“What’s the matter honey, you said you wanted to fight with me.”
His mocking tone makes you sneer at him, even as your eyes take him in, it was true you HAD said that once upon a time, when he was captain america, a good man, not….this.
A shadow of himself, all tall, dark and menacing.
When he pulls on the leash he holds in his black gloved hand, it pulls on the collar around your neck and you stumble forward, right into the front of his body, your struggle is weak at best because it’s still STEVE, the man you married only last summer.
When he puts two fingers in between the collar and your neck and tugs a bit upward, it makes you go on your tip toes, “Now be a good girl and do as I say and maybe i’ll fuck you how you deserve later.”
Pairing: Depending on choice (story will branch) Stucky x OC, or Captain Hydra x OC.
Summary: Liberty, a Hydra made beast, has been marked to be destroyed. As she lay dying, she is discovered by a man, bearing a striking resemblance to Captain America.
C/W: Violence mentioned, gunshot wound. Captain Hydra is not kind!! This story will explore dark themes such as control, torture, manipulative relationships, being part of the bad guys, and psychological games. One route will be a HEA, the other will be as it should.
*This story will be a hodge podge of the MCU, and Comic universe. I will explain where Captain Hydra is from, but bear with me as we get there. :)
Divider: Saradika_Graphics
Liberty woke, hot, her skin bare, a dark plum colored sheet wrapping her body as she jerked upwards. Her hands patted around her body, her wounds were covered, first aid rendered, properly. Which was surprising, most of the time a Hydra goon would toss her into a cell, and let her wounds heal naturally. Which was extremely uncomfortable, and left her in a state of consistent pain.
The world was still dark, and she vaguely wondered if this was the same night or a different one.
She dragged herself from the bed, the darkness of the bedroom, giving way to her better vision, after all a hunter needed to be able to see in the dark. The room was almost empty, the only item a large bed, and a nightstand. No lamp, no identifying information. She was silent as she moved around the room, pulling the sheet tight around her body, wrapping it like an old roman toga to give her more fluidity.
Liberty couldn't hear the man that had found her. At this point she was assuming he had brought her back to his home. Couldn't hear the sounds of sleep, or snoring, anything. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Signaling to her instincts she was in this home with another predator.
As she exited the room, she scouted the hallway, and saw the glimmer of city lights to her left, trickling in from an open archway, so she padded that way, soft and silent.
Her eyes were drawn to the floor to ceiling windows, the city lights gleaming, sparkling, as ant-like specks scurried around in the night. The living room was quiet, sparse as well. Just a couch, and a coffee table stacked with books. Once she made it to the windows, she pressed her hands to the glass, not caring about leaving prints, her nose mushed a bit against it, to look out at the city.
The Soldier had not killed her… he had chosen to leave before finishing the job.
The Soldier and her were…friends, which probably was not the right word but they had grown close in the times they were both active. Hydra chose to turn a blind eye, considering they wiped The Soldier whenever they felt, especially if he started growing non-compliant. But he had made a choice with her. A choice that she was having a hard time grasping.
As she grows a bit lost in her thoughts, thinking of a metal arm, brown eyes, and that quietness beside her... she feels eyes on her back.
She doesn't turn, or acknowledge the man standing behind her now, she can hear him hum in displeasure.
“You know? Men have shown me less disrespect and ended up dead.”
His voice was cold, but she could hear the small hitch of interest. So she did turn then her golden,brown eyes, snagging on his large frame, arms crossed over his bare chest, scars littering his skin, raised burn marks, cuts, pocketed flesh…she dragged her eyes to his face, turning her full body now. Her vision not so clouded now, she can see this man is not the good Captain. Even if his build, facial structure is similar. His dirty blond hair is cropped close to his head, his face a bit more gaunt...“oh my apologies, Savior, should I bow?
She could see the microscopic twitch in his right eyebrow at her comment, and the narrowing of his eyes. “You've got a mouth on you, most would be shakin’, should be thankful I pulled you from the grave.” His tone had a Brooklyn lit to it, something she had noticed in the alleyway, hard and gravelly. She wondered did the Captain America sound the same?
“I had it under control.” She hissed, now she owed this unknown man a debt, a life debt and he knew that she knew it. He pushed off the doorway with his shoulder, uncrossing his arms, she stood straighter, her eyes tracking his movements, as he slinked towards her.
