He's not stalking you, he's looking after you, baby
Oh, is he?
Follow You Home
Pairing: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Florist!Female Reader
Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop.
Word Count: Over 1.9k
Warnings: (S)talking, (c)reepy behavior, talk of (v)iolence and (d)eath, (s)exual thoughts, delusion, obsession, homeboy has issues (still love him), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future fics for this AU will venture into (d)arker territory.
Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @rookthorne.
A/N: For @springdandelixn's Double-Trouble Sleepover (featuring flowers) and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mini March Challenge ((s)talking, ribbon, plaid shirt). ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
A sense of serenity and calm washed over Bucky Barnes as he walked into the flower shop. The fragrance and colors almost overwhelmed him the first time he went in, but he learned to adjust. One of the only blessings of the trauma he experienced is that he could be extremely adaptable when the occasion called for it. Now he craved the sweet scent that surrounded him.
The way he craved you.
“Hi, Bucky,” you called from behind the counter. “Right on time.”
Like when he saw you the first time, he stared at you for far too long. He was still too intrigued to care if you caught him. Unlike most people around him, you never cowered under his gaze. You always greeted him with a smile which was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
Even if your smile didn’t reach your eyes today.
Still beautiful. Still mine.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a quick look around as he made his way to the counter where his flowers were waiting. “I brought you something.”
“Let me guess?” you asked, your smile still not as bright as normal. “A candy bar because I’m so sweet?”
Sweet enough to melt on my tongue.
“What gave it away?” he asked, handing it over with a small smile of his own. He could have set it on the counter, but he liked having an excuse for his fingers to brush against yours. “One day I might switch it up on you.”
“No, this is nice,” you said, sniffling. “Thank you.”
I’m reliable. Dependable.
Predictability had a way of putting some at ease. It communicated stability, safety, and security. He made sure you knew exactly what time he’d be at the shop and on which day. He always purchased the same flowers. Always brought the same wrapped candy after you commented one day that you craved it.
You'll crave me the way I crave you.
“Beautiful,” he said as he inspected the small bouquet and took a moment to steal a glance at you. Not that he needed to look over the arrangement. They were perfect every time, right down to the perfect ribbon bow to hold them together. “Mrs. Bradshaw will love them.”
Every week he bought a small bouquet of tulips for his elderly neighbor. She didn’t have many people to look out for her, so he checked in whenever he could. In some ways, she reminded him of Rebecca. Or at least what he thought Rebecca would be like if he got to see her grow up. Maybe it was why he felt the need to protect her.
He felt the need to protect you, too.
Just not from myself.
“It’s nice that you do that,” you said, ringing them up with another quiet sniffle.
“I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?” he asked, putting the change in the small bowl by the register.
“Just not a great day,” you tried to brush off.
“Bad customer? I don’t mind taking care of them. Just tell me who,” he offered.
A man screamed at you weeks ago over the cost of flowers for his wedding. You explained that he was receiving a discount and the price was agreed upon, but it wasn’t good enough for the jerk. You threw him out after he shattered one of your vases.
Bucky shattered one of his knees.
I’m not a bad man.
“No, it wasn’t a bad customer,” you said, your eyes misty as you reached for the candy bar and changed your mind.
"You can talk to me," he urged, placing his hand on yours long enough to provide comfort without being uncomfortable. "I'm your friend, right?"
I'm actually more than that.
"Yeah," you nodded, taking a deep breayhy. “You know my boyfriend?”
Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment. When his slight obsession with you began, he found out everything he could. While it didn't surprise him that you had a boyfriend, it disappointed him. Especially when he discovered that he was a decent man. Always friendly when he visited the shop. Even kept your place nice and tidy when he stopped by.
It was a feat Bucky didn't break every single one of his fingers for touching you.
“Yeah, I know of him.”
“He dumped me. Through a text,” you said as more tears welled up. “Just said we were through. No explanation. When I tried to call him, he blocked me."
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy as he grabbed a pack of tissues from his jacket pocket.
"My stuff was in a box this morning, waiting in front of my door," you went on. "I thought things were going great between us. Not too fast or too slow, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe he was seeing someone else."
"If he was, he's an idiot,” he said, itching to walk around the counter to hug you. It broke his heart to see you upset. “They can't see someone as perfect as you when they have you right in front of them.”
“I’m not perfect,” you argued, dabbing your eyes with the tissue. “Look at me. I’m crying in the middle of the shop.”
“You’re perfect to me,” he said.
In every way.
"Thanks, Bucky. You've always been very kind."
“It’s the other way around,” he said, clearing his throat. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”
Because of Bucky’s past, he did his best to blend in most days. As a man forced to do bad things against his will, the truth behind his actions didn’t matter to some. They had their minds made up about him and would never trust him because of what he did.
