate. Before you can react, he’s stomping out.

Jesus. He’s so damn abrupt. He returns. He had a glass of water. You accept it and drink deeply. The coolness is a relief.

He grabs the notebook and opens it. He angles the tip of the pen then writes again. He shows you as you sip from the glass.

‘Not for you.’

You shake your head, “not... the food?” You asked confused.

His mouth slants and he turns the book up. He puts the pen to the paper but doesn’t move it. Not right away. He finally scratches into the paper then turns it back to you. He’s drawn the spike. Your foot thrums at the memory of flailing on the cold ground.

“The trap isn’t for me,” you say. His eyes cling to yours. “But you didn’t tell me.”

His gaze drops and his cheeks tauten. He scribbles another word. ‘Stay’.

You puff out and nod. “I’m supposed to stay. Got it. My fault.”

He clucks and frowns. He points to himself. He hits his chest hard then wags his finger at you. He thumps his chest again. You stare and he stretches his hand wide, staring at it. You gasp as he smacks himself hard across the face. He brings up his other hand and lays another strike across his other cheek. He starts to beat himself frantically.

“Stop! Stop!” You squeal, horrified. He doesn’t seem to hear you. You don’t know what to do. You grip the glass and splash what’s left of the water onto him and holler again, “stop!”

He stills and drops his arms. He looks at you, his cheeks red and scratches, a cut around his eye socket. You shudder up at him.

“I can’t do anything. Not like this,” you gesture to your foot. “So I need you... to do it which means you can’t beat yourself up.”

You sigh and suck your teeth. It’s exactly what he wants. You are stuck with him. You need him.

Someone New 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Thanks as usual for reading.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Things don’t become comfortable, but familiar. You get into a routine, one which smears the days and nights into the other. The landscape helps with that. The sun is fleeting, even in July. The days are longer but it’s not anywhere as stifling or humid as New York. Like everything else, it’s different.

The man at the fish place, Frederik, knows your name. His wife, Inga too. When you walk in the door, they put your order to fry before you even get to the counter. They’re friendly and warm. It’s nice to have some smiling faces when you can hardly muster the same.

They like to ask you about New York; they’re finally planning a big trip to America after twenty-five years together. They remind you of Marigold and her bakery. You long for one of her eclairs and her chatty demeanour. Just another thing to miss.

As you sit down at a table near the window to eat in, your phone goes off. You answer as you read Sam’s name across the screen. He’s the only one you’ve talked to in the last month. Nearly two now. August is close.

“Yo, yo, girly pop,” he sings from the other end.

“Girly pop? Sam,” you chide as you hover a thick cut fry before your mouth.

“Chicky poo, nope. Girly pop, nope. I’ll get there,” he teases, “finally got a hold of you.”

“Uh, yeah, the site is far. No signal,” you shrug and take a bite.

“I know, I'm just needy,” he kids. “So, you hitting the spa? Summer’s going fast.”

“Not yet,” you swallow. “Sam, there’s a lot of work here and it’s just me. The only help I get is from a local student volunteer and they do three hours a week.”

“Oof, why does your work sound so boring?” He groans

“Hey!”

“Well, I mean, digging up dirt all day, tell me you’re not going mad. You making friends? No one to cool, I hope. I’m still your number one guy.”

“Not really. It’s tough. Long hours. I don’t know,” you stare out the window as you toy with the bamboo fork.

“If you were going to hide all day in a hovel, you could’ve stayed in New York,” he sighs.

“Sam, I’m trying. Really. It’s... It’s going to take some time.”

“Right,” he agrees grimly. “Time. A year is not that long.”

You hum and lean back in the chair. You’re not as hungry as you were. You close up the container and stand.

“I know, alright?” You sniff as you tidy the table and grab your food, “but this isn’t a vacation.”

“It’s also not a missionary trip,” he retorts. “I’m not tryna be a dick here, I’m helping. You need this.”

You push out into the street and cluck. Silence. You don’t know what to say. He’s right and just like ever day, the conversation is the same. Over and over. It’s going to drive you crazy.

“More sunlight this time of year, good for work--”

“No more work talk,” he interjects, “if you don’t got anything fun going on, I'll just have to make you jealous. Some good old fashioned FOMO. Hm, me and Bucky went to Jersey.”

