Steve Rogers X Oc - Blog Posts

Love Language - Steve Rogers

Words of Affirmation

Steve feels everything deeply and he’s not shy about expressing it. 

He likes saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him. 

He comes from a time where letters and the spoken word mattered and he will always carry that with him and use it in his relationship with you. 

Even though it’s old fashioned, he writes you love letters. 

You adore his beautiful written letters and keep them in a box, looking through them often because his words are so beautiful. 

He always writes little handwritten notes for you. 

He will listen when you tell him something you learned and he will just stare in awe. 

“I love how your mind works.” 

If he does end up staying in bed with you until you wake, “You are my favorite part of my day.” 

It doesn’t matter what you wear, he’s complimenting you. 

Just wearing his oversized shirt, “You look amazing in my clothes.” 

Wearing a tank top and jeans, “You are beautiful.” 

In a fancy dress for one of Tony’s parties, “Wow. I -uh. Wow. You…you’re so gorgeous. I can’t believe how I got so lucky.” 

He makes big proclamations of love. 

“You are my person. Always have been. Always will.” 

“You are the love of my life. I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” 

At the end of the day, he is a big communicator and loves to tell you how you make him feel and wants to make you feel special because in his eyes, you are.

Steve Rogers x Witch Practitioner

He is super respectful of the belief system you go with. 

He’s a curious boy and asks questions, and asks how he can be respectful of everything. 

He collects little rocks for you on his morning runs. 

Ask if he can put little knick knacks on any of the altars. 

Saves any jars he uses. He even purposely buys the grocery stores that come in glass containers so he can wash them out and use them when he’s done. 

He loves and consents to any magic you want to do on him. 

He tries to remember what all your sigils mean. 

“Honey, what does this symbol mean again?” 

Her whole place smells like Florida Water. 

She enchants his dog tags for protection. 

He notices that she mutters things when she is making food or stirring his drink. 

He cannot drink coffee unless she makes it, she enchants his coffee and it never tastes better and it gives him more energy. 

Since he’s awake before the sun rises for his runs, he brings in her moon water before it gets ruined by the sun. 

“Did you buy another herb plant?” 

"Why is there is salt in the doorway?"

At the end of the day he doesn't mind what you do and he will even encourage you in your craft.

Steve Rogers x Latina Woman

Golden retriever boyfriend that’s happy to be included in things. 

Asks you so many questions. 

Food! It's his favorite thing that she does!

Loves your cooking and that you serve so much food at a time, even with his super soldier metabolism he gets stuffed and given a second plate. 

Loves enchiladas. He always says “it has more flavor than anything I’ve ever had” 

I swear all he wants is your food and your kisses. 

He almost cried one day coming home from a horrible mission and seeing a table full of food. 

Loves the food and watches you cook while asking what things are. 

“Honey, what is this?” “What’s this spice?” 

Genuinely confused that you make nopal. “You eat… cactus?” 

Crying heavily but still eating, “Why is this so spicy?” 

Actually believes the tower was under attack when you were cooking chilis 

Gets scared when you start yelling in Spanish, literally looks like a kicked puppy. 

You call him “lindo”.  

He melts when you tell him, “Que lindo” 

hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared

I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE

bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words

MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION

MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS

“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”

You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity. 

Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony. 

You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin. 

The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind. 

The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.

You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive. 

If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did. 

However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.

“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.

The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom. 

You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.  

His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.

“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”

He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam. 

Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.

Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it. 

His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you. 

Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.

“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do. 

His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.

 The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode. 

“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.

“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly. 

“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life. 

Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car. 

“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame. 

“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf. 

‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones? 

No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”

With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.

Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.

Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day. 

The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you. 

Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.

“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear. 

Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly. 

In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched. 

“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass. 

Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.

“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.

“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating. 

His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.  

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach. 

Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.

“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words. 

“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.

Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision. 

“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world. 

“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”

Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?

You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.

He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.

The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.

“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.

End.

✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡

hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared

I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE

bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words

MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION

MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS

“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”

You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity. 

Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony. 

You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin. 

The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind. 

The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.

You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive. 

If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did. 

However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.

“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.

The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom. 

You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.  

His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.

“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”

He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam. 

Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.

Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it. 

His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you. 

Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.

“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do. 

His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.

 The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode. 

“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.

“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly. 

“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life. 

Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car. 

“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame. 

“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf. 

‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones? 

No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”

With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.

Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.

Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day. 

The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you. 

Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.

“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear. 

Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly. 

In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched. 

“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass. 

Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.

“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.

“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating. 

His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.  

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach. 

Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.

“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words. 

“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.

Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision. 

“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world. 

“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”

Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?

You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.

He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.

The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.

“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.

End.

✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