Do people feel better by making me a villain?
But one day, while he was out trying to make amends, he spotted you helping a homeless man on the sidewalk. He had seen him before. Most passed him without a second glance, but you crouched down and checked on him. You even gave him a bit of food you had on you and some money.
“I wish I could give you more, but that’s all I have,” you said.
The man nearly cried with gratitude. No one else cared, but you did. That was when you spotted Bucky looking your way. He could avoid being seen if he wished, but part of him wanted you to notice him. If you recognized him, in a good or bad way, you didn’t show it. You merely smiled, gave him a friendly nod, and walked on.
As if you hadn’t changed his life.
Bucky didn’t mean to follow you at first, but he had to make sure you got to wherever you were going safely. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Besides, a gaze between the two of you wasn't enough to leave him satisfied. Once he squashed his curiosity and made sure you were okay, he thought he’d leave you be.
He was wrong.
The second he walked into the shop and saw you again, he knew you had to be his.
“You’re caring and strong. You deserve kindness and respect,” he told you, wondering if the depths of his feelings showed in his eyes. “Someone who will love and cherish you for who you are.”
“I might cry again,” you smiled.
It reached your eyes this time.
“I’m just glad you’re smiling again,” he said. It would be beautiful to wake up to it each day. He was going to make that happen.
“Is it okay if I ask for a hug?”
“Sure,” he said, opening his arms.
You moved around the counter and leaned into him with a sigh. He smiled as he held you, feeling a warmth inside of him that he hadn’t felt since before he met you. He imagined many times how he’d make you shiver with need once he had his hands on you and it took strength not to stretch you out on the counter.
Just like it took him strength not to touch you in your home.
Watching wasn’t enough. It never was. He’d have you in his bed soon.
Where you belong.
“It’s probably for the best. I think he was stealing some of my panties,” you said against his shoulder before you gasped. “Oh, my god! I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m so sorry.”
Bucky loved the feel of your satin underwear around his cock. It was easy to imagine how wet they’d be against your pussy as he teased you. Not that you’d wear underwear much once he had you. Maybe he’d keep you in one of his Henley’s. Or a plaid shirt so he could rip it open. Or little sundresses so he could push them up around your hips.
So many options.
“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled when you kept your face hidden. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me.”
As you should be.
“Thank you, Bucky,,” you said, lifting your head and gazing at him. "You're a good guy."
"I'm trying to be," he whispered, holding you a bit tighter before he let you go.
If anything, he'd be good to you.
"Here," you said as you pulled away and grabbed the largest red rose in the shop. “You should find someone special to give this to. I think they’d be very lucky.”
“Yeah, I think I will,” he said as a couple walked through the door. “I should let you help them. Is it okay if I see you tomorrow? Just in case you need a friend."
"I'd like that," you smiled.
"I'll see you later then," he smiled back.
“Bye. Thanks again."
Bucky left the rose next to the candy bar when you weren't looking and walked out the door with his tulips in hand. He’d have to explain to Mrs. Bradshaw that he’d be moving shortly. His new home was ready. A place outside of the city. Quiet. Secluded.
Perfect for the two of you.
Bucky was going to take great pleasure in the two of you christening every room of the place. He'd even fill the rooms with roses and other flowers to show how special you are. You deserved beauty in your home.
He frowned when he suddenly thought of your tears. Your now ex-boyfriend hadn't seen him coming. As much as part of him hated that he ever touched you, had been inside you, he didn't want to cause an innocent man pain. Not when his only crime was that he wanted you.
I just wanted you more.
He almost felt guilty for sending the text and blocking your number. He felt even worse when he remembered how the light left his eyes. That feeling went away when he boxed up your things. It had to be done.
No one would find the body.
Maybe I am a villain, but I'll be your hero, too.
Once Bucky saw you home safely tonight, he’d wait until after midnight to make his move. He did say he'd see you tomorrow. He’d show you how easy it is to break into your place undetected and bring you to your new home. A place where he could keep you safe from a world that didn’t deserve your kindness.
He didn’t have a choice or control over his life in years past, but he did now. He chose to take back control. To begin again.
Starting with you.
And who better to love and protect you than the former Winter Soldier?
You'll love your new home, right? Bucky thinks so. Love and thanks for reading! 💙
AN: this was written for Roo’s Mini March Madness and my prompts were Shoelaces, plaid shirt and panties in the mouth. I hope this tickles your fancy @darkficsyouneveraskedfor
Beta’d by Tits McGee herself, @yarnforbrains
Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard/banner by me
Master list
Relationship: Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
CW: THIS IS A DARK FIC! Non-Con, Steve is a ‘nice guy’, Manipulation, Invasion of privacy, Kidnap, Knocking out (through removal of air flow), Forced Orgasm, Somnophilia, Bondage, ‘Basement Wifing’, Delusion.