“Jersey? Why?” You take the bait, happy for the distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I told him there was a vintage bike for sale there.”

“You told him that but...”

“There wasn’t. I just wanted to see him interact with the locals. The old ladies love him but the men... well, I think he might have a warrant out now.”

“No, Sam, what the hell?” You exclaim as you stroll along. “Are you trying to get him killed?”

“Hey, I got his back. Just like I got yours. It was just a prank.”

“Wait, Sam, where exactly did you take him in Jersey?”

“Some cribbage club, I don’t know. I saw a page for it online. Thought he’d fit in--”

“They were old?”

“They match his energy,” he snorts.

You can’t help but laugh. It feels good. Just that little bit of home. Your amusement is dampened as your heart sinks. You really were so stupid. You didn’t see what you had all around you; Bucky, Sam, more than just Steve. Now it’s all behind you and going back won’t be the same as before.

💟

There’s tension in the air. It’s going to rain. You suspect your day will be cut short by the gathering clouds but your persist. No use in running. Again.

The last time you left in fear of a storm, it waited until the next day. So you sit, boots set in the dirty, hunched over as you carefully trace out the strange lump. It’s more than sediment. Bone but not a skeleton. Likely animal and bent into some tool. You have to be delicate. It’s not like the movies, you can’t just dig your hand in and rip it out.

Your earbud drones as a retro R&B playlist keeps your mind at focus. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove, feeling the flecks of dirt cling to your skin. You ignore it and press on. Just a little more, a little more.

It’s bigger than you expect. Just as you think it might come free, you find it goes further down. You can make out the jagged break and the hide wrapping at it’s base. A spear of some sort.

You roll your shoulders out and put your tools down on the open role. You peel of the gloves and reach for the tall insulated bottle of water. You gulp, your throat cooling nicely at the flow. You cap the bottle and clear your throat, listening to the silence of the mountain.

Yet it isn’t quiet. You glance around at the subtle scratching, a strange tapping across the ground. It could be vermin. It’s not unusual to disturb a nest of one thing or another on a dig but they usually leave early on.

You put the bottle down and shove your hand back into a glove. A puffy breath comes over the scratching. Several breaths in quick succession, as if there’s something sniff. You keep your other glove in your grip and stand. Your legs are so cramped that your steps are stiff and stunted.

As you search for the source, there’s a yipe and a fuzzy shape catches your eye. You tilt your head, thoroughly confused at the barking beast. You’re not certain that chihuahuas are native to Norway. At least, you wouldn’t assume so.

The ashy blond dog has longer fur along its ears and chest and a white bolt down its chest. You can tell it isn’t wild despite its behaviour as it is finely groomed and wears a bright red collar. You approach the fence as it hops, stopping only to try to dig beneath with its dirtied paws.

“Hi, buddy,” you near the eager dog, “how’d you get up here?”

You stop just across from the dog and poke your fingers through the fence. It stops, you think a ‘he’, and sniffs your fingers. His cold nose tickles you and you wiggle until you can pet his head. The little thunderbolt emblem on hiss collar peeks through his mane. There might be some information there.

“Thunder!” The booming voice sounds like the very thing it decries, “Thunder, you pest, where’re you off too?”

There’s a crunching of soil and rock along the mountain pass as the dog growls and barks again, turning to face the skewing of a towering shadow. You watch in shock at the approach. You didn’t think there was life so far up. That or someone has chosen a rather treacherous hiking trail.

The dog, you assume ‘Thunder’, bounces back and forth in anticipation of his own, calling to him with his pitchy yaps. The man appears around the jagged rock and you feel the air knocked from your chest. You slowly reach to take out your earbud and tuck it in a pocket.

Wow. You blink to make sure it’s real. To be certain this isn’t some trick of the mind or this ancient land. Maybe the gods are real here.

He’s tall and broad and handsome. His canvas jacket does little to conceal his muscular build as his jeans are snug to his thick thighs. You think he’s even bigger than Steve. You wince at the reminder of the man but it quickly flits away. You can’t ignore the man before you with his golden tresses twisted back into a low bun, stray strands wisping forward to frame his stony jaw and stormy blue eyes.

