hello!! may i please request a dark!stucky x little!reader where steve and bucky have been watching her for a little while struggle with normal life (working, paying bills, friends, etc) and decide to kidnap her to “help her”. she wakes up tucked into bed in an all pink cozy little girl room and they walk in and explain how she doesnt have to worry about anything at all except being a little girl. they act as if they are doing her a favor and she is like “ummmm i wanna leave? 😫😫✋” and they are not having it. steve being too sweet and comforting while bucky is silent and broding. ends in forced age regression and maybe punishment? i’d imagine her to be a fighter
thank you!!
Hi there! As I was writing this, I wondered if I made it too much. But then I keep remembering you said dark!Stucky sooooo, you got it :D
Also, if you are interested in this kind of story, I’d direct you to Caged in Comfort. But just like on here and there, be sure to read the disclaimers first!! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy. Happy reading!!!
Their Little Girl
Summary: You’re struggling to survive a harsh, lonely life until Steve and Bucky “rescue” you and bring you into a pink, controlled world where all your adult worries vanish even though you’re forced to become their powerless little girl. (Dark!Stucky x little!reader)
Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Forced Age Regression. Stalking. Dark!Bucky Barnes. Dark!Steve Rogers. Physical Punishment (Spanking). Kidnapping. You are responsible for the media you consume.
Word Count: 2.9k+
Main Masterlist
You didn’t realize anyone was watching you.
How could you? You were too busy just… surviving.
You dragged yourself from bed every morning to the shriek of your alarm, pulled on the same worn jeans that barely fit anymore, and shoved two slices of dry toast into your mouth on the way out the door. Work was always chaos with customers yelling, your manager hovering too close, and your name badge always falling off. Lunch breaks were a can of soup in the back room alone. You came home exhausted, head pounding, heart heavy, and eyes already burning with unshed tears.
Your apartment was quiet with peeling walls, broken blinds, and a fridge that whined louder than it cooled. You tried to keep it clean because it was the one thing you could control, but the growing stack of unopened bills on the kitchen counter mocked you every time you walked past them.
No one had noticed your slow unraveling. Not your coworkers, not the landlord, not even the people you used to call friends. You had gotten too quiet and withdrawn. You didn’t smile anymore. You just didn’t have the energy.
But they noticed.
Steve leaned back in the driver’s seat of the black SUV parked across the street, arms folded with his eyes fixed on your apartment window.
“She’s doing it again,” He muttered, voice tight.
Bucky leaned forward beside him, resting his metal hand on the dash. “Counting the envelopes. Same as last week.”
“She’s not eating enough.”
“Didn’t sleep last night either.”
They watched as your shadow moved behind the curtain, slow and slumped. Like someone walking through a dream they couldn’t wake from. You turned off a single lamp, then collapsed onto the couch in a silent heap.
Steve’s jaw clenched. “She’s barely hanging on.”
“She won’t ask for help.” Bucky said it like a fact, not a judgment. He understood what it was to keep your head down, to try and stay invisible in a world that demanded too much. But seeing it in you stirred something dark in his chest.
“She doesn’t have to ask,” Steve said. “We give it to her.”
Bucky glanced at him. “You sure she’s ready?”
Steve smiled, just faintly. “She doesn’t need to be. She just needs us.”
And so they watched. Every night and every morning. They learned your routine, what bus you took, where you bought groceries, and how you cried when you thought no one could hear.
They memorized the little things like the way your fingers twitched when you were anxious, the soft way you spoke to your kettle when it boiled like it was your only friend, and the sound of your laugh on the rare, rare days it slipped out like sunlight through a crack.
They listened, waited, and planned.
Because they knew what you needed. And you’d never be able to survive the real world on your own. Not like this, not with how fragile you were.
You needed to be taken care of. Watched over, looked after, and controlled.
You needed a softer world where you didn’t make decisions, didn’t pay bills, and didn’t break under pressure. You needed to be told when to nap, what to wear, and when to use your words.
And soon… You wouldn’t have to worry about anything again.