With your eyes closed and your arms outstretched, you took a deep breath and took in the fresh air, feeling the warm sun on your skin. This was the new start that you needed.
When the way that you worked changed due to the pandemic, you took the opportunity to make the most of remote working and gave up the parts of the corporate rat-race you hated. You sold your soul-less apartment in the city and moved up-state to the rolling hills and tall mountains, where you could reconnect with nature and heal your inner self.
Years of stress, compounded by bad relationship after bad relationship had left you hankering for solitude. You still had some parts of your job that had to be done in person, but travelling back to the city for two nights a month didn’t seem so bad when the rest of the time you would be here, in your simple woodland sanctuary.
This move hadn’t been done totally on a whim; you’d done research into where you could be that was out of the way enough, but wouldn’t leave you struggling with all the chores needed. In the end you’d managed to find a place that had an electricity supply for lights and an internet connection, so you wouldn’t have to worry about a generator, but still required a wood burner for heating and hot water. That you could manage. Your mail would go to a PO box at the general store in the local town, and you planned to go once a week to stock up on the basics.
You’d arrived yesterday and spent most of the time since your arrival unpacking and sorting. But this morning when you’d awoken, the sun coming in through the curtains had been so inviting there was no way you could immediately resume your inside tasks without doing a little exploring and getting that peace that you’d moved here for.
You did have a vague idea of what the local area was like - you’d researched that as well, but you hadn’t had the chance to explore on foot before your arrival. You knew that in addition to the rough road that led to town, there was a small path, worn by pairs of feet over the years, to the neighbouring property that sat about 2 miles away. You supposed now was as good a time as any other to introduce yourself to your new neighbour - it would be a blessing if you could be on good terms with them.
You made your way along the narrow track, enjoying the way the trees formed a canopy, letting dappled light through. The area was teeming with life, and you saw more flowers in 100 yards than you ever saw from the window of your old apartment. In the distance, you saw a few deer, and you stilled and held your breath as they lifted their heads, scented you on the air, and then disappeared further into the trees. Then, on top of that were all the birds. You had no interest in ornithology, but even your untrained eyes and ears could pick out half a dozen different species. All in all, the walk was exactly what you’d hoped it would be - a soul soothing experience. Hopefully, if all went well with your neighbour and you made a new friend, it would be one you’d repeat regularly.
The path in front of you widened and the trees thinned, and between them you could see another cabin, similar to your own. As you approached, you could hear a rhythmic noise, and it took you a moment to realise it was the sound of wood being competently split with an axe. You blinked as you came out of the shade, using your hand to shield your eyes, and you followed the sound around the side of the cabin, ready to meet your neighbour.
You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting, but the apparent ‘Greek God come to life’, there in front of you, was not it. He was tall - well over 6 foot - with broad shoulders straining the seams of his plaid shirt, a narrow waist and a denim-clad ass that looked like you could easily bounce a dime off it. You stepped on a small branch that cracked under your foot and he spun round, as if anticipating trouble. You were mesmerised though. His hair, both on his head and in his beard, glowed golden in the sunlight. His blue eyes, as deep and dangerous as the ocean, held yours captive, even as they narrowed. Your body thrummed with desire, a feeling that was almost alien to you. And there was just something about him that struck you as… familiar?
“Who are you?” His voice was gruff, like he hadn’t used it in a while, although you supposed if he lived here alone and had no-one to talk to regularly, that was highly likely. You swallowed and plastered a smile onto your face, forcing your strange reaction down. You held out your hand.
“Umm, hi! I’m your new neighbour. Just moved into the cabin at the other end of the trail.” You managed to give him your name as you trailed off. You were worried for a second at his unwelcoming expression and the way he was still holding his axe, but then his lips twitched, and he swung the axe down into the chopping block. With one stride, he was suddenly closer, enclosing your hand in his much larger one.
“Nice to meet you, neighbour. I’m Steve. And welcome to the neighbourhood.” He chuckled at his little joke, and it put you at ease. “What brings you to this little slice of paradise?” He released your hand, and you found that you missed the warmth of his.
“Looking for a quieter life, really. I don’t need to be in an office all the time to do my job, so I thought I might as well pack up, move out, and lead a simpler life.”
He looked at you, eyes searching as though trying to work out what to make of you.
“‘I’? Not ‘we’?”
You looked down at your feet, feeling small under his gaze, and started to pick at your nails.
“Definitely ‘I’. I’m hoping some time out here - to myself - will make me better at identifying red flags.”
Steve snorted.