“Ah, yes, my folly. You did have the meeting with Death under control, hands already shaking.” Her nose scrunched, as a growl rumbled in her throat. Her sharpened teeth, flashing in the light, and to her surprise the man grinned, and only advanced closer.
Authors Note: The story will pick up speed once I finish laying some of the ground work. :)
Liberty is unaware of who this man is, all she knows he is extremely, similar to Captain America.
Pairing: Depending on choice (story will branch) Stucky x OC, or Captain Hydra x OC.
Summary: Liberty, a Hydra made beast, has been marked to be destroyed. As she lay dying, she is discovered by a man, bearing a striking resemblance to Captain America.
C/W: Violence mentioned, gunshot wound. Captain Hydra is not kind!! This story will explore dark themes such as control, torture, manipulative relationships, being part of the bad guys, and psychological games. One route will be a HEA, the other will be as it should.
*This story will be a hodge podge of the MCU, and Comic universe. I will explain where Captain Hydra is from, but bear with me as we get there. :)
End of Chapter is links to who each named person is, if you'd like more information on them!
Divider: Saradika_Graphics
Liberty was certain she was dying.
She could taste pennies in her mouth, her head was spinning, heavy rain pounding against her body, as she lay curled in the fetal position. The night was deep, and dark. She had been sent out on a mission, direct orders of Lukin, and then Lukin had sent The Soldier after her.
Liberty fingers dug into the bullet wound lodged in her upper chest, panting, sweat dripping down her skin, mixing with the rainwater. The Soldier had used special bullets. Bullets designed to bring her down. Coated in poison, something Hydra had chosen to not raise her tolerance in, in case she ever needed to be dealt with, and clearly that time had come.
If she could just get the bullet out!! Her fingers were deep in the wound, blood soaking her tactical shirt, as she dug, her head woozy, she wasn't healing like she was suppose to be!
She heard footsteps approaching, heavy, purposefully…her vision blurred, as she saw a man confidently heading towards her. Familiar glint of blond hair, shit, shit, is that Captain Am… she attempted to scramble upwards, to pull away, a growling in her throat. He did not stop, she was most certainly good as dead if it was him. Then she saw it, his eyes…they were dark stormy waters, a portion of his right eye had red bleeding through the bottom. Liberty froze, her hand wet with blood, as she slid against the alley way wall.
She scented the air, her noise still working the best it could against the stench of trash, it was the smell of blood, not hers, gunpowder, and musk. His voice was deeper, rough, sharp jagged edges compared to the golden hero, “Ah, I see, the organization still doesn't know how to keep its pets.”
This was definitely not the Captain, he was speaking of Hydra, as if he was part of them. Her head fell back against the brick wall, rough brick catching her hair. “Fu..ck off.” she hissed, her hand dropping from her wound, her head growing heavier now, drooping on her neck.
“Tsk. Is that the way to speak to your savior?” Her brows furrowed, as her breath came out sharper, as he crouched down in front of her, and she saw it, a glint of maliciousness, a familiar look. Something she was used to seeing in Lukin's eyes. His long, dexterous fingers pressed into her wound without warning, a sick squelch of fluid, as blood gushed out, easily reaching the embedded bullet.
He was not gentle, as he scooped, and yanked it from her wound, his other hand slapping down on her mouth to keep her from making any involuntary noise. She was exhausted, that was the only reason she was allowing this. Blood coated his fingers, he wiped his hands and the bullet clean on her own clothes, then pocketed the bullet.
Her eyes rolled, the poison was trying to embed itself, but her enhanced immune system was working to eradicate it now that the source was removed, and she was starting to lose her vision, as she pushed at the hand clamped down hard on her mouth. It was a ridiculous struggle.
He pulls at the bottom of her shirt, ripping cloth free to pack the wound to staunch the blood flow. His hand gripping her cheeks tight, strong is all she can think, his grip causing her teeth to grind together. She wants to bite him, and her eyes must tell him so, cause he smirks.
“One man's trash….” Was the last thing she heard, as she blacked out, for the first time in her long life.
Author Notes: I PROMISE I AM STILL WORKING ON MY OTHER STORIES. <3
this one slapped me in the head, and Liberty is one of my favorite OC's to write.
