Dark!stucky X Reader - Blog Posts

Forbidden Fruit |||

Warning: dark!criminal!Bucky Barnes x dark!cop!Steve Rogers x fem!reader, eventual non-con/dub-con, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, gun violence, violence in general

Summary: After some time away, the town's golden boy is back to reclaim his title and his girl. Unfortunately for him, trouble has followed him home.

Word Count: 2.7k

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Since you had come in late, you figured it was only fair to make up for the hours missed by helping close the diner. It was quiet compared to how business roared during the day, and sometimes you preferred it to your morning shifts just to get away from the usual. That wasn't to say you didn't like your regulars, but certain people did put a damper on things.

You had just checked out the last of your customers for the night. The young couple shuffled out of the booth, leaving behind a few bucks for a tip before heading out the door. "Thank you, guys. Come back and see us." They threw their hand up on their way out.

You moved around the counter to their table, tucking the few bucks away with the rest of your tips and cleaning up the mess. Nat took the opportunity to lock the door and turn off the glowing open sign before anyone else tried to walk in.

It was always good feeling locking up because you knew you didn't have to serve anymore customers.

You raked off the dishes with a fork into the floor before taking the back to the kitchen for Pietro to wash with the rest of the dishes.

"Good news. This is it." You assured. He thanked you kindly before taking the last of the dishes. You returned to the table afterwards.

You often wondered how Wanda and Pietro made it through their shifts without bickering. Especially for as long as you had known them, but you guessed being on two separate ends of the building helped too.

"Freedommmm." Nat threw her arms up, earning a laugh from you and Wanda.

She smiled in response before plopping down in the booth with Wanda to help her fold up some silverware. You wiped down the table and seats while listening to them create small talk.

You glanced out the window at the dark street. Home wasn't far from the diner, but considering it was dark, it only had the walk seem longer. Even having known the people in the town as long as you had, you were fond of the idea of walking home in night.

"No, Nat. Seriously you should have seen him, I don't know what came over him. I've never seen Steve like that." Wanda attempted to talk quietly even though you could still her. Maybe in a busy restaurant she might have went unheard.

You peaked over the booth you were cleaning at them. By the way Wanda leaned closer against the table, you could tell she was trying to keep you from hearing.

"So he just broke the glass out of nowhere? No one knows what set him off?" Nat muttered.

God, they were awful at whispering.

"If you ask me, I think Steve saw her with that new guy." Wanda stopped folding, nearly leaning over the table.

"You mean the one with the long hair? Wears the gloves?"

"That's the one." Wanda confirmed.

You rolled your eyes and finished wiping down the booth before you stood up. "You realize I can hear everything you're saying?" You pointed out.

Nat's eyes widen at your words and Wanda stumbled over her own. "Hey- I wasn't saying anything bad. I just know anything to do with him is a sore subject."

You walked around the counter again to wash your hands in the sink. You glanced at her as you dried your hands. "I don't care who you talk about. I can handle hearing about my ex." You assured. It was the truth, for the most part.

You moved over to the register, opening it to count down your drawer. You sat the till on the counter and shuffled through the money, counting in your head.

Nat spoke up from her seat. "I can't be the only one who thinks he's been a little different since that new guy came around."

"Oh no, I thought so too." Wanda admitted.

I paused counting. "Bucky?"

They both look at each other smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes when you noticed. "You guys are awful." You mutter and shook your head. What number were you even on again? Oh, right. And you start back where you left off.

"I mean does it not seem that way to you?"

You sighed. You were never gonna get this done. "He's a customer. I haven't even been out with the guy. He gave me one ride to work, and that was only because I was on the side of the road."

"I offered to send the guys." Wanda reminded you.

"I would rather die."

They both burst out in laughter and you laughed a little yourself. Maybe it was a bit dramatic, but you were partly serious. You didn't want to give your ex the satisfaction of saving the day after he was to blame for many previous ruined ones. Like he was some hero or something.

"But seriously, I would rather walk than have to be in the same vehicle as him. I don't need his help." You admitted.

"Fair enough." Nat nodded while she proceeded to fold up some silverware. "Bucky is so cute though. I envy you. I'm gonna need to pop my own tire on the way to work and see if the hunk comes to my rescue."

Wanda laughed and you rolled your eyes. "Hey, now. Wait for a shift with Y/n before you do that. Ya know, just in case he doesn't come."

"Or do you think I should get under the hood? I'm just trying to figure out the best approach."

You set the cash aside, throwing a rag at Wanda and making them both laugh harder. "Seriously the worst."

--

"You sure it's not a problem? I can walk if it is. It's not big deal." You asked as you, Wanda, Nat, and Pietro exit the diner. You stopped for a moment to lock the door.

"You know it's not a problem." She assured. Nat and Pietro said their goodbyes before parting ways to their own cars, leaving you and Wanda on your own.

"I have tomorrow off, so I should have my car back then. Hopefully it won't cost me an arm and a leg." You said as you walked with her the rest of the way to her car.

"It's not a problem. You know I'd give you a ride any day." She looked over the roof of her car at you and unlocking the car.

You smile while reaching for the door, pausing when you hear a car pulling in over your shoulder.

"Is it not obvious we're closed?" You commented, glancing over at Wanda who stared behind you before giving you a look. You knew that look. It was one you had been all too familiar with lately and you sighed. You heard the car door open and shut behind you before you turned to confirm your suspicions.

"Wanda." Steve greeted Wanda with a smile before his eyes finally fell on you. This was currently new for him. He was stepping up his game from keeping an eye on you at the diner to stalking you out in the parking lot.

He didn't greet you though; only stared until you shifted awkwardly under his gaze. What could he want at this time of night? You were just trying to get home.

"Wanda," Steve finally broke the silence. "Do you mind if I talk to Y/n alone for a moment?"

He glanced at her over the roof and she looked at you for an answer. You gave a small nod before Wanda climbed into the car.

Steve didn't say anything, but you could tell he was searching for the words to say. You leaned back against the side of the car with your eyes on the pavement as you listened to the crickets.

"If I asked you a favor, would you listen?" He finally said.

You pulled your eyes to meet his. They were already staring at you, but you were almost positive they had been this whole time.

"What?"

"If asked you to do something for me, well for yourself really, would you listen to me?" He tried again.

You stare at him for a moment, watching him moving to lean beside you. So close if it wasn't for the inch between you, your arms would've been touching. "I'm sure I can guess what this is about."

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't think it was serious."

"I'm sure."

He didn't have to say anything for you to know where this conversation was going.

He shot you a look. "I just don't get a good feeling about this, Y/n. I can tell you guys are getting close, and if I'm being honest I don't think Bucky is a good person."

You knew that was coming, but who was he to tell you who you could befriend? "Do you know him?"

"No."

Because that makes perfect sense, right? "Have you talked to him before?"

"No." He answered again.

Your patience was starting to run thin already. Steve was the same guy who proposed to you, only to realize after some time this small town life would never be enough for him. Now here he was asking you to stay away from a man you hardly had anything to do with aside from serving him.

"I don't understand you." You shook your head in disbelief. "This is my job, Steve. He's a customer and I can't stop him from coming here just because you're unhappy. And here you are telling me about this feeling you have toward him, but you can't tell me a thing about him that makes him a bad person. Can you tell me how that makes sense?"

You moved off of the side of the car to face him.

He opened his mouth slightly, trying to figure out what to say. "I can't explain it. I really just need you to trust me." He looked down.

You stared at him in disbelief. "No."

His eyes shot up.

"I'm not going to just trust you, because I remember where that got me."

"I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry. All I've done is apologize since I've been back. All I'm asking is this one simple thing. Just stay away from him. If all you do is serve him, I don't see why it would be so hard for someone else to take his table." Steve pushed off of the car, standing just a step away.

"So because he's new to town, that means he's dangerous? Oh Heavens, why is anyone serving him then?" You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest.

He ran his finger through his dark blonde hair, pushing it off of his forehead in frustration, pacing slightly in front of you. "I am trying to protect you."

"I can take care of myself. I don't need you to protect me, Steve." You argued back. He had some nerve asking anything from you after everything he had put you through. You finally rolled your eyes, pushing past him to the car. Fuck him and fuck whatever he was feeling.

You paused when you opened the door. "You know what that feeling is, Steve? That's a realization. Not some bad vibe, it's the realization that Bucky is probably better than you'll ever be."

His jaw ticked in anger, watching you starting to get in the car. "I'm just doing my job."

You held onto the door, turning to look at him. "You want to do your job, go patrol and stop stalking me."

He wished he could explain how wrong you were. He wished he would tell you that the real reality of things was nowhere near your bullshit assumption. Bucky was dangerous, and he still is.

Steve stood in the parking lot even after Wanda was driving away.

Why did you always have to be so damn stubborn? He stared after the car until the lights disappeared over the hill.

His thoughts were interrupted by slow clapping and his hand shot up to rest on his gun, staring in the direction the sound was coming from until a shadow slowly moved from the dark.

"I've gotta say, you put on one hell of a show." Bucky chuckled while he lifted his hands for Steve to see them.

"What are you doing here?" Steve demanded, his hand slowly curling around the gun on his side.

"Moving on. Is that not what we agreed on?" Bucky responded innocently. " But ya know it doesn't look like you're doing much of that." He pointed out while he stepped one foot in front of the other.

Steve pulled his gun from the holster, pointing it right at Bucky but his smirk never lessened.

"Oh come on, Rogers. Is that any way to greet your partner?"

"Oh sorry. Go to hell. Is that better." He spat.

Bucky threw his head back with an amused laugh. " Funny, I thought I was already there. I mean the way you trash talked this town, I expected worse honestly. But I see why you came back." Steve narrowed his eyes. "The whole uniform, the fancy squad car, even a gun. This town must really take kindly to criminals." He gestures toward Steve.

He clenched his jaw. Just pull the trigger. He told himself. It would solve everyone's problems.

"Oh..." Bucky started to bring his hand to his mouth, acting surprised. "They don't know, do they?" He tilted his head.

Steve took the gun off of safety so Bucky knew he wasn't playing around. Nor was he going to feed into his bullshit. He stepped closer to Bucky, pointing the gun right at his head. At this point, he didn't care who saw if anyone did.

"Go on." Bucky encouraged. "Pull the trigger. We both know you can. Let's just hope you have the plan this time. This is a pretty public place, Steve. I mean between someone seeing, all the blood you're going to have to clean up, an explanation for my disappearance. How about my body, Stevie? How do you plan on getting rid of my body?"

Steve was gritting his teeth so hard he was amazed they weren't broken.

Just do it. Fuck! Just fucking do it.

No, he's right. You'll never get away with this. Not here.

"Do it!" Bucky raised his voice. He wished he could, but he couldn't. Like he wasn't already regretting every mistake he ever made after Y/n, but he was really regretting ever befriending Bucky. If he had been on his own, it wouldn't have took long for him to come back home. Everything would have fallen back into place and Y/n would have eventually forgive him for ever leaving. Steve slowly released the gun, putting it down. "Pussy."