“Well, all the green out here should help. What have you got planned for the rest of your day?”
His friendly attitude had you looking back up at him.
“A bit more unpacking, a bit of wood chopping for the stove, and then a run into town to sort out my PO Box and get some groceries. It’s probably going to be a bit of a rush after taking time out for a walk and coming to meet you, but I just needed to connect with nature, you know?”
“I understand perfectly, doll. ‘S why I’m out here too. Had to get away from it all and spend some time by myself. Still do a bit of consulting, every now and again, but I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to work regularly any more. Oh, and don’t worry about wood chopping - I’ve got more than enough here - I tend to go a little overboard, get lost in the repetitive action. How about I drive some round to you in a bit, and then I can give you a lift down into town? I gotta go anyway, and it seems silly for us to both use up fuel.”
You started a little at the suggestion. It felt wrong to accept the help from him, having only been acquainted for less than half an hour, as well as the ‘stranger danger’ aspect. But… it would make your life easier, and you weren’t getting any ‘weird’ vibes from him since his initial confrontational facade had worn off.
“If you’re sure you really don’t mind?”
He smiled down at you and it lit up his face.
“Would I offer if I minded? And besides, it’s the neighbourly thing to do. Shall I come round about midday? We can head on down and then I can show you the best place to eat in town. Sound good?”
You nodded in agreement. “Sounds good, Steve.”
It was the beginning of your friendship. Steve kept you supplied with chopped wood and drove you both down to town once a week, and in return you walked over to his cabin every couple of days, bringing him pies and cookies and your conversation. When you were in town, you started shopping for groceries, and Steve would collect both your and his mail, and you’d meet up at the dinner. It was nice and uncomplicated, and you were happy to have a male friend that didn’t set your alarm bells ringing.
3 months later
“Steve?”
It was Thursday morning, one of your regular days for coming over to see your neighbour. You’d felt a bit like ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ this morning as you’d placed the apple pie in your old style basket so you could carry it over to Steve’s cabin without damaging it.
You were hoping that he was in a better mood today. It was clear to you that something had been bothering him the last couple of weeks. He seemed to be more worried about your safety, trying to get you to stay longer and offering to come over and check on you more often. You weren’t sure what had started his paranoia. Maybe you could drag it out of him today over a slice of pie?
However, when you arrived in the clearing and made your way around the side of his house, he wasn’t there chopping wood like he normally was. His truck was still out front though, so maybe he was inside. You trotted back around, climbing up the veranda steps to rap on the door.
“Hello! Steve?” The door was slightly ajar, and you called through the gap.
“I’m in here, honey!”
Honey? Why was Steve calling you that? Odd.
You pushed the door open and walked in. Steve was standing in the corner by his stove, a cast iron skillet resting on the top, with something sizzling within it. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and turned towards you, a wide smile on his face. You smiled in return, glad to see he was in a better mood today.
“What have you brought me, doll? You know your baking is the highlight of my week.”
You waved your hand at him in a shoo-ing gesture, feeling heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks.
“Steve! Don’t embarrass me. And if my cooking is the highlight of your week, then you need to get out more.”
He cocked his head to the side, eyes sparkling.
“But I don’t wanna get out more. Sorta the point of living all the way up here, just like you.”
He had a point
“Touche.”
You breezed past him, your cotton dress swishing around your knees, as you made your way to his kitchen counter, placing your basket upon it and lifting out the pie. Steve came up behind you and peered over your shoulder. Part of your brain was disturbed by how close he was to you, but the other part reassured you that it was just Steve. He was so big that he felt close, no matter where he was in the room in relation to you.
“Oooh, apple! How’d you know it was my favorite, doll?”
You turned your head over your shoulder to look up at him. He really was a handsome man, and if you weren’t set on your path of self improvement and being man-free, you could easily do something stupid, but you didn’t want to lose his friendship.
“Who doesn’t like apple pie?”
He chuckled.
“You won that point, sweetheart. Will you stay for lunch? I’m cooking steak.”
You were sorely tempted. It did smell delicious, and all you had planned for you back at your cabin was grilled cheese and some soup. As you contemplated you nibbled your lower lip.
“I really shouldn’t. I’ve got some work to do, and I don’t want to impose.”
“Don’t be silly, honey. You fit right in, in here. Makes it feel more homely when you’re around. But how come you’ve still got work?”
“You know, cos I work.”
His brow furrowed.
“No, you don’t.”
What?
“Umm, yes I do.”
“You are silly, doll. You did work, but you resigned, remember?”
You spun around to face him and found yourself trapped between his large frame and the counter, his arms barricading you in. A prickle of unease made its way up your spine.
“No I didn’t. I think I’d remember if I resigned from the job I love.”