You stand gaping through the fence as the man flinches in fright. His gaze meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink as he gives a crooked grin, “ah, Thunder, my darling, you’ve found a friend.”

He whistles and the dog lunges forward. He picks up the chihuahua, their size difference almost comical as he cradles him in one arm. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can barely think.

You snap your mouth shut and clear your throat. Work. That’s what you should be doing.

“Hello,” the man nears the other side of the fence before you can move away, “I’ve been wondering what this is all about. The signs...” he points with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, uh,” you peer around as if lost. You sort of are. “A dig. Er. Grant,” you stammer out. You take a breath and still your mind, “I work with an archeological society in New York. We’ve been sponsored by your national board to exhume this site.”

“Ah, yes, makes sense,” he lowers his brows thoughtfully as the dog squirms in his hold, yiping and biting at his sleeve. “Forgive me, she is rather uncouth.” He raises the dog higher and she wiggles in his arm. You see it now, definitely a pampered girl. “This is Thunder. She lives up to her namesake, eh?”

“Uh, yeah,” you give a brittle smile, unsure.

“Thor,” he dips his chin down, “I live just up the pass.”

“You do?” You wonder curiously. “All the way up here?”

“Oh yes, if you saw the old haunt, you might just want to dig that up too,” he jokes. “We usually go up the pass, towards the river.”

“The river?”

“Yes, you mustn’t stray far from here,” he remarks as he raises a hand to lean on the fence, only to nearly tip the unanchored grating. “Oooh, apologies,” he rights himself with a laugh, “anyhow, it is nice to see a new face around here. Better to have a name for it.”

“Right, uh,” you offer your name and giggle nervously, “it’s just me on-site, guess I forget my manners.”

“Not to worry. As the resident mountain man, my etiquette does lack,” he winces as Thunder chomps on his thumb knuckle, “eh, you monster, alright.” He holds her up and she pokes her nose through the fence, “she loves new people. Not so keen on the old.”

“She's cute,” you scratch her nose and she licks your fingers. “Not exactly a native species.”

“Who knows where she came from? Found the little dragon in the woods. Suppose someone left her there. She was covered in mud, so small I though she was a bloody toad,” he muses as he brings her back against his chest and rocks her, “it was only her thunderous barks which told me otherwise, isn’t that right, darling?”

He makes a kissy noise at her and her fluffy tail wags wildly against him. You smile more genuinely. It is nice to have another living thing around after digging up the broken and dead for so long.

“So you’re from New York?” He asks abruptly, his blue eyes rolling over you like a tide.

“Yeah,” you utter breathily, “yes, New York.”

“You’ve been here a while?”

“Couple months,” you shift and twist your glove.

“Wonderful, and you’ve done much exploring? You must live in town.”

“About three hours,” you point towards the gravelly road, “haven’t had much time for sightseeing but I found a good fish shop.”

“A shop? That’s no good. We catch our own fish, fry ‘em up over the pit,” he says, “that’s the way we do it up here.”

You nod, “sounds fun. Well, er,” you turn halfway and look around, your eyes skimming up to the cloudy sky, “I should probably hustle. Looks like rain.”

“That it does but it won’t be ‘til midnight,” he assures.

“You think it’ll hold out?”

“I know so,” he affirms and lingers by the fence, trying to see past you, “what exactly are you uncovering over there?”

“Not much so far,” you pull on your loose glove.

“You must know what this place was. A raider’s camp.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm, yes, the raiders would camp upon the pass away from those who might come ashore, then go off themselves to find a coast to reap,” he explains.

“And how do you know all that?” You ask as you tramp back to your place in the dirt.

“Suppose some of my ancestors camped here with them,” he offers casually, “for so long as we’ve been up here. Once the viking scamps settled, they had to find a home somewhere. Some fellow named Agmundr or another built a stone house further up.”

“Admundr? Family?” You prompt.

“Distant,” he assures, “been some time and that stone house is now a foundation.”

You get down to your knees as you grab your brush and peek over at him, “thanks for the information. I’ll have to add it to the land report. Have them crosscheck in the archives.”

“Not at all. You won’t find it all on your paper, you know? We carry or history on our tongues here.”