He knew it would be in his best interest to keep his hands to himself regardless of how hard he wanted to punch Bucky, just to knock the fucking smile off of his face. And maybe if he was lucky break a couple of teeth. He slowly put his gun back in the holster.

"She makes you soft." Bucky realized. Steve lifted his head to look at Bucky. "That's her, isn't it? That girl you always talked about?"

"Bucky." He warned. "If you touch her, I- I swear to God-"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "We've shared before. What's the difference?"

Steve couldn't stop himself from grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket, bringing him nose to nose with him. "Stay away from her."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk.

"I'm so fucking serious. Don't lay a hand on her. This wasn't apart of the deal."

"Oh, fuck the deal, Rogers. You left me in the dirt while you alpha it up here playing the town's hero. If you think for a second they would have gave you that badge knowing you're a fucking murderer. If it wasn't for me, none of this would be possible for you. Don't you see that? That golden boy reputation gets you everything. But it doesn't get you her." Steve's fists were clenched around his collar, the corner of his lip twitching in anger.

"Bucky-"

"Shut the fuck up." He growled before shoving Steve off of him hard and causing Steve to stumble over his feet a little before regaining his balance. Steve felt defeated. All he wanted to do was get his life together and move on, but Bucky just had to follow him home. "Do yourself a favor and stay out of my way."

tag: @cynic-spirit @naniky @mrsbarnesx @mansaaay @caramelcandescence@candy3002 @onlyjamesbarnes @quethekillerqueen @siriusjohnpotter @empath-bunny @cjand10 @burnoutbo @galacticyearning @lou-la-lou @kvzctam @jevans2

Monstertober Day 7:

Shrine built of lies

Pairing: Occultist!Stucky x Victim!/captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con!!!, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, reader is a sacrifice, knife play?, mentions of blood, public sex, voyeurism, humiliation, implied cult, mystery demon, choking, blood kink, Dark!Stucky, p in v, oral (male receiving) , spitting in readers mouth, dacryphilia, manipulation, betrayal of trust

Nicknames: Doll, Dove

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Who do you guys think the mysterious demon is? It’ll be revealed tomorrow 😏 and I may make a sequel of this featuring the aftermath and this particular demon 😈

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

From behind your eyelids you can feel a blaring light on your face, your body is uncomfortably warm; sweat rolling down your temple, your clothes damp—sticking to your body almost as if it was a summer afternoon, but it was October. Your mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton wool—you move your tongue around and swallow to generate saliva, but a painful ache radiates in your throat as you do. There’s a mass of indistinct mumbling, so intune that it’s like the thrumming of a hive of bees. You keep your eyes closed, moving your hand across the cool stone feeling a smooth, waxy residue as you soak up the coolness. You don’t remember falling asleep and you definitely weren’t in your house, you think you must have fallen asleep during your lunch break.

Sluggishly you open your heavy eyelids, squinting as the light dominates your vision. Slowly you adjust, opening your eyes fully and you let your eyes wander around you. You’re surrounded by people in black robes, they’re hanging over you; they’re black hoods covering their face as they chant. You’re surrounded by heaps of long, white pillar candles, the hot wax dripping onto the stone slab you were laid on. You try to move your arm but the jangle of a chain pauses your movements, the copper scent of your own blood reaches your nose; your wrists are rubbed raw from you moving in your sleep. The people stop chanting and begin to shuffle away from you, moving as if they are all sewed together—so synchronised that it’s horrifying. As they move away you can see more of your surroundings. Intricately carved, Chalky, white pillars decorated with crooked crosses and dripping taper candles. You were in a cathedral, facing the massive wooden doors. The people at your feet began to part, allowing you to see two men approaching briskly. Their black robes more ornate than the others; decorated with silver and red embroidery, jewels and rosaries. At the bottom of the altar they split, one going to your left, the other going to your right. They pushback their hoods allowing you to see their faces, your eyes go wide.

“Hiya, Doll.” Bucky’s familiar smooth Brooklyn accent reaches your ears, and even though you’re chained to an altar, in clothes that are not your own and he and Steve are more than likely responsible. Your face burns and you begin to tingle, your hole fluttering in response to his voice.

“Did you have a nice nap, Dove? You made our coffees just how we like them, you were so preoccupied that you didn’t even notice Buck slipping something into your own drink.”

They were responsible.

You knew they were, but hearing Steve confess made the betrayal sting just a bit more. As if they were twisting the knives they’d both stabbed in your back. You had made these two coffee everyday for almost two months straight, you got to know about their childhoods; how Bucky used to protect Steve when he was scrawny and used to get into street fights, you learnt they joined the military together and now they lived together. You trusted them. They were the favourite part of your shift and now they've betrayed you. The guilt took the form of a lump in your throat as tears brimmed your eyes. You thought they liked you, you thought they were flirting with you—that they wanted you to be a part of their lives. Tears rolled down your burning cheeks “Don’t cry, Doll, you’re safe. You’re with us Steve and Bucky, history professor and personal trainer. That’s the lie we told you wasn’t it? Or was that the last one?”

“Aw Buck, look at her. Her whole world’s fallin’ apart. Be gentle with her, or don’t it’ll be more fun if you’re not.” This Steve was completely different from the bashful, kind man who frequented the coffee shop you worked at. They both were, they were completely different, the dichotomy was terrifying. The fact they had both been so deceitful and created completely alternate personalities just to be able to kidnap and kill you for some freaky cult made the anguish inside you boil into indignation.

“What the fuck is going on!?” You screeched the venom left from their treachery laced in your words.

Bucky slaps you harshly across the face “Don’t use that type of language. Doll. It’s not ladylike, and it’s especially inappropriate in this place of worship. This is a sacred place for the Holy Army of Hydra. We didn’t lie completely, after all we were in the army and now we’re in a different kind of army.”

One of the cloaked followers breaks from the line and scuttles over to Steve, whispering into his ear “Bucky, it’s almost time. We need to start the ceremony soon, or it’ll be too late.”

“What ceremony?”

“That's why you’re here, Doll, you’re our virgin sacrifice that we’re going to corrupt and then offer to our Lord.” Your mouth hung open as you stared at him wide eyed in disbelief. Bucky stroked his rough knuckles against your soft cheek as he shushed you “Shhh, there’s no need to be scared, Doll. You’re gonna be helping us and you’ll feel so much pleasure before we end your pathetic, meaningless little life. All you did with your life was make coffees for minimum wage, you won’t miss livin’ much.” His honeyed words only made your eyes leak more, he gave you a twisted smile as you began to sniffle your tears turning into full on sobs “Keep going you're makin me harder. I love it when they cry.”

“You’re so pretty when you cry, little Dove. I just wanna hit you more. Maybe strangle you, watch you choke on your own congealed spit and tears.” You shied away from his touch as he reached for your neck, but you couldn’t go far thanks to your restraints “Just one of my hands fits around your entire neck” he gave a little squeeze, smirking as you coughed and then he flashed the warm smile he gave you when he first entered the coffee shop two month prior. The smile that made you instantly fall in love with him, the smile you saw in your dream when you imagined your future with them both. He gave you that smile and tightened his grip, they both laughed as you flailed your arms about—trying to reach him to get him to stop, as you began to choke feeling all the oxygen quickly drain from your lungs. You were gasping for air like a fish out of water and then he let go “Breathe. You’re gonna need it, Dove.”

“And Now loyal followers! We will begin the ritual, close the circle around us. Don’t let go of each other's hands or you’ll make our Lord angry, so no matter what you must hold hands and not break the chant. Begin.”

Bucky ran his hand across the smooth surface of the altar as strode to where your feet were. He climbed on to it, using his strength to bend your legs at the knee, even despite your resistance, and positioned himself between your legs. The white chemise bunch at your hips leaving your bare pussy on display for all to see. “You’re dripping for us, Doll. Do you like being watched? Do you like being captured and held against your will? Does the prospect of being released from the painful existence of this mortal coil excite you?” You furiously shook your head, biting on your lip to suppress a whimper as he ran a hot finger through your folds “Your body is honest, why aren’t you?” He held out his slick covered fingers to Steve and he gladly took them into his mouth.

“So tasty, Dove.” He praised, turning your head on its side to face him “Open your mouth, suck me off. No teeth.” Hesitantly you opened your mouth, Steve slapped his dick against your cheek leaving sticky precum on your in it’s wake before shoving his full length down your throat. You gaged around him, making your throat restrict around him; you could feel every single vein on his shaft and you felt it twitch as you gagged again. Steve groaned in response, taking a handful of your hair as leverage as he abused your throat.

The pain in your jaw was overridden by the blistering ache of Bucky’s thick dick splitting you open. You choked as you tried to scream, digging your nails into Steve’s thigh till you drew blood. The action only made him quicken his thrusts.

“Fuckkk. She feels like silk, Stevie”

Steve swiftly pulled his member out of your mouth and walked over to the end of the altar behind Bucky, his throbbing, wet dick bobbing against his pelvis as he walked. “Change position, I want to feel you around me.” Steve orders, the dominance in his words making the man tearing you apart bite his lip. He complied, shifting his position of being crouched on his knees, to him placing one hand next to your head and using the other to drag your legs around his hips; so he could still thrust into you whilst presenting himself to the approaching blonde. Steve crawled behind him kneeling down, he spat on his fingers and smeared it on Bucky’s clenching rosebud, giving Bucky the care and gentleness that the brunette had skipped over before he shoved himself inside you. “That’s it, open up for me Buck. You’re always so tight when I fuck whilst you’re getting your cock squeezed.” Bucky choked out a moan as Steve scissored his fingers, his thrusts stopped momentarily when Steve slipped inside.

His fist next to your head pounded into the hard stone of the altar as he let out a low moan “God, Steve…F-feels great. She’s really squeezing now, do you like watching Steve fuck me, you little pervert?” His tittering was cut short as Steve began to thrust, making his hips involuntarily move in tandem. The chant of the cultist faded to white noise as pain eventually became pleasure. Bucky’s thrust became less brutal and more loving as Steve thrusted into him slowly and rhythmically, his hands caressing Bucky’s body over the robe. A pleasurable heat swept through you, your clit tingling as Bucky puffed warm breathes down onto you “Get lost in the pleasure, it’s not so bad after all is it.”

“I-I h-hate you.” You whined as the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against the sweet spot inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent wail and Bucky spat into your open mouth.

“Swallow my spit. Be- ah Be grateful.” He scowled at you as he waited expectantly, you did as he said swallowing down his spit “Such a good Doll.” He cooed, his praise made you keen and tighten. Bucky slammed into you brutally, chuckling at your yelp. You were so embarrassed, but God if it didn’t feel good. You had completely forgotten about the circle of chanting people surrounding you. The only thing that existed right now was Bucky, Steve and the pleasure they were drawing from you.

“cummming! Gonna cum!” You exclaimed feeling the heated tingle in your lower belly becoming unbearable.