Hi Zombie! 🩷 Thanks for slamming the horny fantasy button 😆
Sorry Nick. I like you and all, but you're next to two Steve's, so my reaction to you was meh
Farmhand Steve! Imagine that charming, golden boy smile and flexing muscles 🫠 The moment he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face my legs would give out. And I bet he'd go around shirtless in the summer heat.
I'd bring him lemonade just to watch him swallow, and to daydream about letting him do so many dirty things to me 🥵
Any day I would choose him over and over again, especially with me still being in my soft era.
However...
I'm ovulating
and you dropped Warlord Captain Hydra
The second I read that and thought of him, my panties disintegrated 🥴
He's intense. You know he is. It's not just warlord Steve, but warlord Captain Hydra! He's merciless and appears to love chaos, but his type of mayhem is very much calculated. He has ten plans for a single goal - and he has multiple ways to ruin you.
The only thing you can be certain with him is that you're his. He doesn't get bored. He's not impulsive in his decisions. He calculated and strategized your presence and purpose in his life.
He will gain everything from you, even the heart you vow to protect as he conquers your body. And he will introduce you to pleasures and kinks you never dared to imagine.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, near drowning, branding, oral sex (female receiving), dry humping, edging, teasing, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 5.3K
Previous
Series Masterlist
You groan and stretch out your cramped muscles. Every part of your body is stiff. Aching from sleeping in a hard chair, while that horrid man slept peacefully. Stupid man with his naked body sprawled out. There was quite literally nothing else to stare at and the chair was barely comfortable to sleep.
You sigh loudly, letting your head fall back. What has your life become? You once lived a simple life, playing around the farm. Laughing with the hired help. The help never seemed to quite do anything, he was there to learn a job, but your mother wanted him to be a kid, and for you to have a playmate. And then it was all about letting people lace your corsets up extra tight, standing up straight, pinching your cheeks to have a natural flush to your skin. Letting people mess with your hair, while it’s put up. Becoming the epitome of femininity while men gawk at you, and take bets on if your body can handle their touch, and then their seed.
Gross. Not that this place is much different. You’re still trapped against your will with nowhere else to go but to your death in the water. As cruel as Steve seems, and his words are, he hasn’t taken you against his will. The smacks across your face are enough to get your attention without hurting too much. Leaving the slightest burn and tingle to your skin. You hate it and hate him.
You glower at him. Willing him to wake up without saying anything. Let him go prance around the ship, and give you his bed for the day. You could even behave and not keep him locked out, you just want some sleep. And the bed is comfortable. Warm. Plush. And so much better than being tied into this chair like a dulled ornament.
Your foot starts a rhythmic tapping as you glare at him. He’s being ridiculous and you know that he hears you, but you don’t give him the satisfaction that you spoke first. You just want to sleep. Sleep will make you feel better and not crabby to the point that you want to hurl something at him once your arms are free.
“You’re annoying,” he groans, and turns away from you. Asshole. “Did you sleep well?” He gives a yawn while you roll your eyes. You will push him overboard the first moment you can.
“Yes, Your Highness, I slept like a princess.”
“Cheeky bitch,” Steve chuckles as he turns to his back. He stares up at the ceiling a few breaths before his head falls over to look at you. “You’ve got bite, I’ll give you that.”
“I’d like to bite you.”
“Oh, I know you would,” he sits up, stretching. Letting his long limbs pull too far from his body. His muscles flex, looking like long sinewed lines as he puts his arms above his head. Your eyes zone in on an odd mark over his chest. Most of his body is covered with scars and black ink, but one scar in particular strikes you.
“Can you draw or paint?” You scowl at him, shaking your head no. His mouth turns up in a smirk. And then he stands, naked as the day he was born, showing all his manhood to you. He takes tentative steps towards you before reaching around the chair you sit in. Grabbing onto his clothes before only taking a few steps back.
Steve drops most of his clothes on you, keeping only his pants in his hand before stepping into the legs. “I thought you wanted to bite me? Too busy staring at my cock, Siren?”
“You’re quite full of yourself.”
“You can touch it,” with his pants not fully pulled up, he steps back in front of you. Close enough that you should be able to reach out to touch him. “Go on, you wanna taste?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you get on your knees for your traitor?” You peek up through your lashes up at Steve, smirking. He hates talking about James, and yet brings him up.