“Sure,” you say as you bend over the spearhead and start again.

“You don’t mind if I watch? I always did love history and I’ve never seen a proper dig before.”

“Not much going on, I’m afraid,” you shrug, “but if you want.”

“Thunder will have a tantrum if I go,” he chuckles, “she likes you.”

“Hm,” you scoff, “she is very outspoken.”

You set your eyes on your task but can’t shake the awareness of your audience. It’s not too unusual. There were a few digs you did early on in the heart of the city and people loved to ogle you. This is different. Just the two of you. A stranger even. Friendly as he is, you’re happy for the fence, even if it is rather flimsy.

“Those bones aren’t for you,” he says to the dog as she wriggles in his grasp. “Let’s find a stick then, you little pest.”

High Value Hero 8: The Chalet/END

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY

Summary: America’s golden boy, Steve Rogers, doesn’t have the most modern view of women behind closed doors. And the podcasts his buddy Sam has introduced him to don’t help the situation. Unfortunately for you, you catch his eye when you become his next door neighbor.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Relationship: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: No beta reader. This gets…pretty fucking dark, so read the warnings.

Warnings: non-con, smut, misogyny, somnophilia, drugging, stalking, breeding kink, gaslighting, toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, size kink if you squint, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, murder, voyeurism, and a whole host of others that will be added as we go on.

This is a dark fic - so read the damn warnings. YOU are responsible for your own media consumption.

The rest of the holiday was much calmer after Taylor had left. Her fight with Steve left you somewhat shaken. You’d never seen her this unhinged before and to make matters worse she kept calling and texting you. You ignored her for the time being, still upset that she’d caused such a shameful display and attacked Steve.

You tried to push your memories of the fight out of your mind as Steve drove up the winding road to Tony’s ski chalet. The resort was four hours from the nearest city and the house was about three miles from the resort itself. You had gotten lucky that a large snowstorm had dumped a few feet of snow the day before you arrived. The forest surrounding the house was like a winter wonderland and moonlight reflected brightly off of the white snow.

“We’re here!” Steve announced and looked at you.

“I thought you said it was a small chalet.” You gawked at the massive house as you got out of the car.

“Small by Tony’s standards.” He shrugged, “I just texted you the code to the door. How about you head in while I get the bags. It’s freezing out here and I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“You won’t argue with that.” You agreed, shutting the car door and quickly heading inside.

You rubbed your hands together when you entered the house and were relieved to find the heat already on. You looked around the large open floor plan and somehow the chalet seemed even larger on the inside. Despite its somewhat modern style, it still felt cozy on account of its large fireplaces and the warm toned wood. You wandered around, finding your way to the kitchen area and opened the double fridge. It was already stocked with food for your stay and there was more than enough wine for the time you’d be there.

You took off your coat and scarf then grabbed a bottle of red wine. You poured glasses for you and Steve.

“Steve, come here!” You called to him cheerily when you heard him come through the door and wipe his feet on the mat, “We can deal with the bags later.”

“Let me just take them up - “ Steve stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you standing with a glass of wine in the kitchen. He walked up to you and quickly snatched it away.

“Hey! What the hell?” You exclaimed as you reached for it, “Steve, stop playing around!”

“I’m not playing, Y/N.” He snapped at you and looked at you sternly, “You shouldn’t be drinking when you’re – when you’re sick.”

“I’ve just been a little nauseated lately. That’s all, but I feel fine today.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself, “You still puked yesterday, Y/N.” He responded with concern, “It’s at least two hours to the nearest real hospital. You’d have to get medevacked. I just don’t want to take any chances. That’s all.”

You huffed but Steve was right, god forbid you irritated your stomach even further and made yourself sicker. You pouted as you put the bottle away and poured the glasses of wine down the sink. Steve looked through the shelves and found chocolate bars to make hot cocoa. He also pulled some whipped cream out of the fridge.

“How about I make us a fire and you whip up some of this instead?” He counter offered gently with a soft smile as he rubbed his knuckles up and down your arm, “It’s a bit more fitting for the weather too.”