“Cum. Do it. Make Buck cum, so he can make me cum.” Steve’s deep commanding voice was the final push you needed for your eyes to roll back into your head and your pussy to constrict around Bucky making him cum with a whimpered fuck, pouring so much of his hot cum into you that it began to leak from adding to the puddle of your juices below your hips. Steve wasn’t far behind; forcing Bucky back into his hips with such force you thought he’d dislocate his hip as he came.

Your vision slowly returned, and just as you were no longer seeing only white, from seemingly nowhere Bucky pulled out a highly decorated, sharp dagger and carved a heart into your chest. You yanked at your restraints screaming like a banshee as the knife cut through your flesh, the agony only intensified when Bucky dipped his head and sucked at the fresh wound. He pulled away, licking the blood from his lips, as if it were simply red wine. Steve leaned over towards Bucky, capturing his blood stained lips in a passionate kiss. Moaning as the metallic taste of your blood entered his mouth, his scar littered hands take hold of the dark fabric of Bucky’s robe pulling him closer so he can devour Bucky’s lips; his tongue searching for traces of your blood whilst entangled with Bucky’s. Steve breaks the kiss, leaving Buck a panting mess on top of you, and he dips his head down to the incision Bucky made over your heart sucking blood from the leaking wound like a starved animal making you scream as he pulls at the damaged skin with his teeth. Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s golden hair as he feasts “That’s it Stevie drink your fill, she tastes so delectable doesn’t she?” Steve hums in response sending vibrations through the throbbing cut making you squeal “You need to stop so she doesn’t pass out before the ritual is complete.” He tries to remove Steve but he growls at Bucky giving him a dark, animalistic scowl as he digs his nails into the skin of your arm “Punk. I said let go.” Bucky yanks his hair making Steve stop and come up from your chest, his face smeared with your blood.

“I’m hungry, Buck. Her blood is so fucking good. I’m hard again.” He mumbles, taking his hard cock into his hand and pumping it.

Bucky slips off the altar and pulls Steve close, running his tongue across Steve’s bloodied cheek and then starts sucking your blood out of his beard; whilst rubbing the pad of his thumb across the slit of Steve’s dick. “They’ll be time to feast on her more later…and take care of other things, but right now we need to complete the ritual. Practice patience, like the Lord commands.” They parted ways again, both returning to their respective places—Bucky on your left, Steve on your right. They both took hold of the dagger, raising it high so the warm light of the candles cast fragments of light around the cathedral

“Please! No! Please!” You cry, whimpering as you try to curl your body away from the path of the knife.

“May our Lord receive our offering.” They both chant, plunge the knife into your throat. Steve immediately lets go, but Bucky pulls out the knife and makes a slit horizontally across your neck. Blood spurts in streams from your neck, like an elegant fountain in a town plaza. The men chanting raise their heads and push back their hoods—moving in unison. They all collect some of your blood onto their fingers and draw a symbol on their foreheads “May our lord receive our offering.” They drone simultaneously. A cold rush of air blows through the cathedral, all the candles blow out leaving them in utter darkness.

“James. What’s going on?” Steve’s voice quivers as he asks, turning his face towards Bucky to try and look into his eyes from comfort. It was impossible to see.

“I don’t know. Steven. None of this shit is meant to be real.” He spat, nerves sending a wave of goosebumps across his skin. His hand sought for Steve’s, entwining his fingers with his for some security. He knew Steve was going to be pissed at him, he thought it was all real after all. It was meant to be fake and only Bucky was meant to know that.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but a booming voice began “Your Lord has arrived. I thank you for the gifts, but I think I want a few more. Maybe all of your souls will suffice.”

Tag list: @phildunphyisadilf @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @cevansgurl @bval-1 @taramaria @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @anniellacinamon

Monstertober Day 5:

The empty sarcophagus𓂀

Pairing: Mummy!Steve Rogers x Reader x Jackal!Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Dub con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, asphyxiation/ choking, scratching, marking/biting, mentions of blood, threesome, Stucky x Reader

Nicknames: Puppy, Pup, Scarab

Word count: 2.4K

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

Watery sunlight from the alternative entrance of the tomb falls down onto the golden sarcophagus, brightening, waning and brightening again. You arrived early enough that it's still cold, you wanted to avoid the midday heat and its blinding, orangey light that followed; you wanted to relax in the bluish grey light, the chill of the air and the absence of people scuttling around like little ants, occupying every square inch of the tomb, searching for secrets, for riches. It was stifling, suffocating; the smell of warm, sweaty people.

You entered into the sliver of sunlight, relishing in the tepid heat that faded and intensified like the ocean lapping at the shore. The golden sarcophagus in front of you was captivating, you ran your hand across the beaten gold covering the wooden coffin letting your hand linger on the brilliant coloured glass and semi-precious stones, fingering each of them in their imperfect rows; following their designs—the story of the inhabitants life. This was just the outer layer of the sarcophagus, next to it was a much heavier coffin, believed to be made of solid gold, that your team had struggled extracting from the initial layer. You moved over to it, more light was seeping in from the entrance now; the golden coffin glimmered, the lapis lazuli, agate, carnelian, amethyst and variscite inlaid on the tomb looked truly beautiful in the soft glow of the rising sun. Ever so gently you brushed your fingers across the side of the coffin, following the curve. You lifted the lid, inching it slowly open and pushing it to the side. It was empty. You could see all the inscriptions, the story of the inhabitants' entire life, but the actual mummy was gone. A frantically carved inscription was raggedly scratched into the bottom of the tomb, your eyes narrowed, your brain burning as you translated it “Cursed be those who enter my tomb...Those that break the seal of this tomb will meet their end by me. I shall seize their neck and cast fear of myself into them…Death will be upon them.” You bit your lip, removing your shaking hands from the edge of the sarcophagus and stepping backwards on trembling legs “Just a mummy’s curse, nothing too bad that’s normal. It’s going to be fine.” You soothed yourself, taking a deep breath in. Your panic was reignited when you realised “Where the fuck is the mummy?” A thin piece of fabric wrapped around your neck and you pulled backwards harshly, falling to the ground. Your hands flew to the fabric constricting your neck scratching at it, trying to distance it from your throat as it choked you, spittle flying from your mouth as you threw your head back to see who was dragging you. It was too dark.

Your vision adjusted as you were dragged into a room lit by rushlight candles, a dusty table was in the center dotted with canopic jars. The dragging stopped as did the choking, the fabric slipped away from its place around your throat; and you began sucking air back into your lungs as you swiveled your head to see who had almost asphyxiated you. You found the missing mummy. He towered over you, his atavistic linen wrapping falling off of him, exposing areas of his ancient, brown-tinged body. His face was fully visible—it was in almost perfect condition, minus a small laceration on the side of his head—defined cheekbones, a trimmed beard and piercing eyes like polished chrysocolla. He was handsome for a mummy, that thought was quickly replaced by a myriad of questions. You slowly got to your feet, putting your arms in front of yourself protectively “Scarab…” He uttered in a drawling tone.

“Scarab? No, wait, How are you even alive?” You questioned an incredulous expression distorting your features.

“That would be because of me, Pup.” A disembodied voice admitted. You turned around to try and see the other man, squinting and staring into the shadowed parts of the tomb. Then there was movement in the darkness “Over here,” He stepped into the light of the rushlight waving one of his hands that was partly paw; his hand was deep black with pads on his fingers and palm, “Hi.”

“Anubis?” Your voice tremored, you stumbled backwards bumping into the mummy behind you. His arms pulled you into him, settling you against his chest “Get off of me!” You struggled against his grip. The smell of decaying flesh reaching your nose makes you gag.

The Jackal stalked closer “Not quite, I’m Bucky a servant of Anubis and behind you is Steve; once an extremely important attendant and warrior for the pharaoh, now he is a mummy which I reanimated.” Bucky caressed your face with his cold dog-like palm, stroking across your cheek with his thumb—the long claw-like nail just about missed your eye. “You're going to be punished for opening the tomb, Pup, isn’t she Stevie?” Steve simply grunted in response, rubbing his crotch into your ass. You attempted to wriggle out of his grip but Bucky caged you in, his hands wandering down your body caressing your waist and hips. Below the thin material of his loincloth you could see his cock get harder, lifting the fabric as it did. His hands trailed back up to your tits, giving them a squeeze before he used one his sharp nails to tear open your blouse and bra. His chilly hands tweaked your nipples, his claws cutting into your skin as he pinched, you gasped trying to pull away from his touch.

Bucky’s other hand moved down to your shorts, undoing the buttons and tugging them down to your feet along with you underwear “I can smell you, little Puppy, there’s no point in trying to get away so you should at least have some fun or we’ll give you a truly terrible curse.” His voice was low and threatening, eyes narrowed and dark as he relished in the fear present in your tear reddened eyes. Bucky goes down on his knees, carefully helping you out of your shorts and tossing them across the embalming room. He placed one of your legs over his shoulder, liking his lips at the sight of your wet pussy. “So wet for us, Pup, do you secretly like being shared by two people? Do you like us taking you against your will?” You whined in response turning your head away to stare at the ancient walls, one of Steve’s hands seized your face pulling you into a kiss. His mouth was cold and tasted bitter. You scrunch your nose as he deepened the kiss, then you felt Bucky slide his long tongue inside of; the hot, wet muscle filled you so well, attacking the sweet spot inside you as the bridge of his nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. You writhed in the mummies grasp, your hands clenching and unclenching frantically—you were desperate to bury your hands in Bucky’s curls; to feel his long velvety ears and run the silky inside between your thumb and index finger. You could feel heat building in you belly as Bucky removed his tongue from your eager hole and began to suck and tease your bud, Steves kisses simply added to the sensation you head growing fuzzy from the stimulation which only intensified when Steve released your face from his hold and satiated the burning need of your clenching hole by roughly shoving two of his fingers inside you.

You pulled away from the intense kiss, slamming your head into his broad shoulder as you let out a breathy moan. “Feel good…Khepri- Scarab?” Steve probed, nibbling at your ear.

“Yes!” You whined, prying a hand from his grasp and digging your hand into Bucky’s soft hair, grinding your hips into his face trying to chase your release. He pulled away, lips red, his chin shining with spit and your slick “So close” you sobbed playing with his charcoal ears, fiddling with the golden piercing. Bucky’s large tongue licked across your inner thigh, you heard him let out a low chuckle before he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh. You hissed, slamming the back of his head with your fists. He released the area he’d bitten, slurping at the blood dripping down your thigh.

“You’re going to let Stevie fuck you arent you, Scarab?”

“I call her Scarab, my Scarab.” Steve grunted, tightening his hold on you so much so that you thought your wrist would snap, you could feel the bruises already forming as he strangled your wrists. You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his hard dick pressing on to your back, dripping precum “Saw her first. Like Khepri…appeared from nowhere, Scarab special. Mine.”

“Steve, you need to learn how to share. She can be both of ours, my Puppy, your Scarab. Okay?” Bucky kneads Steve’s shoulders soothingly.