“But you love me more than that silly job though, don’t you, honey? You resigned so you could be with me. Live here and keep me company and have our babies.” He smiled at you. A smile you didn’t recognise on his face. Ducking under his arm you stomped across the room.
“I don’t know what type of joke you’re trying to make, Steve, but it’s not funny.
You started to make your way towards the door, but found yourself pulled to a stop by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. In other circumstances this would be wonderful, but with the way Steve was acting and things he was saying, you were entirely freaked out.
“Steve! Let me go! I’m not in the mood. I want to go home and I’ll speak to you later when you can be nice.”
You repressed a shiver as his face came down to your neck, his nose sliding up it, followed by his beard, that rasped and tickled over your sensitive skin.
“I am being nice, honey. And you don’t need to go anywhere. You are home.”
You tried to break out of his hold, but his arms were like steel bands around your frame.
“Steve! It’s not funny any more. I have work to do.”
He growled low in his throat, and you froze.
“I told you, you don’t have work any more. You might not have sent the letter, but I knew you wanted to be here with me. It was easy to get their address from your payslip when I picked up your mail. Told them you didn’t want to be contacted, and they just had to accept it.”
As his words settled in your brain, your struggles began anew, and with more vigour. Steve wasn’t just being strange, he was downright deluded! You kicked at his shins and tried to wriggle out of his grip, chanting “Let me go! Let me go!” But all Steve did was shush you, like you were a toddler having a tantrum.
“Shh, shh, honey. Don’t be like this. You accused me of not being nice, but what is this, huh?”
One of his large hands came up over your mouth, and he pinched your nose between his finger and thumb. Your eyes went wide with panic as your head started to swim.
“Calm down, doll. Take it easy. That’s it. That’s it. Sleep now.”
Your vision went spotty as your heels kicked ineffectually against him, your lungs burning as you started to run out of air. Then it all went dark.
Your body trembled, waves of pleasure running through you, despite the uncomfortable ache in your shoulders and arms. The ecstasy continued, and you whined, not knowing if you wanted it to stop or continue. It had been so long since you’d felt it and…
Your memory returned like a flood. Your eyes shot open to see Steve’s blue eyes looking up at you from between your legs, where he was feasting on your cunt, bringing you to your peak even as you lay unconscious. Those pools of ocean blue danced when he saw your awareness come back in, and he sucked harder, tipping your traitorous body back over the edge, moans leaving your mouth against your will.
As you came back down from your orgasm,and gained more control over yourself, you tried to shift, moving your legs up the bed and away from him, but a sudden twist caused pain to arch down your arm. That’s when you realised that both your upper limbs were bound above your head. You drew your gaze away from a grinning Steve - a Steve whose beard was soaked from your release - to peer up at how you were tied.
Shoelaces. Tied around your wrist, loose enough that they wouldn’t cut off your blood supply, but tight enough that you couldn’t slide your hand out unless you managed to dislocate both your thumbs.
Steve crawled up the bed slowly, but you couldn’t get away. He cupped your face and kissed you, your own scent filling your nose as he forced your mouth open and invaded you with his tongue. The denim of his jeans scraped your thighs, thighs that were sensitive and raw from the burn of his beard as he’d violated you.
“Hey, welcome back, honey. Sorry I started without you, but you looked so sweet, I couldn’t help myself. Been waiting a long time, ever since Wilson and Barnes told me that a beautiful young thing was interested in the property.”
Wilson and Barnes? That was the name of the realtor company that had brokered the sale of your cabin to you. How did Steve know them?
“My old friends knew exactly what I needed in my retirement. I spent so long saving the world - it owed me. And look… it gave me you, honey. And we’re going to be so happy. I know it. You just gotta let yourself get used to it.”
He was mad. Saving the world? What on earth did he mean?
“And when you’re ready, you can be Mrs. Rogers. Would you like that, sweetheart? How many ladies get the opportunity to get married to one Captain America, while another and the Winter Soldier act as witnesses.”
Rogers? How had you gone these last months without finding out his last name? Everything slotted together like a frightening puzzle in your mind. Why you’d felt so at ease with Steve when you’d first met him, why he seemed familiar despite having never met him. It was the beard - it had been enough to stop you instantly recognising America’s Golden Boy, thought dead after the final battle against Thanos. And Sam Wilson, the new Captain America had sanctioned - had assisted! - in this kidnapping, as a favour to his old comrade.
You heard the metal sound of Steve’s jeans zipper and it triggered your fight instinct.
“No! No! Get off! I don’t want this. I don’t want this!” You bucked your hips but only succeeded in rubbing your bare mound over Steve’s bulge, encased solely by his briefs.
Steve looked down at you with condescension.