“I suppose it is more fitting.” You scrunch your nose, hating to admit that he was right.

~~~

Steve put on some of his favorite music from the ‘40s and tended to the fire with the blowpoke to make sure it was just right. When he was finished he settled onto the couch next to you under the blanket. You watched the flames whip around the fireplace and enjoyed the scent of the burning logs. The crackling noises only added to the cozy atmosphere.

You eventually started to yawn as sleep crept over you. Steve rubbed your shoulder and then gave you a peck on the top of your head.

“Time for bed, doll.” He announced with a yawn, as he slowly got up.

You let out a whimper, “I’m too tired to make it upstairs.” You whined and collapsed onto the couch where he had been sitting.

Steve chuckled at you softly and then suddenly picked you up bridal style. You yelped at his sudden movement and he swiftly walked across the room and up the stairs. You wrapped your arm around his neck as your body jostled with each step. Steve nudged the door to your room open with his foot and then playfully dropped you on your bed.

“There, now all you have to do is pass out.” He teased you, “All the hard work’s done.”

He started for the door but then you called him back, “You can sleep in here tonight, if you want.” You offered coyly.

Steve looked at you surprised, “Are you sure? I don’t want to - “

“Come here.” You beckoned him with your hand out.

Steve approached you slowly and grabbed it. You pulled him towards you and into a kiss. It was gentle at first and his soft lips felt amazing. His large hands caressed your face as he deepened the kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and Steve pushed you backwards onto the bed. You scooted towards the pillows and then sat up to quickly undress yourself as Steve did the same.

You could feel the tension coming off of him as he gazed at your naked form. Your eyes traveled down the vee that led from his lower abs to his large and girthy cock. You knew he was big, but not that big. He was intimidatingly large. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips in anticipation and he chuckled at your reaction as he languidly stroked his cock.

Steve kneeled on the bed and then crawled up your body. He hovered over you and spread your legs with his thighs. You whined as he began to kiss down your neck and shoulders. The warmth of his body and his touch felt so familiar to you. You could feel yourself become instantly wet and your pussy quiver with anticipation.

He moved his hand between your legs and gently ran two of his fingers between your dripping folds.

“You're already so wet for me, doll.” He purred seductively in your ear.

You felt an aching need within you to be filled and grabbed his hand by the wrist.

“Please just fuck me, Steve.” You nearly begged him, “I need to feel you.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” He huskily rasped into your ear as he lined himself up with your slit and then slowly pushed into your heat.

“Fuck!” You gasped as you felt yourself stretch around him, “Oh my god!”

The stretch didn’t burn nearly as much as you had expected. There was just an instantly gratifying fullness. Steve began to move and you bit your lip while you wrapped your thighs around him tighter, savoring the feeling of the smooth skin of his hard cock massaging your inner walls.

Steve moved expertly within you, as if he knew your body like the back of his hand. Your pussy clenched around him as he instantly hit all of the right spots within you. You closed your eyes as they rolled and gave into the growing pleasure.

“So fucking perfect for me.” He moaned as thrust into you faster, “You like this big dick don’t you, baby.”

You mewled as you felt the coil in your belly begin to tighten and your legs start to shake. Your nails dug into his back and you felt his hot breath against your neck.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He growled with sharp thrusts that made you yelp as the sharply hit against your cervix.

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned breathily, ‘Yes, I love it.”

He reached his hand underneath you to grab your ass and pull you closer to hit at a deeper angle, “What do you love? Hm?”

Your breathing became labored as your legs tensed, “Your big dick. It feels so fucking good.”

Steve snarled as he snapped his hips into you roughly. You felt your back arch off the bed and squeeze down around him so hard you felt like you were going to break him. The coil snapped and Steve groaned as your body thrashed underneath his.

“Steve! Steve!” You chanted as bliss washed over your body and you saw stars.

Steve pounded into you as he rode you through your high and chased his at the same time.

“Not gonna last any longer, doll.” He panted as his hips snapped harshly, “Pussy’s too fucking good.”

“Fuck, I wanna put another one in you,” He groaned as his cock twitched and began to pulse as he painted your inner walls. Steve moaned as he gave you a few more sloppy thrusts and then collapsed on top of you.

You gently ran your fingers across his back and up and down his neck while you caught your breath. Then you remembered what he said, “I wanna put another one in you,” then started giggling.

“What are you giggling about?” He murmured between bites on your shoulder.

“I wanna put another one in you?” You snorted, “Like what? You wish you had another dick, Steve? Because this one is more than enough.”

He paused for a moment and then laughed lightly, “I dunno what I meant.” He lied, “My brain doesn’t exactly work properly during sex. Especially not with you.” He rolled off of you and pulled you into his chest.

You snuggled against him as he ran his hands gently up and down your back. He let out a satisfied hum before kissing you on the forehead.

“Come on, let’s take a nap, doll.” He said mischievously, “You need to rest up because I’m not done with you yet.”