“Fine. Scarab, up.” Steve picked you up, carrying you over to the table brushing his arm across it knocking the fragile canopic jars to the floor causing them to shatter. He lays you on your back on the dusty stone table; he pulled your hips closer to the edge. Staring into your eyes as he ran his red, leaking, mushroom head through your folds. You whimpered as he teased you, copying what he’d seen Bucky do earlier and playing with your puffy clit. With a single thrust he shoved himself fully inside, his dick crashing against your cervix almost painfully as he tried to fit all of his length in, giving shallow thrust to try get it all the way. A painful sting tore through you as your pussy tried to grow accustomed to the size of his girth shaft, Steve's eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

Bucky grazed his hand across Steve’s arm gently “It’s not gonna fit all the way. Remember what I told you? You’re big.” The jackal chuckled at Steve’s pout and his grumbling “He’s big isn’t he, Puppy? Too big. Try to breathe. Now turn your head to the side, Steve’s not gonna be the only one having fun.” You don’t know why, but you obeyed him; turning your head so your cheek rested against the cool stone. When you turned you were met with Bucky’s cock, he’d taken off his loin cloth and now you could fully see it. It was long, thick (not as thick as Steves), with a purple vein running from the base all the way to the tip and a golden piercing through the head, matching the ones in his ears. A bead of precum dripped from the head and he smeared it across your lips. A devious smile stretching across his lips “Open up. Don’t even think about biting it or I’ll pull out all your teeth and put them in one of the canopic jars.” He lowered his voice an octave as he threatened you. Steve stopped his thrusts giving Bucky a disapproving glare.

“Don’t threaten Scarab.” He growled, making Bucky’s ears pull backwards, he nodded, looking like a puppy that just got caught chewing something they weren’t supposed to, you snickered shooting a smile at him. Your smile soon faded as Bucky’s heady scent filled your nostrils; he sheathed the full length of his veiny cock in your mouth. You could feel the head of his dick brush uncomfortably against the walls of your throat. You gaged a bit and he rasped out a moan in response “that’s it, choke on it, Puppy.” You claw at his thick, hair thighs with your nails pushing yourself off of him, saliva leaking down your chin as you glare at him with teary eyes. He tangles his fingers in your hair and begins pounding into you, disregarding your muffled pleas for him to slow down “this is a punishment after all, Pup. Can’t be too nice.”

“Scarab feels good, s-so warm.” Steve moaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing throughout the room.

“I won't deny that she’s warm, but it’s also because you’re extremely cold, big guy.” Bucky used his free hand to play with your nipples, circling the hardened nub with his claw “Gonna make pleasure and pain indistinguishable for you.” Buck snarled, dragging his claws across your rib cage as he rammed his dick down your throat. Your jaw ached and mild prickling from the tiny incisions made you clench around Steve. You felt so full, your brain growing hazy as a pleasurable heat spread across your lower back.You tried to close your legs around Steve as the tingling inside you grew “She’s close. Come for us, Puppy!” He demanded quickening his thrusts in an attempt to catch up to both you and Steve. Your eyes flickered upwards towards the mummy above you. His face was flushed, mouth wide open, tears in his eyes as his brutal pace continued—the sight was enough to send you over the edge.

The sounds of Steve and Bucky’s moans cut into white noise as the coil tightening within your lower abdomen finally snapped, making your eyes roll back into your head as your pussy tensed around Steve's pulsing dick. His fingers dug into your hips as he came with a violent thrust and a gravelly grunt. Your eyes burned as Bucky’s held your face flush against his pelvis as let all of his seed flow down your throat. Bucky slipped his cock out of your mouth, the ache within your jaw finally dissipated. Begrudgingly Steve weakened his hold on your hips, whining as he slowly pulled out of you. Groggily you lifted your wrist, reading your watch—it was almost eight in the morning. The team was going to be here soon. Shakily you got to your feet, searching for your shorts that Bucky had tossed. The Jackal grabbed your arm. “I need to go, the research team is going to be here soon.”

“Oh sweet little Puppy, you’re not leaving. You’re coming with us, back to the underworld.” Bucky cooed, you felt two large hands seize your throat and squeeze, constricting your throat in his murderous grip. You fought for air, kicking at Steve's legs with your feet as he lifted you off the ground with his strong beefy arms, even below the bandaged you could see the muscles in his arms tense and his veins bulging as he used all his strength to clutch your throat. Darkness bordered your vision as the air drained from your lungs; your floundering and thrashing became more violent, you could feel the adrenaline leaving your body that was slowly growing slack “Shhh, death isn’t scary. It’s fun. You’ll travel through Duat on Ra’s boat, consult with Oris, meet master Anubis and then we can spend eternity together in the stars. Sleep now, Puppy, and when you wake we’ll begin our journey, together.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @cevansgurl @bval-1 @taramaria

Rewritten

Summary: You wake up in a cozy home with no memory of anything. You find your alleged lovers reassuring you that you’ve always lived there and that they’ll stay by your side through this difficult time. However, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong. (Dark!Bucky Barnes x reader x Dark!Steve Rogers)

Warnings/Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Dark Bucky Barnes. Dark Steve Rogers. Psychological & emotional manipulation. Memory loss. Gaslighting. Alludes to Kidnapping.

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: To be honest, I had the idea for this one but struggled to write it. I hope it turned out decent enough. You are responsible for the media you consume. Let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Main Masterlist

You wake to the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through sheer curtains, casting an ethereal glow over the room. The faint scent of pancakes lingers in the air, drifting through your senses like an old, forgotten memory.

The bed is plush beneath you and too soft, almost as if it were made to cocoon you, to hold you in a place of perfect comfort. The sheets are smooth, cool, but they don't belong. They're foreign, unfamiliar. You blink, disoriented. Something about the room seems… off. There’s a quiet stillness to it, a sense of being watched, though the air is unthreatening. A low hum of something distant, like a heart beating just a little too fast.

The room is small, but cozy. Elegant, even. The soft glow of the morning sun is reflected in the delicate furniture such as a nightstand with a polished wood surface or the dresser with a few scattered items on top. Your eyes, still unfocused, drift to a framed picture on the nightstand. You reach out automatically, though your hand trembles slightly as you grasp the edge of the frame.

The photo inside is a strange sight.

It’s a picture of you. You’re smiling, laughing, in fact. Your arms are wrapped around two men, standing close to each other with their own hands resting on your shoulders. You look happy, relaxed. Safe.

But you don’t recognize them. Not at all.

The taller man has blond hair, a strong jawline, and eyes that should be comforting, but they don’t reach you. He’s smiling down at you as if you were someone he cared about, but you can’t remember ever knowing him. The other man has dark, disheveled hair, a shadow of stubble along his jaw, and eyes that seem… more distant. Cold. But even as you stare, your heart feels like it’s trying to remember something buried, something lost.

You drop the frame back onto the nightstand with a soft thud, and for a moment, the silence is deafening.

“Hey.”

The voice comes from the doorway, low and warm, though the words hold an edge you can’t place.

You snap your head up, your breath quickening as you sit up on the bed. A man stands there tall, broad-shouldered, with a metal arm hanging at his side. His eyes, dark and full of something unreadable, watch you carefully. You can feel his gaze weighing on you, measuring you.

“You’re awake,” His voice is soft but firm. He looks oddly… relieved. But there's something about the way he watches you, something that doesn’t feel quite right.

“Who… who are you?” Your voice is hoarse, trembling, and you immediately feel a sense of panic clawing at your chest.

The man takes a step forward, his expression unreadable. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. You don’t remember us again, but that’s okay.” His voice dips a little, softer. “It happens.”

“Remember? I don’t remember anything.”

A sharp, sudden shift in the air. You don’t realize it until the second man enters the room. He’s around the same height, though leaner. Blond. His gaze falls on you immediately, and you feel an odd wave of something unfamiliar crash over you, a strange mixture of comfort and something darker.

The first man, the one who spoke, stands a little straighter at the sight of him. The second man, Steve, doesn’t seem phased at all. If anything, he’s relieved to see you awake.

But something is wrong. You can’t place it. There’s an unease in the pit of your stomach, like the weight of their presence is too heavy for you to bear.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Steve says, his voice gentle but steady. “Hydra did things to you… erased your memories. But we’re here now. We’ll help you remember.”

Your hands grip the edge of the blanket, knuckles white. Your head feels thick, heavy, as if there’s a fog clouding your thoughts. “I don’t… know you. I don’t remember this place. I don’t know who you are.”

“You’ve been here before,” Steve continues, taking a slow step closer to you. “This isn’t the first time, but don’t worry. It will get easier. We’ll help you through it.” His hand reaches toward you, a tentative gesture, but there’s something possessive in the way he moves, something that makes you shudder.

“You always forget,” The man with the metal arm, Bucky, adds quietly. He doesn’t step closer, but his eyes are locked onto you, searching. “But it’s okay. We’ll remind you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” You say, your voice trembling. There’s an instinct in you, a pull to trust what they’re saying, but your gut screams that something isn’t right. “Who are you? What have you done to me?”

Steve’s hand lingers in the air, just a breath from your cheek, before he withdraws it slowly. “You were lost. You didn’t remember us the first time, either.” His words are soft, almost too soft. “But you will. You always do.”

Bucky stands silent behind Steve, his eyes fixed on you with something too intense to describe. His posture is stiff, controlled, as if he’s afraid of moving too suddenly. But there’s something cold in his gaze, something calculating, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll break.

A memory flickers in your mind, so brief it might have been imagined: a faint moment of laughter, of warmth. You and these men together, somewhere you can’t quite place. But it vanishes before you can hold onto it.

“Just… tell me the truth,” You whisper, your breath shallow. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“You’re safe,” Steve assures, kneeling beside the bed, his hand brushing the side of your face with the gentleness of a lover. “You’re always safe with us.”

Bucky steps forward then, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he watches you. His voice is low. “We’ve kept you safe every time, haven’t we?”

Something heavy fills the air between you. They’re speaking like you’re a child they’ve been caring for, but you know, something inside you knows, that’s not all of it. This isn’t just care. This feels like control.

“You belong with us after all,” Bucky murmurs, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.

You flinch back as the words reverberate in your chest.

The door locks behind them with a quiet click, and you feel it reverberate in your chest like the closing of a cage. The room suddenly seems smaller, suffocating. You try to stand, to make sense of your surroundings, but your legs feel unsteady beneath you, as if they’ve forgotten how to hold your weight.

Steve remains kneeling beside the bed, his hand still hovering near your face, his touch a strange mixture of warmth and weight. His eyes are searching your face with a tenderness that should be comforting. But it isn’t.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Steve says, his voice almost too smooth, too comforting. “You’re home now.“

“But I… don’t know you,” You whisper, the words breaking against the thick tension in the air.

You don’t know how to feel. There’s a pull in your chest, an undeniable ache to trust him, but every fiber of your being tells you to run, to escape this unfamiliar warmth. But where would you go? There are no windows in this room, only soft, almost hypnotic light and the oppressive presence of two men who insist they’ve known you for far longer than you can remember.