Your first sensation was warmth. A strange kind of heavy warmth like being wrapped in cotton candy. Your nose twitched. The air smelled like frosting and something vaguely floral.
You stirred as something soft crinkled beneath your head. The sheets were thick and soft as your fingers brushed over the comforter, silky and smooth, and definitely not your own.
Your eyes cracked open.
The ceiling above you was white and painted with stars. Glow-in-the-dark ones, stuck in little constellations.
And the walls… Your eyes widened.
Pink.
Every inch of the room was soft pink, creamy white, or pastel lavender. Plush animals lined the dresser. A white toy chest sat at the foot of the bed, painted with your name in curly bubble letters you did not recognize. The rocking chair in the corner was draped with a fuzzy throw blanket that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse.
You sat up fast, heart hammering in your chest.
The room was too quiet. There were no city sounds, no sirens, and no neighbors through the wall. Only the faint hum of ventilation. The kind that sounded… industrial.
“Where the hell–” Your voice caught in your throat. Your mouth was dry and your head throbbed.
You swung your legs out of bed. The floor was covered in a plush white rug. Even the pajamas on your body weren’t yours, it was a soft oversized nightshirt with a glittery cartoon bear on the front.
Your fingers trembled as you reached for the nightstand. No phone, no clock. Just a pacifier, a pink one, sitting there like it belonged to you.
You backed away fast toward the door.
It opened before you could reach it.
Steve stepped inside first. The Steve Rogers, Captain America. Bright-eyed and smiling with a soft grey henley shirt. He looked… friendly. He looked like he was about to read a bedtime story.
“Hi, sweetheart,” He greeted, voice warm. “You’re up early.”
You froze.
Then Bucky stepped in behind him, tall and quiet, dressed in black. His gaze swept over you like a stormcloud, unreadable and intense. His arms stayed loose at his sides, one hand twitching slightly in that way you’d come to associate with danger.
You took a step back. “What… what is this?”
“You were so tired,” Steve said gently, stepping forward. “We figured it was best to let you rest. Your body’s been under so much stress.”
“Where am I?”
“Home,” Bucky answered. His voice was deeper than you remembered. Rough, quiet, but certain.
“This isn’t my– this isn’t–“ You choked on the sentence.
Steve reached out a hand like he was offering you a hug. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. We’ve taken care of everything. Bills, job, apartment: gone.”
Your stomach lurched. “What?”
“You don’t have to be an adult now,” He explained with a soft smile. “You can just be our little girl. We’ll take care of you. All you have to do is be sweet.”
You blinked, staring. “You kidnapped me.”
Bucky’s eyes flicked away for the briefest second. Steve tilted his head. “We rescued you.”
You shook your head, backing up further until your feet hit the edge of the bed. “This is insane. This is– I want to leave. You can’t do this.”
Bucky’s expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his shoulders straightened.
“Not happening,” He stated flatly.
Steve sighed softly, like you were being difficult on purpose. “You’re overwhelmed and that’s okay. Most littles are, at first.”
“I’m not a little,” You snapped. “I’m a grown adult and I want to go home.”
Steve moved slowly in front of you. His smile was still there, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, sweetheart,” He said quietly. “We’ve seen how you struggle. You were falling apart.”
“I was managing!”
“Barely,” Bucky muttered.
“You cried every night,” Steve added, more gently now. “You were collapsing. No friends, no one checking in. You were going to slip right through the cracks until we stepped in.”
You shook your head over and over. “This is wrong. You don’t get to decide this. I didn’t ask for this!”
Steve smoothed your hair with one hand. “You didn’t have to. We know what’s best for you.”
You slapped his hand away.
He didn’t react, but when Bucky stepped forward, you flinched. His eyes locked with yours, hard and icy.
“Don’t do that again.”
You flinched, but you didn’t back down. Something burned in your chest: hot, angry, and terrified. You weren’t going to sit here and nod like a good little puppet while they rewrote your life into some pink, padded fantasy.
So you moved, fast.