“Oh, I got on my knees all the time. Sucked his fat cock right into my mouth. Even got on all fours while he fucks me from behind,” Steve raises his hand, and you don’t move a muscle, you stare up at him. “I dare you.”
“You’re a whore.”
“I’ve been with one man, and I’m a whore?”
“Your mouth is that of a whore’s,” he gets pissy so easily. It’s almost comical just how easily you can rile him up.
“Weren’t you the one placing your cock near my whore mouth?”
Steve pulls his britches completely up, and then reaches into your lap, grabbing up his shirt. “Things are going to change,” of course they are. “You will join me in my bed.”
“No.”
“And if I want to fuck your whore cunt, I will.”
“Over my dead body!”
“I can arrange that for you,” his lips turn into a crooked smile, showing off a gold tooth, and he winks at you. “I’d rather not have you dead though.”
“Fucking a corpse not your style?”
“No, I prefer my pussy hot,” pig. Steve slides another chair in front of you before sitting in it to put on his boots. “I went soft on you yesterday. Today you’re going to be out on the deck.”
“I don’t know anything about boats.”
“This is a ship, Siren. You’ll learn. You’ll also learn when to get out of the fucking way. “Now,” he puts on another leather boot, and then leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I have warned the crew not to touch you in any way.”
“I suppose I’m yours?”
“That’s exactly right. I can touch you as I please.”
“I’d rather drown than be touched by you.”
“You’d probably be eaten before you drown. That dress would drag you and your perfect tits below the surface before sharks feasted on you. It’d be such a waste,” it feels as if your life is nothing more than a body for men.
“Why are you doing this? Why me?”
“Bucky made you sound absolutely delectable.”
“So you want his sloppy seconds,” the darkness in Steve’s eyes return as he glares at you. Bucky having you before him is such a sore subject. “If you wanted a virgin that only had you, I’m not your girl.”
“You’re not a girl, you’re a woman. And I don’t want a virgin. I want you. You not being a virgin is but a small issue. Let’s go,” you sit still, glaring at him. “What’s the problem?”
“You have me tied up.”
“Next time I’ll tie you in the bed,” he growls, but leans forward to undo your bindings. Keeping his eyes on your heaving chest. “They are quite lovely, Siren. They'll look better out of that dress and corset. Better with my mouth on them.”
“No, thank you, Captain.”
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”
“Is that not what you are?”
“Yep,” in an oddly gentlemanly manner, he reaches a hand down to you, and you take it. Allowing him to help you up, “But coming out of your mouth makes me want to devour you. So only call me that when you’re begging me to fuck you.”
“I’ll never beg for that,” he winks at you again. Cheeky bastard. He doesn’t know anything about you. He might have seen your eyes wandering over his body, but it’s because you were studying his tattoos, his scars, and that mark over his chest. A mark of ownership. A man that was once a tool for someone richer, now is treating you like you’re nothing but property. It makes no sense. But you know enough to keep your damn mouth shut until you learn more.
“You don’t have to stay with me. Just stay on the top deck, and out of everyone’s way. I’ll see to it that Nat makes sure you get your rations for today. But this is a long journey. I need you to get some sunlight and oranges,” such an odd man. Opening the door to his quarters, you gape at the already hustling around men. “We overslept. Have at it, Siren. And if anyone makes you uncomfortable. Let me know.”
Let him know. What would he do if it was him that makes you feel uncomfortable? Would he dispose of himself? Not likely. But everyone else is available to slaughter. A woman that he holds in such regard that she’s protected on this ship. From everything but him. Despicable.
There has to be a reason for all of this. There has to be a point of being taken before your marriage. Then there’s the personal disdain for James. A need to keep you alive, intact, albeit humiliated, but also this constant digging in about James. You can’t help but wonder if this was a payback for James deserting the crew that you would not have been giving such comfortable accommodations.
They weren’t perfect, and definitely not what you had grown accustomed to, but he didn’t leave you caged up with the entertainment. He didn’t refuse you food or drink, and he didn’t force himself on you. What he has done — while unwanted, at first, it made your body react.
Parts of you are confused because you desire James, not him. Except you can’t help but feel flustered with his nearness. His words. Your body reacts, and betrays you, and you fear one day he will learn of such. He’s an enigma. There’s an odd sense of familiarity, and then an overwhelming need to fight him at every turn.