Bucky watches from across the room, his metal arm resting against the doorframe, his eyes dark and calculating. It’s hard to tell if he’s waiting for you to calm down, or if he’s simply studying you, waiting for the exact moment your resistance breaks.

“We’ve been through this before,” Bucky says, his voice low, but it carries an edge of something dark. "Every time, you don’t remember, but you get it back. We’re here for you.”

Your eyes flicker to him, his posture so tense, it’s like he’s bracing for something, waiting for a signal you can’t see. You don’t know him. You don’t know any of this, and yet… The flicker of a memory dances in the back of your mind again. You see yourself in his arms held close, like you belong. But it’s all too foggy, too distant. The image fades before you can grasp it fully.

Bucky shifts, his gaze flicking between you and Steve. His body language speaks of restraint, like he’s holding something back, fighting a temptation to move closer. His hand flexes by his side, the metallic fingers of his left hand clenching in a subtle but telling motion.

“You don’t remember the last time we had breakfast together, do you?” Steve asks gently, as if testing a boundary. “You laughed so hard when I tried to cook the eggs. You called me an idiot, and then we ate on the couch, watching that romance show you love.”

You search his eyes for any hint of deception, but they’re so earnest, so soft. The words tug at something inside you, a small thread of something familiar, but your mind stubbornly holds its ground. You’re not sure if you want to trust him or if you’re simply desperate to feel like you’re home.

“I don’t remember,” You whisper, your voice catching. You want to believe him, but the words don’t feel right. “I… I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says, smiling as though this is just another part of the process, as if it’s routine. As if the confusion is natural, and it should be expected. “We’ll remind you, just like we always do.”

Bucky steps forward, his voice colder now, more insistent. “You always say that, Steve.” His eyes never leave you. “We’ve done this before. She’ll get it back, eventually.”

There’s something unsettling in the way he speaks, as if he’s not entirely sure himself that you are the same person who walked in here before. You look at Bucky, trying to make sense of him. There’s an intensity to his gaze, a hardness in his features that doesn’t soften, not even when he speaks. The way he stands, so still and poised, makes you feel like a mouse trapped in a predator’s gaze.

“Every time,” He murmurs, a strange satisfaction in his voice. “We’ll remind you. You’ll come back.”

Come back.

It feels like a command, like a foregone conclusion, and something inside you rebels against it. You want to ask him what he means, ask them both what they mean, but the words stick in your throat. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Steve reaches up, cupping your chin gently with his hand. His touch is soft, but there’s an undercurrent of something darker beneath it. “We’re not going to leave you. You’ll remember. It’ll be like it always was. Like it should be.”

A flicker of discomfort sharpens your senses. There’s a strange, hollow weight behind his words, as though they don’t just want you to remember—they need you to.

“What… what if I don’t remember?” You ask, the words coming out quieter than you intended.

Steve leans in closer, his voice lower now, coaxing. “You will. You always do.”

Bucky steps forward, his eyes cold, unreadable. His lips barely twitch into something resembling a smile, but it’s fleeting, like it doesn’t quite belong. “We’ll help you. We always do.”

Something dark unfurls in your chest, a quiet, nagging suspicion that they’ve been here before. They’ve watched you forget, watched you become someone else. Someone who depends on them, who trusts them. And every time, you come back.

You come back.

The weight of the realization presses into your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don’t know why you keep forgetting, but surely that must mean something is wrong. However, you haven’t figured out yet if it’s you or them.

-

The days blur together. Each one feels like a repetition of the last, a loop that tightens around you with every passing moment. You never quite know if what you're experiencing is real or another fragment of the memory that Steve and Bucky insist belongs to you.

Today is no different.

The room you’re confined to feels like it’s been designed for you to forget where you end and the walls begin. It’s soft, sterile, but just close enough to warm for you to feel like you should be at peace. But there’s no peace in your chest. There’s only an aching tension that never seems to let up.

Steve enters first, his footsteps silent on the floor as he walks toward you. He doesn’t speak immediately, just watches, as if waiting for something to happen. His eyes lock on yours, and for a second, you feel as though he’s peeling you open, reading you like a book.

"You’re quiet today," He says, his voice low, almost coaxing. "Not feeling well? You know I’m always here to help."

It’s a familiar line, one that’s said so many times it sounds like a chant, a mantra. Each word meant to soothe, to ease you into a false sense of security. But it doesn’t work. Not anymore.

"I'm fine," You reply, the words tasting bitter as they leave your mouth. Your throat feels dry, constricted. You’ve said this before, but it’s always the same. The moment the words leave your lips, you realize you don’t mean them.

Steve tilts his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. "You know that’s not true. You’ve been pushing us away, but that’s okay. We can fix this. We always do."

You want to protest, to argue that you don’t need fixing, but the words get tangled up in your mind. Something about his certainty, the way he speaks, makes it feel like you’ve always been broken. Maybe you are broken. Maybe you’ve always been.

Before you can respond, Bucky steps into the room, his presence an undeniable weight. His eyes flicker over to you, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. There's a moment where neither of them says anything, just letting the silence stretch and press down on you. It feels like an eternity.

"I told you not to rush it," Bucky says quietly, but there’s no malice in his voice, just an edge of impatience, like he's waiting for something more. "She’s still trying to adjust."

Steve glances at Bucky and then back to you, his smile softening. "I know. But we need you to start remembering, sweetheart." His voice takes on a subtle urgency, like this is the moment he’s been waiting for.

You feel a cold shiver run through your body at the word "remember." It’s always been the same, always the same pressure—remember who you are, remember what you’ve lost, remember them.

But what if you can’t remember? What if you never will?

"I don’t know how to," You say, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s the truth, and it feels like the most vulnerable thing you could admit. But it’s a risk. A dangerous one.

Steve doesn’t respond with anger or frustration, he simply steps closer to you. The movement is slow, deliberate. His fingers brush lightly against your wrist, sending a jolt through your body that feels almost too intimate. Like he's trying to ground you to him, to make you realize how close you are to him.

"That’s why we’re here," Steve says, his voice soft, but there's a weight behind it now, an undeniable intensity. "We’re not going to let you suffer through this alone.”

You try to pull back, but there’s nowhere to go. The bed, the walls, they close in around you. Steve’s hand is warm on your wrist, steady, unwavering. He’s not letting you escape. And even if you wanted to, even if you tried to run*, where would you go?

Bucky watches from the doorway, his eyes tracing the movement between you and Steve, his expression unreadable. There's something calculating about the way he stands there, like he’s waiting for a signal, for you to break, for you to return to him.

“You should let her breathe, Steve,” Bucky says, his voice like gravel. It’s a command wrapped in the semblance of care, but you hear the warning in it.

Steve nods, his hand slipping away from your wrist reluctantly. “You’re right,” He mutters, his voice distant as if lost in thought. He steps back, but only just. His presence still looms over you, like a shadow you can’t escape.

You don’t know how to breathe without him close, without Bucky just in the corner of your vision. They’ve become your everything and nothing. They’re all you know and all you can remember.

“What if I never remember?” You ask again, the question hanging in the air between the three of you.

Bucky’s lips curl into something that could almost be a comforting smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You will. You always do.” His words are like a broken record, but there’s something in the way he says them that makes your heart sink.

Steve leans in, placing his hands on either side of your face, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t need to worry about that,” He says, his voice so soothing, so tender. “We’ll help you find it. Every time you forget, we’ll remind you. It’s what we do.”

You want to protest, want to scream that you don’t need them to remind you of anything. But the words choke you. You’re too scared to speak, too frightened to resist, because something in you knows, they won’t let you.

"You belong here with us," Steve murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, intimate gesture that makes your skin crawl, even as your body betrays you and relaxes into it. "You always will."

And when he pulls away, it’s with the unsettling certainty that, even if you can’t remember it now, you will. You’ll always come back to them. You always do.

-

The days have begun to bleed into one another with a strange consistency, each one more difficult to tell apart than the last. The constant pull of Steve’s calm assurance, of Bucky’s quiet intensity, is starting to unravel something deep inside you.

It’s not that you don’t resist. You do. You fight against the tug in your chest, the strange sense of familiarity that lingers in every word they say, every look they share. But it’s getting harder to find the strength to push back.

Tonight, the room feels different. Softer, maybe. The lights are dimmed lower than usual, the shadows casting a calming blanket over everything. It should be unsettling, the dark corners and the tightness in your chest, but it isn’t. Not tonight.

Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, his usual spot. He’s not forcing closeness, but you can still feel him there, a steady presence in your peripheral. Bucky stands near the door, leaning casually against the frame, his arms folded across his chest. They’re watching you, waiting.

You know what they want. They’ve made it clear in countless ways. Your memory. Your trust. Your acceptance.

And you don’t want to give it to them. But every time they speak, every time they’re close, it’s like the walls around you start to crumble. You don’t want to let go of what little resistance you have left, but the pull… it’s relentless.

“Do you feel it, too?” Steve asks, his voice low, as if the question is a secret shared only between the two of you. His eyes hold something tender, an almost imperceptible plea, hidden beneath the surface.

You know it’s a question you’re supposed to answer. You know that whatever response you give will shape what comes next. And for the first time in days, you feel the weight of that choice, heavy in your chest.

You swallow, your throat dry. “Feel what?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. You’re stalling, buying yourself time, but it’s pointless. You already know what he’s asking.

Steve’s lips curl into a small, patient smile. “That we’re closer now. You and I. Bucky too. We’re… we’re getting you back. Piece by piece.”

A wave of something washes over you, something so familiar it almost hurts. You don’t know if it’s relief or fear, but it feels like the beginning of something you can’t stop. Something you’ve been slowly inching toward since the moment you arrived.

“I don’t…” You want to protest, want to say you don’t need them, but the words die on your lips. I don’t need them, You try to think, but the thought has no weight anymore. It’s hollow, empty.

Bucky’s voice cuts through the air, low and almost soothing, though there’s a bite to it that feels like it’s meant just for you. “It’s okay to accept it, you know. You don’t need to fight anymore.”

You look at him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. His gaze isn’t soft, but it’s not cruel, either. It’s knowing. He’s been waiting for this. Waiting for you to break.

“I’m not…” You try to force the words out, but they don’t sound like your own anymore. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Them, or yourself.

Steve’s hand rests on your shoulder, his touch warm and gentle, but there’s an undeniable pressure in it. “It’s okay to stop fighting,” he repeats, softer now. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re the ones who care for you.”

And then, just as his words settle in, Bucky steps forward, his boots heavy on the floor, his presence overwhelming. He kneels beside you, his fingers brushing against your cheek in an oddly tender gesture.

“Let go,” He murmurs, his voice rough, like he’s almost pleading. “Let us take care of you. Let us remind you what it’s like. Let us remind you of who we are to you.”