~~~

The next few days were utter bliss and you couldn’t have planned for a more perfect getaway. You’d have mind blowing sex with Steve throughout the night, then get up to make breakfast, before you hit the slopes and hung out at the resort until it was time for you to come back and make dinner.

Sex with Steve was something that you’d never experienced with a new partner before. It was like you’d been lovers for a while and he’d taken the time to know exactly what got you off. His appetite was insatiable and he fucked you in every postion imaginable on almost every surface of the chalet.

Your time on slopes wasn’t as adrenaline inducing as you hoped it was because Steve had never skied before. So instead you helped instruct him on the bunny slopes while giggling at the super soldier losing his footing and falling down. Thankfully no one was able to recognize him because of how covered up he was.

One day you finally wanted to branch out on your own and hit up one of the more advanced slopes while he got lunch.

“Hey,” You said as you grabbed his arm to help him up off the ground after he had fallen again, “How about you grab something to eat while I go on one of the harder slopes? I can meet you back at the house.”

You couldn’t see Steve’s eyes through his ski goggles, only the distorted reflection of your face. But you could see how his hands gripped his poles and small ticks in his jaw. You’d learned to read his body language over the past few days and knew he wasn’t happy with the idea.

You let out a deep exhale and grabbed his arm gently to try and placate him, “Look, I know we were supposed to spend most of this trip together, but I haven’t been up here in a really long time. It’ll only be an hour or two.”

“When was the last time you’ve been up here? Or Skiing at all for that matter?” He challenged you and you could hear the irritation in his voice, “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to just go off and do something more dangerous when maybe you don’t have your bearings?”

You were taken aback at how quickly his demeanor changed, “Yes, it’s been a while, but I’ve been doing this since I was a kid –”

“No, it’s out of the question, Y/N.” He stated forcefully, “Like I said earlier, it’s two hours to the nearest actual hospital and I also promised your dad I wouldn’t let you get hurt.”

“Out of the question?!” You sassed him back in disbelief, “Who the hell do you think - “

Steve dropped his ski poles and grabbed you tightly by the arm, “I’m saying no for your own good. Now come on before you start drawing attention.”

You stared at him for a while not knowing what to make of the interaction. Steve had never been like this with you before. You preferred to talk about it in private and so you complied and went back to the house.

You angrily huffed as you removed your gear and stomped over to the kitchen to get some water. You practically slammed the glass down before you started to make your way towards the stairs. Steve intercepted you and tried to pull you in for a hug but you pushed him away.

“Stop it!” You seethed at him, “I just want to go upstairs and be alone right now.”

You saw a darkness flicker across his face but then it softened and he reached out for you again.

“Hey, doll, don’t be like that.” He cooed as he fought you and pulled you into a smothering embrace, “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

You tried to pull away but he was too strong, “You sound more like you’re trying to control me, Steve and you're not my goddamn father.”

He let go of you just enough for you to pull away slightly before one of his hands grabbed you by the back of the neck with just enough pressure to keep you in place and the other gently caressed your face.

“I would lose my shit, Y/N, if I let you get hurt.” He told you calmly with a bit of harshness in his voice, “I’d fucking burn the world down if something happened to the two of you.”

“What?” You looked at him confused, “The two of us?”

You felt a sinking feeling in your gut as Steve began to stroke your face gently and then kissed you softly on the forehead. His silence made your blood run cold.

“Do you really think you’ve had a stomach bug for this long, sweetheart?” He asked you almost condescendingly with his head cocked to the side, “Or that what? Your hormones were just out of whack because of all the stress. How long has it been since you’ve had your period? Because I fucking know.” Steve lightly taunted as he squeezed one of your tender breasts.