You sigh as you look out at the horizon. There’s nothing but water. And him. You don’t even have to turn around to know that he is watching you. You feel his heated gaze on you everywhere you go. Even when you try to hide. He’s there. He’s everywhere. Everything. And it makes no sense.
You just want off this stupid ship and run away from him. Find a way to get back to James. You’d feel and know if he was dead. You will find him. Captain Hydra can kiss your ass.
You turn around, and lean against the railing, and cross your arms. Your eyes automatically create a line directly to Steve. Just like you knew, he’s staring at you. His brow lifts and a sly smile paints his features. Asshole. But you can’t look away. Your brow lowers, and you glare at the man that changed your life forever. Humor lights up his eyes. You won’t back down from him. No matter what.
You won’t be the first to look away. You’ll stand here for the rest of the day with your chest heaving, and your eyes squinted at him. He doesn’t deserve any relent. He deserves every ounce of your ire. Every morsel of your hatred is given to him. It’s what he deserves. It’s the only way that you can cope with things. He’s the enemy. You are not his guest, you’re a pet. And you need out of here.
“She hates me,” Steve says to Sam. His eyes do not move away from you. They haven’t. But now that he has your actual gaze, instead of your back, he refuses to look away even for a milisecond. Not to mention your sizable bosom heaving with every angered breath you take. The sea looks good on you.
The sun is making you radiant. Highlighting your every feature in the most spectacular way. You seem refreshed, even in your exhaustion. If you weren’t so stubborn he would have allowed you in his bed. And would only touch you once your body was ready for him. His grin grows larger as he envisions you writhing and whimpering in his bed. Oh the ways that he could make you come.
“She hates you because you’re incorrigible. Quit staring.”
“I often wonder what she would do if she was able to escape me. I will always find her. But just how far would she get before I had her back in my grip.”
“Are you bringing her into the council?” Steve nods his head. “And how is that going to work?”
“I’ll have her on a leash, or in my lap. I’ll have her obedient. Just wait,” your glare on him falters only enough for you to turn to your side. You can’t stand the heat of his gaze anymore. Popping your hip harder than necessary on the railing. And things happen so fast, you can’t even right yourself.
There’s something to be said about the knowledge of knowing you’re going to fall to your doom. Everything goes into slow motion. You can practically see every splinter of wood flying around you as the railing bursts at your side. The sound of the ocean gets louder, while the sounds of the crew soften to nothing. Your sight pings on Steve, and everything disappears, but him.
His arrogant grin turns into something akin to true fear, and you’re not going to be alive long enough to even ask him about it. There’s no amount of his immediate action that can stop this. You watch his face contort into a yell, and he takes a few running steps before all that is seen is the clouds, and the peeking sun. This is it. Your watery grave, and no answers to any of your questions.
What only could have been a few seconds stretches out into painfully slow minutes. The world that you have known for such a short time topples down around you before your body folds in on itself, and you break through the water. Viewing the ship and sky from a very different lens. It’s almost beautiful. Like an obscure painting, and it’s a beautiful pattern of swirling colors.
You have no more fight left in you. If there’s no James in your future, you don’t want it. And fight for what? To be back on a ship with Captain Hydra? Become his plaything. He’s taken his time, but you know exactly where this is going. You’re his property. And he can do damn well as he pleases.
So instead of fighting to be handled, you fight to die peacefully. Let your eyes drift close as the ship barrels away from your final imprisonment. You belong to the ocean now, and you’ll let it claim every part of you.
More rubbage from the broken railing falls into the ocean beside you. And it doesn’t matter anymore. You won’t be dying without falling in love. You won’t be dying because you couldn’t produce Alexander Pierce an heir. You’re dying a young life, and knowing that you lived. Maybe not to the fullest, but you lived. You had someone in your life that cared for you, not your womb, but you.
Your vision goes completely black as the arms of death circle around you. You died without being a man’s property. You died knowing you will never be told what to do anymore. You no longer have to play by the rules. You are finally free.
“Steve!” Steve doesn’t care about anyone yelling or screaming his name. He only cares about getting this cursed corset off your body. You can’t breathe, and that blasted thing is not helping.