His words are a poison you can’t resist. Something inside you stirs, a flicker of something you can’t place, but it’s undeniable. It’s like a missing puzzle piece clicking into place. You’ve always known them, haven’t you? You’ve always belonged to them. You don’t fight the tears that begin to well up in your eyes. Not because you’re afraid, but because it feels like something you’ve needed to release for so long. A truth you’ve buried deep, but they’ve pulled to the surface.

You don’t speak for a long moment, not sure what to say. You can’t say the words you need to. You’re afraid of the acceptance that’s threatening to bubble up.

But when Steve kisses the top of your head, when Bucky’s hand slides into yours, you feel the faintest hint of peace settle inside you. It’s quiet, like a lullaby you’ve heard before, long ago. Something you’ve always known. The tension in your chest begins to release, and your body leans into them.

“I… I remember,” You whisper, the words sounding fragile as they leave your lips. They’re barely a confession, more of an acceptance.

Steve’s smile widens, something dark and knowing in it. “Good. You always do.”

And as Bucky pulls you into his arms, the last remnants of your resistance fade away, leaving only the comforting weight of their control. You’ve stopped fighting. You’ve stopped trying to remember a life that’s no longer yours.

And now, it feels like you’ve come home.

As you lean into them, your body relaxed against theirs, Steve and Bucky exchange a quiet glance. To anyone else, it might seem like a moment of victorious tenderness, a sign that their carefully woven web of lies and control had finally worked. But for them, it’s the culmination of something far more sinister.

The truth, hidden behind layers of manipulation, slowly rises in the silence between them.

Bucky’s fingers curl tighter around the back of your neck, his touch deceptively soft. The dark gleam in his eyes says everything that words can’t. You’re finally theirs. The power, the rush of having you in their control, it’s almost intoxicating. But even now, when the most delicate part of their plan is complete, he can’t help but remember the meticulous preparations that had gone into this moment.

Steve is still close to you, his arm draped around your waist, his fingers moving gently up and down your arm in a soothing, possessive gesture. His smile is warm, patient, and reassuring, remaining on his face. It’s always been about the long game for Steve. They needed to win your trust first, break you down piece by piece. And it’s been slow. Too slow, maybe. But in the end, they always knew they’d have you.

What you don’t know, what you’ll never know, are the dark truths that have led them to this point.

-

Steve’s eyes glint with something darker, something sharper as he watches you, the one they’ve spent so long breaking down. You lean into him, hair brushing his shoulder. He could almost feel the weight of the years they’ve spent hiding their true intentions, every step of the plan coming to fruition. But in this moment, the only thing that matters is that you’re finally his.

Ours.

He thinks of the syringe hidden away in the drawer, tucked beneath a pile of medical equipment. The tranquilizer, strong enough to put even the most stubborn of minds to sleep, had been a backup. A backup they’d needed far too many times in the past. Every time you’d resisted. Every time you’d tried to break free from them. The memories you couldn’t keep, erased and rewritten. It had taken months to break you down. The endless resets, the subtle manipulation of your memories, it had all been worth it.

He thinks of the old HYDRA tech they’d found buried in the basement of the abandoned facility. They’d salvaged it, repurposed it for their own needs. It was the ultimate insurance policy. A device that would wipe your memories clean, start over again, give them the chance to erase everything and make you theirs all over again. They’d already used it once when you’d tried to escape. It had worked, just as they’d known it would.

And the faked photos. Oh, all the faked things they’d planted around the house and in your mind, subtle distortions of the past. You had thought they were real memories, but they were simply moments they’d manufactured from nothing. Childhood photos, moments that never happened. But you didn’t know. You never would. And now, as you lean into him, trusting him as if he’s the one person who truly cares about you, Steve can’t help but savor the sweetness of your submission.

Meanwhile, Bucky watches you, his fingers gently stroking the side of your face. He’s careful, almost tender, as if he’s not the one who had quietly orchestrated the destruction of everything you once knew. His eyes drift to the scarred corner of the room where they’d had their first confrontation, the first moment of resistance. He can still see the look in your eyes, the defiance, the unwillingness to bend. That’s when he’d first known they’d need to go further than they had before.

Bucky has always been the one to deal with the physical side of things. He’s the one who uses the needles when necessary, the one who watches as memories are erased and rewritten. He doesn’t mind. He never has. His past is just as twisted, just as broken, and he knows that the only way to keep someone is to make them forget everything they thought they knew. Make them bend to his will. Make them need him.

And so he did. The needles, the tech. He’d been the one to use the memory-wiping tech when you tried to break away, your mind racing with escape plans and a hope you hadn’t even known you were capable of. They couldn’t have you escaping again. No. You belonged to them. You would be made to understand that with time.

You don’t remember the screams, the pain. You don’t remember when they had locked you in that cold room and kept you there for days, only feeding you enough to keep you alive. You never remember the real consequences of those escapes. It’s for the best you didn’t.

Together, they had faked everything. The photos, the false memories, the false story, all crafted a perfect illusion of the past. Bucky had been the one to suggest it, to suggest that they give you a history. Let you believe in something. You were fragile after all, even with all the strength you had in you, and you needed the comfort of false hope to hold on to. It had been easy to implant those photos, to whisper lies of childhood friends and tender moments, and you had accepted them, like a child accepts the world their parents give them. You believed.

Now, you’re looking at them, unaware of the depths of their lies. Of how they’ve woven a prison out of every word, every touch. They’re building something permanent within you, and you can’t see it yet.

But you will. Eventually, you’ll understand. And when you do, you’ll want it. You’ll want them. They’ve worked too hard for you to slip away. You’ve already lost. And the more you lose yourself in them, the more you forget, the more they can control you.

That’s the way it always goes.

Bucky glances at Steve, catching the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. They’re in this together. Always have been. You’re theirs now.

And neither of them is letting go.

Caged in Comfort (Pt. 3)

Summary: Your first escape attempt! It doesn’t go as you planned. (Dark Stucky x little!reader)

Warnings/Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Dark Stucky. Age Regression. Forced Age Regression. (Feeding again. Drugged milk.) Kidnapping. References to Labs. Restraints/Restraining. Lots of dialogue. Stockholm Syndrome in the future likely. You are responsible for the media you consume.

Word Count: 2k+

Caged in Comfort Masterlist | Previous | Next

Later, after they’ve fed you, after Steve has coaxed you into bed and Bucky tucked a soft stuffie beside you on the bed like some mockery of care, they finally leave you alone. The bedroom door closes with a soft click. You lie there eerily still and silent, waiting. You count the seconds in your head, ten seconds. Then thirty. Then a minute. Nothing moves. All you can hear is silence.

You sit up slowly and peel back the blanket. Easing your way off the mattress and careful not to shift the bed too much, your feet hit the floor. You move like a shadow across the room, scanning the space more precisely now for any escape route. The window’s is nailed shut. No use. You don’t know how many floors you are from the ground anyways.

Moving across the room carefully, you listen through the door. There comes the sound of muffled voices, but they’re far, maybe closer the kitchen? Another bedroom? You don’t know. Your fingers tremble, but your heart stays steady. This is the only chance you’ll get. And you take it.

The door is shut, but you still twist the handle gently. Click. It’s unlocked.

Your breath catches. They forgot to lock it. You slip out with practiced certainty, heart pounding, and creep down the hall. Everything smells like cedar and laundry detergent and something sweet. Lots of things you don’t really recognize. All the colors and different shapes are unfamiliar to you. It’s all wrong. Too normal. Too different.

Then: voices. Closer than you initially thought.

“…she’s adjusting,” You can hear Steve saying.

“She’s pretending,” Bucky replies, voice low and sharp. “She’s watching everything.”

“She drank from the bottle, Buck.”

“She was starving. Doesn’t mean she’s trusting us.”

You duck behind the edge of the hallway, flattening against the wall.

“Then, let her pretend,” Steve sighs softly. “She’ll see soon enough she’s safer with us than she’s ever been.”

Their footsteps move away again. You don’t hesitate to bolt. Silent, barefoot, and down the opposite hall. Whatever floor you are on seem impressively large. You find a door that you can only hope leads out. You lunge for it only to find it locked. Not only just locked, there lies a code panel next to it, clearly some form of high-tech.

Of course it is.

You stare, scanning for patterns, wires, anything that could be tampered with or help you. You know how to hotwire a panel. You’ve done it in the lab during simulations. But you need time and the right tools. Currently? You have none of those things nor do you know where you could get them. Then you hear it.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice calls out gently, sounding a bit further away like it had been outside your “room”.

You spin, slipping into the nearest room you see, a coat closet. You close it behind you in a hurried yet silent fashion, quiet as breath, crouching under a shelf. Coats brush your cheek. You press your hand over your mouth.

Footsteps can be heard more clearly now. They’re coming closer to the door. You curl into yourself, eyes sharp, breathe silent.

“She’s not in bed,” Steve sounds heartbroken.

“I told you. She’s pretending.” Bucky growls. “We rushed it.”

Silence fills the air for a minute. You keep your breathing as quiet as you can, trying to remain still as a statue.

Then Steve says, quietly, “She’s scared.”

“I’ll check the kitchen,” Bucky’s footsteps depart.

You stay still. So still your knees ache. You count each second in your head. You’ve got maybe two minutes. Then you see it, hanging from one of the coat hooks. A keyring. Maybe the door can be unlocked manually. The previous high-tech panel having captured your focus entirely, maybe there was a key hole. You grab the keys, barely daring to hope. It jingles a little too loud and you let out a small curse under your breath.

Then a voice right outside the door.

“Sweetheart?” Steve. “Are you hiding?”

You freeze in place as the doorknob turns. The door creaks open with light spilling in the enclosed space, soft and golden.

Steve stands in the doorway, still in his sleep shirt. His eyes land on you, seeing you curled under the coats like a frightened deer, key ring in your hand. You can see his expression shifting. Not angry. Worse. Disappointed.

“Oh, honey,” He breathes, kneeling down. “Why’d you do that?”

You lurch back against the wall instinctively. “Don’t—“

“I’m not mad,” He interjects gently. “But this wasn’t safe. What if you’d made it out? Barefoot? Alone?” He reaches for you slowly, like you’re some skittish animal.

You slap his hand away out of instinct, not even bothering with innocent pretense anymore.

He flinches but doesn’t stop. “You promised you were trying.”

“I never promised anything,” You correct, standing suddenly. “You locked me in here like I’m a—”

“Bucky. She’s safe.”

Full of relief yet pained words escape from Steve as he calls out to his partner in crime. And then you hear him.

Much heavier steps with the intention of being heard. Cold air rushes in from behind Steve as Bucky appears. His face is like stone. He takes one look at you, the key in your hand, the defiance in your eyes, and grabs you.

You jerk back as he reaches for you, but his hand is suddenly there. He’s much rougher, faster, and stronger. Never enough to hurt you, but he grabs you around the waist and hauls you out like you weigh nothing. You scream once, purely out of instinct, kicking as your bare heels hit the wall. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” Bucky states, gripping you like a sack under his arm.