“Honey, you’re too shocked by all this to know what you want, and I think you need to stop talking before you say something you’ll regret. Let me help you with that.”
He reached to the side, to a scrap of fabric lying near your feet. He enclosed it in his large hand and brought it up to his face, eyes closing as he took a long, indrawn breath through his nose. Part of the cloth poked out from between his fingers and you recognised it as your panties.
“Fuck! Now that you’re here I can smell this delicious scent whenever I want…” He opened his eyes and looked back down at you. “...and taste it too. But right now, I need you to understand that we belong together.”
With his free hand he squeezed your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, and even as you glared at him he pushed your panties into your mouth, then stroked the side of your face with the back of his knuckles
“There. You look so pretty, honey. Hope you’re ready? You’re gonna enjoy this - I know I will.”
You knew you should still be struggling, but as he pushed his jeans off and followed it quickly with his plaid shirt, part of you knew there was no point. He was too big. Too strong. Too determined. Any resistance would probably end up with you being hurt even more.
As Steve pulled down his briefs you turned your head away, a tear rolling down your cheek. It appeared that despite your best intentions, you’d been colour blind - mistaking the red flags for green.
Hi 👋. So, I've decided to write something for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor mini writing challenge. The prompts I've used are
Shovel
Wooly Sweater
Warnings - Minors DNI, Smut, Masturbation (Male and Female), Voyeurism (Without Consent), Stalking, Overall Dark Themes.
Overall just a small drabble about a dark!CaptainAmerica fiction obsessed with the OC.
Enjoy, and please feel free to comment and reply if you want to. It is much appreciated.
Mine to love, Mine to break.
He was running out of time.
Sweat beaded upon the peripheries of his blond locks as his muscles threatened to seize under the sheer pressure of it all. He utilized the primitive shovel betwixt his clenched fist to tear the frozen earth away from its resting place. Personifying the very essence of his being as that of a desecrator; one who stares into silence and screams into its boundless void in a futile endeavor to dilute its potency.
Yet, at this very moment, power was simply a fleeting glimpse of all he lacked. Despising it with every core of his being as he pummelled into the ground with the righteous fervor of a man made of nothing: a facade.
Continuously wrenching the rusted steel through the dirt until it bowed to his force and contributed to the cacophony of rings, screams, and addled breaths that danced around his tumultuous mind. As if they were taunting him, and a man of his stature would not stand to be mocked nor disparaged.
What a paradoxical sight.
The idealistic symbol of America besmeared in soil and a substance so much more viscous and damning. Whilst the serum running through his veins is rendered impotent in the face of his desperation.
The darkness elucidated the hollow delirium that had consumed him whole.
A few weeks prior.
The wind nipped at her skin through the gaps of her woolen sweater as she ambled through the barrage of rain that seemed to be purposely attacking her with all of its might.
Bright, almost jarring against the dull grey of the pavement beneath her hurried step. Violaceous purples and sunny yellows remained incongruous against her forlorn expression. Thread-bear jeans, which were a tad too short for her taller figure allowed the puddles to splash against her ankles and seep into her dilapidated black pumps: soaking her feet and exacerbating her misery.
Years of toiling over her work merely to be overlooked and underpaid had marred her once bright smiles with hints of fatigue and lines around her amber eyes.
With a heavy heart, she unlocks the door to her flat building and lumbers up the stairs that substitute the lift that had not worked since she had taken residence.
Entering her lodgings with a sigh she places her keys onto the hook and placed her sole pair of shoes in their designated place by the door. Mentally preparing herself for another evening of monotonous preparation for yet another day of underappreciated exertion.
Settling into her bed after eating her leftover spaghetti and attempting to douse her struggles with the limited hot water in her shower was a feat within itself. Endeavoring to find respite between her thin white sheets as sleep continued to evade her.
Her mind rustled with thoughts of the trials and tribulations that faced her. She needed a distraction.
Rummaging through her small bedside drawer she found her savior: a small pink vibrator.
Maybe she should take some time for herself? Surely, she has earned it.
Taking her smartphone off of its second-hand charging cable she searched for some porn to watch. After a few minutes of absentminded scrolling, she found the perfect video. One of a woman bound to a bed as a man pounds into her while she lewdly whimpers and moans into the underwear stuffed in her mouth.
Leaning her phone against her headboard and turning to lie on her plush midriff. She selects the video and shoves the vibrator under her trousers. Suddenly too desperate for any foreplay, she presses it against her clit and moans at the sensation.
The jolting pleasure as she ground her clit into the vibrator with ever-increasing desperation. Imagining herself as the woman in the video, with arms bound so that she could do nothing but take his thick cock with squealing moans as she tasted her wetness through her panties.