“My knife!” Sam begrudgingly hands over a knife, and yells at the crew to make themselves scarce. Steve having a weakness is not a good thing. He’s not even sure if you are a weakness to Steve. What he does know is Steve dived into the water without a second thought of his own life. The two of you both should be dead.
Steve cuts through all the boning, ripping apart the contraption. “Steve, she’s gone,” no you aren’t. You weren’t under the water long enough. Not to mention you’re too stubborn to die now. You’ve only been paused for a moment, but he will soon remedy this unfortunate situation.
“Steve!” The captain only growls in response as he tilts your head back. Holding your nose, he presses his lips against your own, and breathes deeply into your body. Going down to your chest, he compresses hard. You will not die today. This is not the end of your story. You will come alive as a new woman.
This is not how things finish.
Things are not complete. And there is much more to do.
All you have to do is breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Take a fucking breath!
He doesn’t stop compressing on your chest, and blowing into your mouth. You will not die today.
Just fucking BREATHE!
Your blood shot eyes pop open wide as the liquid death spews out of your mouth. Your body was consumed with sea water. The very water that tried to claim you for themselves. Steve is too selfish and jealous to let someone or something claim you. You may be a siren, but you are without a doubt his.
Steve’s breath is ragged as he reaches his arms under you. You will rest in his bed. And then later he will join you. In his bed. And if you want to make a comment he will tie you to that bed, and now because of your clumsy nature, and this damn ship that is trying to take you away, you will be glued to his side. A leash indeed.
You whimper as you try to sit up. Pain thrums in your entire body, radiating from an exceptionally tender spot on the inside of your wrist. It aches and burns. Throbbing like you have been severely injured. You try to blink the clouds in your vision as you try to move. Attempting to bring a hand to your opposite wrist, and nothing happens.
Panic hits you hard in the gut, and you yank and pull at your arm. No.
“Nonononononononono,” you whisper, looking above you. Finding your arm tied to Steve’s bedpost. Gulping, you sit up and look at your bandaged wrist. Brown blood seeps through, and you try to remember all that happened. You fell. Someone got you. Someone held you.
The smell. It’s a smell you can never forget. The arms clinging tight to your body, screaming at Steve. Laughing at — you. Hands were all over you. Gripping, grabbing, pinching, holding you down while you thrashed around. The smell of scorched skin invades your memory, and you gag. Something happened in this room, and it’s something you know you won’t like. And that something is causing your wrist to tremble.
“Steve! Captain Hydra!” Your pain has turned into fury. Tied up and injured when you were supposed to be dead. “Steven!”
Steve looks up at his room with an evil sneer. You’d finally decided to join the living. He stands beside Sam, practically giddy. You sound beyond pissed. Just the way he likes you. Full of grit and anger, and still having that side of submission. He’s no dummy, he sees the way your pulse quickens when he’s close. The vein on your neck thrums out a tune that goes right to his groin.
Your eyes dilate whenever he gets near you, and he smells the heat that grows in your belly. Bringing you alive, and you fight your attraction to him. All because you have a loyalty to a one armed chum. That’s if he’s still breathing. With any luck that man sunk to the bottom of the ocean. And if he’s alive, he’ll be so disappointed in the lady turned wench to a captain. Not just some filthy lying pirate, but a real captain.
Steve will have you ruined by the time Bucky ever sees you again. If he should have the air in his lungs to do so. He wipes at his beard before marching towards his living quarters.
“Careful. That one bites, Steve.”
“It’s what I’m counting out,” Steve chuckles before leaving Sam to man the ship. A steady man, better than most on his crew. He didn’t have the sadistic side that Steve does. The complete joy and arousal Steve feels at causing pain. His bloodlust is almost too strong for his own good. Except his crew revels in a fight. Which is why none of them hesitated to hold you down.
Steve flings the door open to his bedroom, and gazes at you, while your vision throws daggers at him. You’d righted yourself in the bed, just like he knew you could. And that bandage wrapped carefully around your wrist now is discarded on the floor. His mark of an octopus with a skull face looking a bit too crude in this stage of healing.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Claimed you.”
“You branded me. Like cattle.”
“Would you rather me have fucked you while you were unconscious?” You flinch back, staring at the man that boggles your mind. “I could have fucked you so hard, you’d still feel me in that tight little cunt. I could have claimed you by filling your belly full of my cum, and then I would just fuck you full of more, so I had mercy on you, Siren.”