You thrash, twisting violently, but his metal arm clamps across your back and stills every movement. He carries you like he’s done this before. Like he knows exactly how to hold a squirming little girl who thinks she’s grown.

Steve trails behind, quieter, eyes sad. “You’re not in trouble, okay?” He murmurs. “You’re just overwhelmed. You’ll feel better after some rest.”

You snap your head toward him. “You’re insane! Both of you!”

But neither of them respond. Once you’ve all arrived back in your room, Bucky kicks the door shut behind him and sits on one of the rocking chairs in the room with you still wriggling under his arm.

“You want to act big?” He says flatly. “You get treated like a brat.”

“I’m not your anything,” You hiss.

“Not yet. But you will be.”

He shifts you in his lap and pins your arms tightly against your sides. It’s humiliating; being held like a toddler, legs dangling, chest heaving with frustration. Meanwhile, Steve walks in holding another warmed bottle in one hand, having took a short detour earlier. You stare at it, letting out an adamant:

“No.”

“It’s just milk,” Steve says softly. “You need something more in your system. You barely ate earlier.”

“I’m not drinking from that again.”

“Then you’ll be held until you do,” Bucky says. “Your choice, kid.”

He pins your jaw with one strong hand. Not rough, but impossible to move. Firm. Steve kneels in front of you, moving the bottle closer. You can faintly smell it now. Similar to before, it smelled sweet and warm. Maybe with some vanilla this time. And something else. Something wrong. Your gut twists.

“I said—!”

But the bottle is pressed against your lips, and your mouth is forced open just enough. The first taste hits your tongue, thick and cloying, and you try to spit it out this time.

“You fight everything,” Bucky mutters. “Even when your body needs help.”

You try to turn your head, but his hand follows you. The milk keeps coming, slow and steady, coaxed down your throat by pressure and patience. You gag once. Than you swallow. It doesn’t take long. Your vision blurs a little. Limbs going fuzzy at the edges, no longer squirming. You’re still there, conscious, but it’s harder to hold on. Your thoughts begin to drift, like static under water. You blink slowly, the fight draining from your muscles without your permission.

“There she is,” Steve whispers, brushing a hand through your hair. “You’re okay now. Just rest.”

You don’t answer. Well, you can’t. You slump forward against Bucky’s chest, heart still hammering with resistance, but your body limp like a puppet with its strings cut. The bottle is pulled away. You don’t know where nor do you care.

The world fades in and out, like a flickering lightbulb behind your eyelids.

Warmth surrounds you, lights dimmed, the dull ache of your limbs refusing to move. You’re distantly aware of motion… a shift… your body being cradled and lifted again. Everything slows, like time itself has thickened.

“She’s out,” Steve murmurs somewhere above you. His voice sounds far away. Gentle. “Poor thing fought so hard.”

You want to respond with some sort of protest. Screaming. Kicking. Running. But your mouth doesn’t obey. Neither do your eyes. Nor does your body. You can’t even lift your hand.

Bucky’s arms tighten slightly, a subtle adjustment as he carries you across the room again. You feel the texture change beneath you as you're lowered onto the mattress, your head meeting the soft, already-warmed pillow with practiced care. You can feel a blanket being pulled up as you’re tucked in with such care and tenderness once again. It should feel nice, but with your situation, it’s only sickening.

“She’s gonna try again,” Bucky says lowly, almost to himself. “Next chance she gets.”

“I know,” Steve replies, sighing. “She’s still scared. Still stuck in that survival mode. It’s not her fault.”

“She’s got too much fire,” Bucky mutters, brushing a stray piece of hair from your cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Reminds me of you.”

Steve huffs a small laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Then you know you can’t scare it out of her. That’s not how she’s gonna trust us.”

“I’m not trying to scare her,” Bucky retorts, quietly defensive. “I’m trying to keep her. You know how easy it’d be for someone else to get to her if she ran? She doesn’t understand that. She’s still thinking like a weapon.”

Your chest rises and falls steadily. Too slow for comfort. Too heavy. They think you’re gone. But you’re still there. Just locked behind your body, helpless, your lashes fluttering slightly as their voices move around you.

“We’ll start smaller tomorrow,” Steve says softly. “Routine. Breakfast together. A story, maybe. You can show her the playroom.”

“She’s not gonna want to go anywhere with me after tonight.”

“She will. Just have to ease her into it, help her realize there’s a softer side.”

You feel the blanket tugged up higher, snug around your chin. Fingers adjust the pillow beneath your head, just so. It’s too much. Too close. You want to scream and cry and claw at your skin, but all you can do is lie there.

Then you hear it. A rustling sound. Then you feel something soft brushing your ankle. You try to move, barely, but your body doesn’t respond.

Just the faint sensation of leather or fabric being pulled snug around your ankle. Not tight. Not rough. But definite. Present. A physical reminder that you’re not free.

“She’ll hurt herself less this way,” Bucky murmurs, voice near your ear now. “Until she remembers she’s ours.”

You can hear Steve start to speak before holding back. The hesitation clear even if you can’t see it on him. The sound of a click can be heard next, a soft one. Probably coming from a buckle or clasp. You can’t tell in this state.

Your breathing must have hitched, because Steve whispers, “Shhh… just sleep, sweetheart. You’re home. You’re okay now.” A kiss lands on your temple, Steve, feather-light.

A hand brushes across your forehead. Then the soft click of a lamp being switched off. The nightlight in your room automatically illuminating and breaking through some of the darkness. Not like you could see it this time though.

You’re too deep in your drugged sleep to hear the final words between them, but there’s a sense of finality in the air. A feeling that you’ve crossed a threshold. Whatever you were, however you fought, it doesn’t matter anymore.

They’ve secured you.

You’ll sleep, and they’ll wait for you to wake, soft restraints in place, ready to keep you under their control.

Caged in Comfort (Pt. 2)

Summary: While Bucky gets you something to eat, you have a discussion with Steve and formulate a plan to bide your time. However, that eventually cracks when Bucky returns with some soup and milk. (Dark Stucky x little!reader)

Warnings/Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Dark Stucky. Age Regression. Forced Age Regression. (Feeding.) Kidnapping. References to Labs. Lots of dialogue. Drugged food and Stockholm Syndrome in the future likely.

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: I haven’t actually decided if I want the food to be drugged or not. I’m also not sure if this series would be interesting enough to read either. Regardless, please read the warnings. You are responsible for the media you consume. Let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Caged in Comfort Masterlist | Previous | Next

You stay still long after the door closes.

Steve doesn’t move either. He just holds you, one arm secure around your middle, the other gently combing his fingers through your hair. It’s too much; the tenderness. It scratches at something raw inside you. You’ve had scientists touch your skin with gloves, handlers yank your arms into place. This isn’t clinical. It’s worse.

“You know who we are, don’t you?” He says softly, not trying to force an answer.

You nod against his shoulder. You know exactly who they are. You’d heard of the guards talk of them. The scientist who tried to replicate what they were. You’ve heard your handlers speak about their DNA, about what made them tick. The serum of particular interest. You know what they are capable of. You never could have imagined this though.

“They called you super soldiers,” You murmur. “Potential weapons. Not people.”

Steve flinches at that, just slightly. “And what did they call you?”

You swallow, hating the memories that flicker through your mind briefly.

“They…didn’t call me anything. Just a number.”

He exhales slowly, holding you tighter. “Well, they were wrong.”

“No,” You whisper. “They weren’t.”

He doesn’t argue. That’s almost worse than if he had. You shift a little, just enough to glance toward the door. Calculating and observant. Steve notices though. Of course he does.

“He locked it,” He says gently. “Not because we don’t trust you. But because you’re scared. Scared people do reckless things.”

“I’m not scared,” You lie.

“You’re shaking.”

You hate that he’s right. It wasn’t enough that your life had been spent controlled by someone else’s wishes. At your first opportunity of being free from that place, you’re still trapped. Ownership now simply being transferred to whom should’ve been your saviors. Heroes who could’ve helped you adapt to a new life, not force you into one of their fantasies. A beat of silence passes. Then:

“I know what regression is,” You mutter, almost like it’s a curse.

Steve blinks. “You do?”

You nod slowly. “The others… the ones before me. Some of them couldn’t take it. Some snapped. Others regressed and went all soft. The scientists liked it, made them easier to control.”

Something tightens in his jaw. That’s not what he wanted to hear. It doesn’t match his image of how things would go: this warm, soft fantasy of what he thinks he’s offering you. But it seems you’re not going to let them paint over your trauma with pastel colors and lullabies.

“So if that’s what this is,” You snap, twisting in his hold just enough to look him in the eye, “If you think I’m going to curl up and call you Papa because you put me in a pink room and comfort me, you’re wrong.”

Steve’s expression doesn’t change much. But something behind his eyes shifts. He leans in just a little, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I don’t want to force you,” He says. “I want you to choose this. To feel safe enough to fall. Because you deserve softness. You deserve comfort.”

“No one deserves anything,” You say, the words bitter. The truth you’ve come to accept long ago. “Not in this world.”

“That’s what they taught you,” He murmurs. “That’s not the truth.”

You go quiet. But your brain doesn’t stop working. It never stops. You watch the way he looks at you. How he talks to you like you’re already his. That same warped gentleness Bucky wore earlier, albeit softer and more visible. You’re not dealing with captors. Not exactly. You’re dealing with men who believe, truly believe, they’re saving you.

And that’s when an idea strikes you. If they believe it? Then, you can use it.

“Fine,” You whisper eventually, your voice cracking in just the right place. You let your head rest against his chest again, limbs going limp. “I’ll try.”

Steve exhales a soft breath, full of relief. You feel it in his chest. You wonder why he doesn’t suspect you. Maybe he does. Maybe he truly believes he can mold you into their perfect little girl, waiting for who knows how long for this. But truthfully, your words are hollow. You don’t mean it. Not really. You’re going to play their game. You’re going to smile. Take their kindness. Let them think you’re softening. Let them hold you and wrap you in blankets and stroke your hair.

And the second that door is unlocked; You’ll run.

Your train of thought gets interrupted when the door opens again with a click. You don’t flinch this time. You remain curled in Steve’s lap, just like he left you, even though your muscles ache with tension under the calm exterior you’re forcing. You keep your eyes half-lidded, mouth set in a dazed sort of frown. You’ve seen the others wear this look. You can fake it too. At least, you hope you can.

Bucky walks in holding a tray. Soup, you think, and something warm in a bottle. Your stomach clenches at the scent before you can stop it.

“Good,” He says, shutting the door behind him. “She hasn’t moved.”

“I told you,” Steve says, brushing his fingers down your back. “She’s trying.”

Trying. That word sits in your mouth like rust. It makes you feel like you’re being graded, watched through one-way glass. You glance at Bucky. He’s watching you with that same hard edge in his eyes. Not cruel nor unkind, but… territorial. Protective. Like a wolf guarding something he’s decided belongs to him.

Bucky sets the tray on the bedside table, then kneels in front of you. Your first instinct is to pull away, but you fight it. You keep your face blank. Small. Helpless.