You winced in pain and tried to push him away from you. Your heart began to pound in your chest as his words registered, but you couldn’t believe what he was saying. It wasn’t possible. He let you go and you stumbled backwards away from him.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, doll.” He told you calmly as he gazed at you with a small smirk, “How would that even be possible. Hm?” Steve took slow deliberate and menacing strides towards you as you continued to move away from him as terror rose within your body.

“Ohhh…my body is so sore after drinking that tea.” He mocked you, “Well if you say that’s normal, then I guess it is, Steve.”

“No, no, no.” You shook your head in disbelief, “No, you wouldn’t do that, Steve. You wouldn’t do that.” You were shaking now as the realization of what Steve had done hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Do what?” He asked with his lip curled, “Take what’s mine? You belonged to me the moment I saw you in that hallway, Y/N. It just took you this long for you to finally realize it.”

“Taylor was right about you.” You said softly as tears started to stream down your face, “She was right and you made us think - you made us think she was the crazy one! You fucking psycho! You raped me and you -“

“Raped you?” Steve scoffed, “You fucking feminists call everything rape these days, you know that? You can’t rape what belongs to you, doll. What kind of sense does that even make? Use your fucking brain, Y/N.”

Your legs almost gave out when you heard those viscous words fall from Steve’s lips. You tried to muster as much courage as you could as you took in a shaky breath.

“I’m going to leave now. I’m going to leave and I don’t want you to ever come near me again.” You told him as your voice quavered.

Steve snickered in amusement as he watched you trying to hold yourself together and tutted you, “No, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere with my baby. So sit the fuck down and stop being such a drama queen.”

Your body acted before your mind could and made a run for the door. Steve chuckled darkly as he quickly ran ahead of you and stood in front it, blocking you from escape. You turned around and bolted up the stairs towards one of the guest bedrooms as fast as you could. When you entered the one at the farthest end of the hallway you closed and locked the door behind you.

You looked around the room for anything you could use as a weapon and saw a blowpoke near the fireplace. You grabbed it and then stood behind the door waiting for Steve. You knew it wouldn’t take him down entirely, but maybe it would give you enough time to get a good head start.

“Y/N!” You heard him call out for you as he reached the top of the stairs, “Y/N, sweetheart, you need to calm down. All of this excitement isn’t good for the baby.”

You shook uncontrollably and tried to stifle your sobs. You were scared and also ashamed. How did you let such a monster into your life? How did you not pick up on any signals at all? Was he just that good or were you just that stupid? Taylor tried to warn you and you were too convinced by Steve that he was a good guy you ignored her pleas when she tried to save you.

Steve’s heavy footsteps got closer and closer. You heard them stop at the door of the room next to yours and open it. He walked around for a bit and then left. You knew the room you were in was next and tried to prepare yourself.

“I know you’re in here, baby.” He said before he opened the door.

Steve wailed as you hit his foot with the blowpoke. The curved hook stabbed through his foot and you could see blood stain his thick wool socks. You removed it and then whacked him in the head before sprinting past him as he fell to the ground holding his head.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!!” He bellowed in the distance, “YOU FUCKING DUMB BITCH!”

You quickly threw on your boots and coat and made a run for it through the snow. You knew he would chase you down the main road and you decided to try and chance it by making it through the woods to the resort. You could see the ski lift in the distance and all you needed to do was make it there, but the snow was so much deeper than you anticipated.

You tried to run as fast as you could but instead kept tripping and falling into it. Despite how hard the trek was, you were determined to get away from Steve.

You soon realized that you didn’t hear anyone around you. You didn’t hear another set of footsteps or Steve calling after you. You knew he wasn’t going to let you go, but why was he being so quiet? The silence put you on edge, but you forced yourself to start moving again.

After what seemed like at least twenty minutes you heard a large rock hit a tree next to you. Heavy snow fell from the tall branches and you ran away trying not to get hit with it. You heard Steve laughing darkly behind you.

You turned and couldn’t see him, so you ran to hide and covered your mouth to keep him from seeing your warm breath in the cold air. But it was also to stifle your sobs.