“Mercy?” Your ragged skin did not look merciful. It looked infected. You could lose your hand because of this show of power, and he wouldn’t even care. “If I get gangrene from this and lose a hand, how will…” your words stop immediately, and you look away.
“You have another hand I can fuck. But I much prefer your holes,” you roll your eyes looking away. Feeling sorry for yourself has never been your style. You have to survive, or die trying. “That pretty cunny between your legs,” he inhales deeply, “I smell it from here. Or maybe your mouth. Have you drooling on my lap, and gagging on my cock.”
You gulp as you shift under your too thin nightgown. You see why you didn’t have anyone in here with you, it’s sheer. Leaving nothing to the imagination. It doesn’t hide the pebbling of your nipples. And if you were a betting woman, you would say that Steve could view your racing heart. It’s not just fear, it’s not only anger, there’s a tremor of longing for his callous power, and you hate yourself for it, “But you know what hole I really love?”
“My cunt?”
“Your ass,” you gasp, eyes going wide as you stare at him. Shaking your head no. “Why don’t you tell the heat rising up your neck, and to your cheeks you don’t want me to fuck your ass. Better yet, why don’t you tell your soaking wet pussy.”
“I’m not wet,” your voice is a soft whisper, and your eyes betray you by looking away. It’s one thing to lie to him, but you can’t lie to yourself. You feel the immense power exudes rush through your body, settling low in your belly. The heat blooms outward, creating a pool of slick in the very area you don’t want him to see. He can’t know this about you.
“Spread your legs, and show me then,” you shake your head no. Determining that you would just ignore Steve. “Hmm, I could force those legs apart. Have a taste myself.”
“You don’t taste pussy.”
“You’re right. I’ll drown in your pussy. Oh, look at those pretty nipples coming out to play. Go on, Siren. Show me your cunt that isn’t dripping on my bed,” you hold up your wrist. Exposing the charred skin. Skin that he took it upon himself to mar with his brand. “Oh, I should really clean that. That way you have both hands to hold onto my thighs while I bruise your throat.”
“You’re a pig.”
“I’m a fucking pirate, and now you’re mine. It says so on your skin,” he walks over to a chest, pulling out less than perfect means to clean your mark. Making his way to the bed, he pushes one leg of yours into the floor, leaving the other behind his body. Keeping you awkwardly spread around him, while he tends to the wound.
“I’m not yours.”
“We’ll see.”
“You could have given me more to wear than this.”
“And miss the chance to see you squirm, thinking I don’t feel the heat coming from between your thighs. You’re really cute, Siren. But I can promise you, I’m meaner than you are. I have been kind to you.”
“And how have you shown me kindness,” you yelp as Steve presses a clean rag too hard onto your wrist. “Bastard!”
“I’m not a fucking bastard, you wench. I took a kindness by putting my mark on your wrist. Typically it’s on your chest, but I truly didn’t want to see those perfect tits burned,” you suck a bottom lip into your mouth, and Steve watches the movement with bated breath. Returning to your wound. “Do you remember it?”
“Barely.”
“You had finally woken up from your topple into the water. The one I jumped in and saved you from. I gave you the kindness of rum. Let you pass out again before five of my men held you down while I seared your skin,” that’s why everything was a blur, you’d been drunk.
He wraps pieces of fabric around your wrist, tucking the end into itself before turning to you. His hand touches the stretched fabric of your nightgown, and starts to lift. An aching sob releases from your mouth, and he looks up at you. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to look.”
“Why?” You stare silently at him. Keeping his eyes on you, he lifts your gown, bunching it up, and lets it rest at your hip, but he still doesn’t look. You twitch on the bed nervously. Your body is on fire, and your skin prickles with his never blinking stare.
With a smile, Steve looks down to your spread core. Immediately he licks his lips. Here you are, sitting so pretty with his mark on the inside of your wrist, and your legs spread so far apart he watches your cunt shine with arousal. “This is why you didn’t want me to look.”
You try to push your legs together, but he puts a hand on each thigh, holding you apart, and pushing your legs further out. “Oh, you slutty thing, you’ve got your pretty tight little pussy leaking right onto my bed.”
He shifts his body, placing himself into the floor, and his head gets too close to your heat, “Steve, don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because, it’s wrong.”