“This one’s chicken and rice,” He says, holding up the bowl. “Easy on your stomach. Warm. And you’re going to eat the whole thing.”

You blink at him slowly, not answering. Partly for the act but half from the sheer audacity and sureness this man holds. The way they both act so certain is frightening. However, you don’t let it show.

Steve presses a kiss to your temple. “Sweetheart? Can you sit up for Buck? Just a little?”

You shift slightly, only because Steve is guiding you. Not because you want to. You still feel like your bones are made of ice. Bucky lifts the spoon, not handing it to you. Holding it like he’s going to do it.

Your mouth twitches. “I can feed myself.” While you never had five course meals before, you were still allowed to feed yourself whatever mush or food your previous handlers would serve. You had a choice. You still had that fleeting sense of autonomy.

“No,” Bucky says, blunt. “You can’t. You’re too little. Not right now.”

Your hands curl into fists, a flicker of resistance present; but Steve rubs your back again and murmurs, “Just let us take care of you.”

You know what this is. You know it’s not about food. It’s about power. Control disguised as nurture. Infantilization disguised as affection. But still, your stomach growls. And the smell makes your head spin. So, you open your mouth.

Bucky feeds you the first spoonful with slow, deliberate care. It’s warm. It tastes like nothing you ever got in the lab. You hate how good it is.

“There you go,” Steve murmurs as he watches you obediently take bite after bite. “Just like that. Good girl.”

You tense.

You don’t want to like it. The praise. The warmth. But something in your brain flinches every time he says “good girl,” like it’s wired to respond. You push that part down. Deep away while Bucky offers another spoonful. By the fourth, he pauses to unscrew the top of the bottle. The milk inside is frothed and warm. Familiar almost, in a way that makes your throat tighten.

“I don’t need that,” You say hoarsely.

“You do,” Bucky replies. “It’s calming.”

“It’s a bottle.” Like the statement would change anything. Your exasperation and insistence do nothing to persuade either of them.

“You’ll drink it,” He says. “Or I’ll hold you in my lap and do it for you.”

That stops you cold in your protests. You glance at Steve, silently pleading. He was a bit more understanding in some twisted way. But he just gives you that same calm look, fingers combing through your hair again. “We’re trying to help you down,” He explains soothingly. “To feel safe. Cared for.”

“I’m not little,” You hiss, momentarily forgetting your initial plan.

“You are,” Bucky says again, with finality. “You just forgot how to feel it.”

You want to scream. You want to claw the bottle out of his hands and hurl it across the room. You know it won’t do you any good though if you’re trying to win their favor. So, instead, you reach for it. Bucky pulls it away from your grasp before pressing it to your lips, clearly intent on feeding you. With no where to go and nothing more you can say, you start to drink slowly, burning with shame. The milk is sweet. Too sweet. It fills your mouth with warmth that you almost hate yourself for liking.

Steve adjusts his hold, cradling you while you drink. Bucky wipes a smear of milk from your chin with a napkin like you’re two years old.

You don’t resist. Because that’s the only power you have left, to choose not to fight. To pretend. To outlast. They want a little? They’ll get one. And though it may be hell, you remind yourself it will be worth it when you get that chance to run and chase after that true freedom. Until that can happen, you hope you won’t succumb before then.

Caged in Comfort (Pt. 1)

Summary: Though your life was not perfect, it was familiar. There was routine. A system in place. You practically grew up there all your life. So, when two super soldiers take you away from it all, how do they expect a lab experiment to react?

Warnings/Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Dark Stucky. Age Regression. Not forced age regression yet, but heavily implied. Kidnapping . References to Labs. Lots of dialogue. Reader cries/panics. Stockholm Syndrome in the future likely.

Word Count: 1400+

A/N: As I say, if I can’t find a fic like it, I’ll just write it. Maybe you’ll like it too. Please read the warnings though. You are responsible for the media you consume. Also, let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Caged in Comfort Masterlist | Next

You wake with a jolt.

The air feels too still. Too clean. There’s something wrong. Your body’s stiff, your wrists ache, though they’re no longer bound. The sheets smell like detergent and lavender, not the cold metal and chemicals you were used to. You’re not in the lab. But this doesn’t seem like freedom.

You don’t move at first. You listen.

There are voices. Male. Muffled.

“She’s still sleeping?” One asks, firm yet laced with a hint of concern. It unsettles something deep in your gut.

“She’s just tired,” Says another. This voice is lower, rougher, but not unkind. “She’s been through a lot.”

You bolt upright.

The room is soft, painfully soft. Pastel walls, gentle lighting, plush toys sitting on shelves like they belong to someone half your age. There’s a rocking chair in the corner. The window is shut. There are no locks on the door, but that doesn’t mean you’re free.

You scramble back against the headboard, heart slamming in your chest.

Footsteps approach.

The door opens slowly, and you see them.

Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

You know them. Not personally, you would have never imagined ever encountering them, not like this, but you know. They’re supposed to be heroes. But the way they’re looking at you now, like they already own you. It sends panic twisting in your stomach.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says quickly, raising his hands like you’re a frightened animal. “Easy, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

“No,” You breathe, barely audible. Your form is shaking now. “No, I don’t—this isn’t—where am I?”

Bucky takes a step closer, voice calm. Almost too calm. Like he has rehearsed this. "You’re home now. This is your room. We brought you here because the people who had you before? They didn’t take care of you. But we will.”

You stare at him. Then at Steve. “You kidnapped me.”

Steve frowns, as if the word offends him. “We rescued you.”

Your hands clutch the edge of the blanket like it’s the only thing grounding you. “I don’t know you. I want to leave.” Your words came out in a hurried manner as your eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for something. A way out? An exit? Anything will do at this point.

“You don’t need to leave,” Bucky says, slowly kneeling beside the bed like you’re a scared child. “You’re safe now. We’re gonna take care of you. Feed you. Keep you warm. No more experiments. No more pain.”

You shake your head, the pressure building behind your eyes. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“But we have decided,” Steve replies, still gentle. “You’re our little girl now. You just don’t remember what that feels like yet. But you will.”

“I’m not yours!” You shout, whether it be the conditioning or the fear breaking through. Your voice is sharp, almost shrill. “Let me go!”

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t flinch. Neither of them do. They probably expected this. They simply look at you with something terrifying in their eyes. Not anger, not cruelty. But love. Warped, dangerous love.

“You’re scared. And that’s okay,” Steve says softly, stepping toward you. “New littles always are at first. But we’ll teach you. You don’t have to be strong anymore. You can let go.”

“I don’t want to let go,” You whisper. You don’t even know what that truly means. If you even know how to.

“But you need to,” Bucky says. “And it’s okay now. That’s why we’re here. To love you when you can’t love yourself. To hold you when it’s too much.”

You try to run.

You throw the blanket off and jump from the bed, but your legs are weak, your body too drained. Steve catches you instantly with ease before your body can hit the ground. He doesn’t hurt you. That almost makes it worse. He just holds you, firm and warm, like you’re something fragile. Like a child.

“Shhh,” He soothes into your hair. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby girl.”

“No, no, no—” You fight, your voice breaking. “Don’t call me that. I’m not—!”

“You’re tired,” Bucky says firmly, yet still moves closer to stroke your back. “That’s all. Sleep a little. You’ll feel better. It gets easier.” The order comes out easy for him.

You sob once, harsh and sudden.

Because some part of you, the smallest part, wants to believe them. And that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

You can’t stop the tears now.

They come fast, hot, humiliating. Your body shakes as you struggle in Steve’s hold, but he doesn’t let you go. He just sinks to the carpet with you in his lap, sitting back against the edge of the bed as if this is routine. As if this is normal.

“I want to go,” You choke out, the words ragged against the lump in your throat. You know you didn’t have many things before, but at least it wasn’t as confusing and disorientating as this. “I want to go home. Please…”

“This is your home now,” Bucky rises with a sigh. His arms now folded across his chest. His metal fingers twitch, not with aggression, but with restraint, like he’s holding himself back. “You’re not going anywhere. You weren’t safe there nor would you be safe out there. You know that.”

“I don’t know anything!” Your voice comes out sharply, snapping at him as you try to pull away from Steve again. However, he holds you tighter. Not hurting you, never hurting, just keeping. Containing. “You drugged me…Took me—”

Steve’s voice comes quiet against your ear. “You were shaking when we first saw you. Do you remember that? Curled up in the corner of that place? That wasn’t living. That was surviving. Barely.”

He rocks you a little as he speaks, a gentle back and forth that makes your stomach twist.

You didn’t remember. You didn’t know they were even there, watching you. How long were they watching you?

“You didn’t ask,” You whimper softly, trying to find any rebuttal you could.

“We didn’t need to,” Bucky says, crouching now, eye-level. His eyes are hard, but not cold. Just…sure. Certain of himself, of what they’ve done. “You belong here. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

“I don’t!” You cry out again, your voice cracking. “I’m not your little girl, I’m not—!”

“Sweetheart,” Steve soothes, rubbing slow circles into your back. “Shhh…I know it’s scary. I know your head’s telling you to fight. But you don’t have to anymore. Not here, not with us.”

You shake your head furiously, pressing your forehead into his chest to hide the tears, even though you hate how your body leans into the warmth. You don’t want to. You really don’t. But your resolve is starting to crack.

“I’m not little,” You mumble. “I’m not your baby.” Maybe if you repeat it enough times, it will come true. You know, deep down, it won’t.

“You are now,” Bucky says, simple and final.

You stiffen at his words, but Steve just hugs you closer, resting his chin gently atop your head like you’re something sacred. “He’s a bit blunt,” He murmurs. “But he loves you. We both do. So much already, baby.”

You start to tremble.

Because no one’s said that to you before. Not like this. Not without conditions or expectations or pain behind it.

You want to scream. You want to hit something. You want to run, even if your legs won’t carry you far.

But all you can do is sit there. Curled in the lap of a super soldier, a stranger, in a room that’s already been built for you like this was always going to happen.

Bucky rises again, slow, looming.

“I’ll bring her something to eat,” He says, turning toward the door. “Maybe that’ll help her accept us better when her stomach’s not empty.”

Steve hums in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky pauses at the doorway. He looks back at you, one last time. His eyes narrow, jaw tight. “You’re not a prisoner. But don’t try anything,” He warns. “We’ll be kind. But if you think we’ll let you bolt out into the night and end up back in some lab’s basement? Think again.”

Then he’s gone.

The door shuts behind him with a soft click.

You stay frozen in Steve’s arms, your breath shaking in your chest. He’s warm. He smells like soap and leather and safety you don’t trust. You feel so small, despite your rage. Despite your fear and confusion.

Steve hums again, that same soothing sound, like a lullaby without words. “You’ll get used to it,” He says gently, brushing a tear from your cheek. “The softness. The quiet. The being wanted.”

You don’t reply.

Because part of you doesn’t believe it. And the rest is afraid that you might start to.

But no matter how pleasant these two strangers try to spin it, you’ve simply moved from one cage to another.