Before either of them could stop you, you bolted toward the open door, ducking under Steve’s arm and slipping right past him. Your bare feet slapped the cold floor as you sprinted down the hall, your breath ragged and chest heaving. You didn’t know where you were going and you didn’t care. All you knew was you had to get out.
“HEY!”
Steve’s voice thundered behind you, but you didn’t look back.
Your fingers grazed a doorknob, locked. Another one, locked. You turned a corner blindly, heart slamming in your ears, and spotted a staircase. You surged toward it–
And slammed into something, or more so someone.
Bucky.
He caught you effortlessly, arms snapping around your middle like a vice. You kicked, screamed, shoved, and clawed at his chest but it didn’t matter. He lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing.
“Let go of me–!” You screamed, your nails digging into his skin. “LET ME GO!”
“Bad choice,” Bucky growled.
His voice was low, and there was no softness left in it. No calm or compromise. Just disappointment wrapped in steel.
He turned sharply on his heel and carried you back down the hall as you thrashed like a wild animal. Your fists pounded against his chest, tears blurring your vision.
Steve stood in the hallway doorway with his arms crossed, disappointment plain on his face. “You really thought you could just run?”
“GET AWAY FROM ME–!”
Bucky stepped into the pink bedroom again and kicked the door shut behind him. It locked with a heavy click.
You squirmed harder, but he sat on the bed and hauled you over his lap before you could process what was happening.
“Wait–no, no, don’t you DARE–”
SMACK.
The sound cracked through the room. Your whole body jolted.
SMACK.
Your breath left you in a choked gasp as the sting bloomed sharp and hot across your bottom.
“I warned you,” Bucky muttered, arm steady as stone as he landed another swat.
SMACK.
“You don’t run,” Steve said from across the room. “You don’t hit, you don’t scream.”
“Go to hell–“ You spat, voice cracking.
SMACK.
Bucky’s grip tightened. “You’re gonna learn fast, doll. Actions have consequences.”
You kicked your legs, humiliated, furious, and sobbing now as the punishment continued. Not hard enough to injure, but firm, controlled, and designed to break down your fight.
When it was over, you were trembling and panting. Your face buried in the blankets, eyes hot with tears.
Bucky lifted you gently, repositioning you in his lap so you were facing him and held you in his arms like a child, body limp from exhaustion and fury.
You turned your face away, still refusing to give in.
But Steve approached and crouched beside you, voice maddeningly soft. “Shhh, sweetheart. It's okay now. It’s over. That was the last time you’ll ever have to feel that scared. All you have to do now… is listen and behave. Be our good girl.”
Your lip quivered, but you bit it hard. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
But Bucky’s hand was rubbing slow circles into your back now, murmuring low words you couldn’t understand. Not because they were mumbled, but because your head was fogging. Your fight was bleeding out of you.
“We’re gonna take such good care of you,” He murmured. “Whether you like it or not.”
And in your haze of confusion and fury and fear… That terrifying truth sank in.
They weren’t going to let you go. They were going to keep you.
You didn’t know how long you sat there curled in Bucky’s lap, stiff and trembling, your cheek pressed to the worn fabric of his t-shirt. His hand never stopped moving on your back, slow and rhythmic like you were some frightened animal he was trying to soothe.
You hated it. You hated how warm he was. You hated how safe it felt, even now. You hated that your eyes were still wet.
The punishment had left your skin burning, but it wasn’t the pain that rattled you. It was the helplessness. The dizzy, sinking realization that you couldn’t fight them. That they were bigger, stronger, and smarter.
You hated them. And a small, whispering part of you hated yourself for wanting to cry in someone’s arms.
Steve came back into the room with a pink plastic tray. You flinched at the sight of it. There were two bottles, a tiny bowl of applesauce, and a spoon with a bunny on the handle.
“No,” You said instantly, your voice was hoarse. “No. I’m not doing that.”
Steve set the tray down on the bed, completely unfazed. “Sweetheart, your tummy’s empty. You didn’t eat dinner last night, and it’s well past lunch. You need something gentle.”