“Like I care,” he exclaims before his head drops between your thighs. His nose strums up your weeping cunt, inhaling your scent as he does so. His tongue flattens, and he drags the muscle through your wetness, moaning at your taste. You’re drenched. You can deny it all you want, but you’re just as sick and twisted as him. For something to be so wrong, he’s got you so worked up and twisted that you're trembling.
He drags his tongue back down your seam, stiffening enough to breach your entrance. He pushes and pulls his tongue into you. In and out. In and out. Slurping up your juices from your messy cunt. You sink further into the bed, letting your back bow, and he chuckles against your core. “What?” you ask breathlessly.
“I thought this was wrong?” You look away from him, but of course, him and that mouth never know when to shut up. “It’s so wrong, and yet your body reacts so perfectly. You want more?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you never — came on Bucky’s tongue?” You turn to glare at him. Pursing your lips, and shaking your head no. “I guess you didn’t have time while you were being fucked in the alley. I’d much prefer you riding my face,” and just like he knew it would, your pulse quickens with his words. Beating so strongly on your neck that he wants to bite it.
“What does it taste like?”
“C’mere,” he says suggestively. You stare at him. Wondering if this was the best way to escape. To give into his debauchery. He wants you to go down to hell with him. You sit up calmly. “Come on,” leaning forward slowly, but Steve’s body juts forward. He crawls onto the bed, and has his legs in between your legs. Caging you with his strong arms. One hand slams on the headboard behind him, and the other lifts your head before he crashes his mouth into yours.
Your pupils turn into molten lava, and melt within your irises as you let Steve claim your mouth desperately. This isn’t sweet. This is feral. His tongue pushes into your mouth, and your sweet tangy essence coats your mouth. Your body molds with his, and you find yourself spreading further apart to accommodate his wide frame.
His hips roll into you, and his hardened cock runs over your bare, and soaked core. Over and over again. He moves his body frantically into you. Clothes keep him contained, but he moves like he’s fucking you. He moves like he hates you. Hard thrusts, and fingers that pull at your hair, then go to gripping your neck.
His movement causes the bed to bang up against the wall, and somehow your body morphs to him. Clinging to him, and wrapping your legs around him. With intentions to just feel him more. To feel his erected cock cause the most mind buzzing friction on your spread thighs.
He lets you come up for air, and you gasp at the ceiling, while he makes a mess of your neck. Nipping, biting, and suckling on your soft skin. Getting high off the salty taste of the sea on you. “Beg for it!”
“No,” you answer breathlessly. “I’ll never beg for you.”
“Fucking lying, bitch,” his movement stops, and you try to kill the whine that echoes off your body. “What was that, Siren? You begging?”
“Fuck you.”
“Nah, I won’t give you my cock until you beg me for it. I will deny you the satisfaction of finishing, but I sure as hell will make you wear my damn cum like a badge of honor,” he rips apart his pants, and pulls himself out. You don’t even care, you gawk at his silky steel rod as he fists himself. Pumping his thick girth over and over again, and he keeps you spread wide. Smiling down at your cunt, clenching around nothing,
You are a filthy little slut, and he can’t wait to paint your insides with his seed. But you will suffer. You will hate the day that you said you wouldn’t beg. He doesn’t ask but once. He pulls at himself with so much need, squeezing his cock so tight, he imagines that it’s yours. Pearls of precum shimmers at his tip.
If it wasn’t for your labored breathing, he would be pissed. But you want him just as much as he wants you. You’re a scared good girl who thinks she’s in love. You have always thought you were in love. Always promised yourself to one person, lying bitch. Your mouth lags open, and he lets himself spurt all up and down your front. Not missing the drop that gets too close to your mouth.
Your tongue slips out, and you moan at his taste. Filthy slut. His filthy slut. He’s got the time. Just a couple more weeks, and he’ll have you following him around like a bitch on a leash. Have you straddling his thigh at the council. And he’ll make sure everyone knows that every inch of your body, and every last one of your holes belong to him. And they always have.
“Oh, and, Siren?” You look up at him, chest heaving. You're angry, and he loves it. “Don’t touch yourself to make you come while I’m gone.”
“Touch myself?”
“Oh, you innocent thing,” with that, he leaves. No worries that you would ever deny him the sight of seeing you come. Sweet innocent thing indeed.