You heard footsteps crunching in the snow and Steve let out an annoyed sigh, “Sweetheart, you’re not getting away from me. Not with that tracker I put in you.”

You gasped against your palm, but it was clearly loud enough to hear with his advanced hearing.

“I’m not going to come over to that tree and drag you back to the house. Besides, I would never lay a hand on you.” He declared arrogantly, “No, I’m going to give you a choice.”

“A choice?” You thought to yourself. You knew it was just some fucked up game.

“You come back to the house with me and you accept that we’re a family now.” He started to explain to you, “Or, you choose not to. In which case, I will kill every single one of those snot nosed little brats in your class one by one until you come to your senses.”

You choked out a horrified sob. Not your students. You couldn’t believe that he was threatening them. The thought of him harming them made bile rise into your mouth.

“Oh? You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?” Steve continued nonchalantly, “What are their names again, baby? Bella…Jayden…oh that little weirdo Ryan. Maybe I’ll start with Ryan. It’s not like that kid’s going places anyway.”

You leaned against the tree and your body sank until you were sitting on the snow, your knees against your chest as you covered your face and cried. Steve would do it. You knew he would and you couldn’t let that happen. You heard his footsteps as he neared. He stopped in front of you and held out his hand.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go home.”

~~~

SIX YEARS LATER…

The camera crew did their final checks on the lighting as the stylists flitted around you and your family. You sat next to Steve in a feminine floral dress paired with a gold cross necklace and your hair pinned back with just a few coils framing your face. Steve sat next to you in a button up with rolled up sleeves and dress pants chatting with the interviewer before you were going to start recording.

You shushed your children and told them to quiet down before the cameras were about to start rolling. The oldest was Molly, who was followed by the twins Ronan and Conor. Then there were Christopher, Declan, and Sean. Your youngest Katie, who just started teething, squirmed on your lap as you held her against your growing belly. You were pregnant, again. But Steve had said you were already getting up there for a woman when he met you, and so he couldn’t waste time on you having too many breaks between the children.

“Alright, are we ready to start?” the chipper interviewer asked with a smile.

You knew the drill and you smiled back at her, hoping that it reached your eyes. You had learned your lesson after the first time a tabloid said you looked like you were being held hostage in your engagement photos with Steve. Taylor paid the price for it and after such a traumatizing loss, you fully realized that there was nothing too low or depraved Steve wouldn’t do to get what he wanted from you.

“Rolling.” The cameraman announced.

“So, President-elect Rogers and Mrs. Rogers, thank you so much for inviting us into your home this afternoon, along with your beautiful family.”

“It’s a pleasure having you here.” You smiled back at her, faking as much warmth as possible.

“President-elect- “

“Please, please, just call me Steve.” He interjected, “I really am still just that simple guy from Brooklyn.”

The interviewer chuckled, “Well, and that may be why the voters connected with you so much, Steve. You’re the first American presidential candidate to win 49 states since Ronal Reagan in the 1980s. You’re also the first Republican candidate to - “

You sat there with a Stepford smile plastered across your face as you turned to Steve to look adoringly at him, smile back at the interviewer, shush one of your children playfully and at the same time think about what your life could have been.

What if you hadn’t moved into that apartment building? What if Ethan had helped you move instead of Steve? What if you had listened to Taylor? What if you hadn’t been so blind? What if you hadn’t been so stupid?

“Mrs. Rogers?” The interviewer asked, pulling you from your thoughts, “Why do you think the voters connected so much with your husband?”

You knew this answer despite how much it wanted to make you vomit. You had been coached on it over and over again.

“Well, I think that voters see the sacrifices my husband made when he carried the shield, how he put himself in danger selflessly for others. I think they relate to him from even before the serum when he was a scrappy kid in Brooklyn.”

“Aww..sweetie.” Steve beamed at you as he squeezed your hand.

“But, I also think that when they look at our family, they understand how big his heart truly is.” You continued, “That he has compassion. That he is a true leader, in both his work, the church, the community, and in our home.”

Steve put his arm around your shoulder and gave you a peck on the head.

“To summarize what I think you’re trying to say, honey, I think it’s just that when a lot of voters see me, they see the traditional values they want to get back to.”