“I’m not a toddler,” You snapped. “I’m not hungry. I’m not doing this.”
Steve just smiled softly, like he already knew you’d say that. “You don’t have to be hungry to eat, little one. We’re going to take care of you now. That includes making sure you eat right, nap, play, and dress properly.”
“I won’t.”
Bucky’s arms shifted slightly around you, still holding you tight. You could feel his breath slow against your back, that low patience of his barely twitching under the surface.
“You said that before,” Bucky murmured, almost absently. “Still ended up over my knee, didn’t you?”
You glared at him with everything you had left. But your muscles ached and your throat was tight. You wanted to scream, to fight, to hit someone, but you were tired.
And that… that scared you more than anything.
“Here,” Steve said gently, lifting the spoon with the bunny handle. He scooped a bit of applesauce and held it up. “Just a few bites. Then we’ll change you into something comfier and let you rest. You’ve had a big morning.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” You snapped, but it came out smaller than you meant.
Steve tilted his head. “Like what?”
“Like I’m… like I’m…” You couldn’t finish it.
“Like you’re precious?” He offered. “Like you’re tired and overwhelmed, and just need two people who love you more than anything to make the big world go away?”
You looked away as your jaw clenched. Your stomach rumbled in betrayal.
Bucky’s grip around you tightened slightly as a warning. “Last time we’ll ask,” He said. “Open your mouth.”
You sat still and tense. Then, after too long… you did.
Just a little, just barely, but Steve smiled like you’d just handed him your heart. He fed you a tiny bite, and you hated the way it made you tear up again.
It was applesauce. It wasn’t even good. You weren’t giving in. You weren’t.
Bucky shifted you slightly, holding you closer, like the fight leaking out of you was some kind of affection. You could feel the heat in your face as another bite was lifted to your lips.
“I hate you,” You whispered.
Steve didn’t flinch. “I know. That’s okay. You won’t forever.”
You let the next bite in. Then the next. Until the bowl was empty and one of the bottles was pressed into your hand. You didn’t want to drink it, but you did. Small sips, just to have something.
Afterward, Bucky stood and carried you again. You didn’t fight him this time. He sat you on the bed and handed Steve a stack of clothes from the dresser.
Soft, ruffled, and pastel.
You shook your head before he could even speak. “No. I can feed myself. I can dress myself.”
Steve just gave you that same quiet, sweet smile. “Not anymore.”
When they were done dressing you, you were shaking, burning, and mortified. You’d been clothed like a doll.
Bucky lifted you again, this time bridal style, and laid you gently in the bed.
“I’m not tired,” You croaked. “I’m not napping.”
“You’re exhausted,” Steve murmured, tucking the blanket around you. “Your body’s been running on panic and caffeine for weeks. This is just what you need.”
“I don’t want it.”
“But you need it.”
They were both still for a moment, then Steve moved toward the headboard. You heard the soft click of something being unlatched.
Your blood ran cold. “What are you doing?”
Bucky didn’t answer. He simply lifted your right wrist and guided it gently into the padded cuff Steve had pulled from the side rail. It locked with a faint snap.
You screamed again, kicked at the blanket and immediately felt the other cuff lock around your ankle.
“No– no, no, please–”
“It’s just for safety,” Steve said calmly, brushing your hair back as he fastened the last restraint. “So you don’t hurt yourself. It’s just to help you stay still so you get the rest your little body needs.”
You couldn’t breathe as you yanked at the cuffs. They were padded but firm, tight enough to keep you in place without hurting you.
“Please don’t do this,” You whispered. “I don’t want this. Please–”
Steve kissed your forehead. “One day, you’ll thank us.”
Bucky stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Silent, watching, and guarding.
The soft hum of a white noise machine filled the air. The nightlight glowed pink. The ceiling sparkled with tiny plastic stars.
And you…
You lay there trapped and shaking, crying softly.
The last thing you saw before your eyes gave out was Steve adjusting the monitor in the corner of the room, a baby monitor, so they could watch you from anywhere.
“You’re safe now,” He whispered. “You’re home.”