Releasing her whimpers as she toyed with the wetness seeping out of her desperate little hole. Begging into the empty air for release as her thrusts increased, making the bed tremor.
Turning the volume up to hear the man dirty talking to the woman as her tits bounced with every rapid thrust, with no care for her thin walls as she obsessed over her pleasure.
She was so close, her brunette hair dragging against her face as she chased her climax. The coil tightened as her pussy grew wetter and wetter.
Suddenly, it burst within her and she opened her mouth in a silent scream as her overstimulated clit continued to glide over her soaked vibrator. Riding it out until it became far too much to bear.
Breathing deeply as she attempted to digest the orgasm she had just given herself she turned off the video and vibrator: suddenly embarrassed at how deafening it was. However, the obscene amount of slickness between her legs was undeniable - she had squirted.
Removing the soaked vibrator from between her legs she began licking her slick from the device, silently worshipping it for the pleasure it had given her. She felt no need to clean up the mess between her legs that had leaked onto her bed sheets. For now, she was content with reveling in it and occasionally reaching down with her two fingers and tasting it.
She had experienced the best orgasm of her life. So, did he.
Watching her through the cameras he had covertly installed in her minuscule home, he had seen it all. Recognizing just how much of a slut he had desired for himself and how satisfying it would be to quell her need in the name of his own.
For that pulsating cunt to be wrapped around his cock as she came. He pumped his cock into his clenched fist as he moaned her name, using his preccum to lubricate the movement.
The moment he came, he realized the true extent of his obsession. Which ranged from premeditated chance encounters in supermarkets to following her home under the cover of shadow. She belonged to him.
After such sacrifices for his country, and for the world he was owed this minute gift. A pussy to warm his cock at night, and as far as he was concerned she already belonged to him.
The last time he had entered her apartment her sweater had been laying on her bed. He had scrutinized it and inhaled her aroma lingering in the cloth. Fuelling the blaze of his addiction to her.
He wanted to love her. He wanted to own her. He wanted to break her.
To him, it was all the same.
Her grins as well as her anguish belonged to him, and if anyone dictated otherwise her smiles and screams would stop altogether.
A/N: My submission for #roosminimarch (my first writing challenge 🥳)! I used the words credit card, wooden spoon, and loose thread @darkficsyouneveraskedfor. This is definitely darker than what I’m used to writing, but I wouldn’t qualify it as a dark fic. Hope you enjoy! Feedback welcome and encouraged! <3
Your heart’s racing when you check the clock on your gas stove, just past 7:30pm. Rafe will be walking in at any minute now.
Normally, you’d be excited to welcome him home after a long day at work. He vents about his dad’s role in the business, you fill his ear with all the nonsense going on with the other housewives, while he thinks about getting his dick wet.
Not today though.
Everything changed around lunch time, a simple text signaling a punishment on the horizon.
Got a call about my credit card today.
In your defense, Rafe’s never had a problem with your spending habits before. He should know that spring is coming and you need a new handbag to flash around the country club.
He’s really being unreasonable. It wouldn’t have been as big of a deal if you hadn’t slipped up last week and hired a Pogue to clean the pool.
Now, Rafe’s taken it upon himself to monitor your purchases extra closely, nothing over 10K unless you run it by him. Oops. You feel slightly betrayed by the bank, knowing they’re the ones who called and sold you out. Naturally, you have no choice but to butter him up before he lays down the law.
The hearty smell of garlic, rosemary, and tomato fill your nose, distracting you from the impending doom. The wooden spoon in your hand is damp with sweat, your grip tightening when you hear the sound of Rafe’s truck pulling into the garage.
By the time he’s unlocking the door, you’re cursing yourself for not starting dinner earlier, knowing it’d be a helpful distraction before he gets to your punishment. Delaying the inevitable, but at least it would’ve put him in a better mood.
Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even hear him heading towards the kitchen, before you feel his warmth at your back. Your pulse kicks up at the way he stalks behind you, the smooth fabric of his polo brushing against your skin. His eyes trail over your neck and shoulders, noting that you’re wearing his favorite sundress.
A silent plea for mercy. Cute.
“Hi sweetie, how was work today?” Your tone is sickly sweet, making an effort to hide your nerves.
He notices, of course, but chooses to plop his head on your shoulder and peer into the pot. His arms drape around your waist, giving you a false sense of security.
“Mmm, not bad, dinner smells good though.” His voice is gentle and soothing, making your shoulders drop slightly.
“Thanks, I’m making your favorite.” Your enthusiasm is genuine now, relishing in the praise he’s offered, hoping he’s willing to forget about the little incident.
You attempt to turn around for a kiss but his arms tighten, locking you in your position, your back to his front. His lips are soft and warm against your neck, leaving chills in their path and growing wetness between your thighs.
“Such a sweet little wife I have,” he murmurs in between kisses, “cooking dinner for me as soon as I get home from work.”
His hands grip your waist, slowly grinding into you from behind. You give yourself an internal high five for wearing this dress, the thin material allowing you to feel the outline of his cock pressing into you.
“T-thought, you w-were gonna punish me when you got home,” you breathe out, pushing the pot towards a cool burner. He lets out a soft chuckle in response, carrying on with his movements.
His hands slowly inch the dress up and over your hips, the cool air meeting your wetness. You’ve gone commando, another rule you’re meant to follow, allowing easy access.
“Well, it looks like you can follow some of the rules I give you,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kissed to your lower back, sinking down behind you.
When he’s fully seated on his knees, his hands roughly grip your ass, kneading the flesh. The way your hole clamps down around nothing, begging to be filled, makes him throb in his pants. He taps the outside of your thigh, signaling for you to spread your legs.
“Such a smart girl, doing everything I tell her to do.” He snakes his hands between your legs, spreading you open before rubbing slow circles into your clit, almost making you double over.
“S-shit, Rafe,” you softly moan, eliciting a small chuckle from your husband. The vulnerability of your position only adds to your arousal. Broad daylight, dress around your waist, Rafe kneeling behind you. Your clit pulses at the thought of one of your staff walking into the kitchen.
“You like the way I rub your little clit?” He teases, picking up his pace when your hips buck up against the stove. You moan in agreement, barely registering his words.
“M-more, please, need more,” you huff out, pushing your hips further onto his fingers.
To your surprise, your wish is granted, Rafe gripping your hips roughly, forcing you to turn around and face him. He harshly grips your calf, resting it on his shoulder before he continues the slow torture.
“Look at me, now,” he pants out, the authority in his voice has you peering down to take in the sight before you, a moan slipping through your lips.
Maintaining eye contact, he licks a bold stripe along the seam of your pussy, from your hole to clit. Your eyes nearly roll back, the tip of his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub.
“Uh, Rafe, please.” Your hips grind against his tongue, a weak attempt at increasing the pressure. His hands forcefully grab at your hips, keeping them pinned between the stove.
“Sit there and take what I give you,” he commands, causing you to stop your movement altogether. Biting your lip, you stare up at the ceiling, doing what you can to hold off your release.
Despite your efforts, Rafe brings his thumb towards your clit, rubbing harsh circles, using his tongue to prod at your sopping hole.
His tongue is hot and warm against you, spreading the wetness between your folds. When he finally eases his tongue through your entrance, you falter, hips bucking against his face.
“S-sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimper out, forcing yourself to be still, focusing on the top of his dark hair between your thighs. Your thighs tremble when he speeds the movement of his thumb against your clit, matching the pace that his tongue stretches you out.
He pulls back to lean onto his heels now, keeping eye contact as he uses one hand to ease two fingers into your hole, an upgrade from the stretch of his tongue.
You can’t help but to roll your eyes back now, his fingers scissoring into your pussy in time with the tight circles against your clit. His fingers are soon drenched in your wetness as you clamp down, welcoming the intrusion.
“R-Rafe, I think I’m gonna cum,” you pant peering down at him. The way his blue eyes are locked on your face causes your pussy to flutter around his fingers, pushing you towards your orgasm.
You close your eyes trying to hold off, when everything stops.
A sense of panic rushes through you, your eyes flying open. You’re met with a smug Rake, sucking the wetness off his fingers, that smirk permanently etched onto his face.
“W-what the hell, Rafe?” you shriek, confusion still flooding your system.
He slowly stands up, pulling your dress down back over your hips, straightening out your clothing. He has the audacity to pull at a loose thread on your spaghetti strap.
He’s at full height now, towering over you, darkness clouding his features.
“You didn’t think I forgot about what you did, did you?” You almost cower at his words, dread filling your body.
“Rafe, t-this isn’t fair, you always let me-,” His hands gripping your cheeks cut off your words, only allowing you to peer up at him.
“Exactly, I always let you do whatever you want. Maybe, I’ve spoiled you a little too much, so for now, you’ll get what you deserve,” he sounds indifferent, totally unaffected by your pouting.
He drops his hands, planting a soft kiss on your cheek, taking in your disheveled state with a smile.
“Rafe, please,” you whimper, feeling hot tears threaten to spill over, unused to your husband flat out denying you.
The mocking pout he throws over his shoulder is enough to make you accept your fate, it’s clear his mind is made up, leaving you in stunned silence.
“Don’t forget to finish cooking, honey,” he calls out on his way to your bedroom, leaving you with nothing to do but follow his command.
