#Aged-Up Steve Rogers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 7 months ago

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📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 4608

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Previously:

This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.

That afternoon, Steve completes a plethora of paperwork. He submits his recommendation for Bucky’s care, fills out a formal application for custody, and hands in his letter of resignation to Raynor.

He’s completely transparent with her about his intentions, and Christina isn’t just fair in her response: she seems downright pleased. She does call him a traitor for leaving Hydra, but she’s smirking when she says it, so Steve knows he’ll still be getting a stellar reference from her.

He is officially quitting, but Bucky’s still a patient on-ward—with all the services afforded one—for at least the next twenty-four hours. So to avoid interrupting his scheduled therapies and groups, Steve tries to keep himself busy, closing out his cases and saying goodbye to some of his more friendly coworkers. Hydra Sanatorium might not be the nicest or the most well-funded place, but for a county-run institution it’s always done the best it can with what it has for the people who come through its halls. Lord knows Steve has. After five years of working there, doing his best to help the people that he could, Steve hopes he made some sort of a difference. In one case, at least, he knows he has.

Later in the day, he goes looking for Bucky and finds him with the rest of his cohort in the soft room. A lot of the boys are napping, the rest of them engaged in various stimming activities. Steve doesn’t immediately spot Bucky, but the room attendant points him towards one of the nesting pods. When Steve pokes his head through the little circular opening into the cave-like space, sure enough there his boy is: nestled amongst an impressive collection of blankets, throws and pillows.

Inside it smells heavenly, Bucky’s scent built up in the air. All sexually mature omegas experience something called persistent genital arousal, or PGA. It can be more debilitating for some, and it’s definitely more intense at certain points of their cycles, but in general Steve’s heard it described as a low-level thrum of arousal—like what one might feel from touching themselves idly from over their underwear while watching mediocre porn. Essentially, omegas really do always have sex on the brain.

The resultant smell they give off is, of course, one easy identifying marker for any omega out in public, and Bucky is no exception. The nesting pod is already thick with his scent, sweet and cloying, and Steve finds himself breathing in deeply to get more of it as he crawls inside. He smiles when Bucky’s sleepy eyes peek open and register his presence. The boy is beautiful. “Hey,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky lets loose a huge yawn and stretches with a lazy smile, his hair all floofed in different directions and his eyes nothing but puffy, squinty slits. “Stteeeve,” he hums, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Mmm. C’mere.”

How could he ever resist? Steve crawls over and settles next to him, pulling their bodies close together. “Hey you.”

Bucky’s already purring as he wriggles up against him. “Mmm. Hi.” He shoves his face into Steve’s chest and rubs his cheek against his pec, scenting him. “I took’a nap.”

“I can see that.” Steve’s mood is already in the stratosphere, because he’s suffused with Bucky’s scent: happy, safe, content—and yes, mildly aroused—omega. It’s infectious, making Steve’s body respond with all of those same feelings and more. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, tucked into a tiny, warm nesting space with his omega.

“His” omega, because Steve’s already started thinking of him that way. The transition feels almost seamless, feels natural, like maybe Bucky was his long before he knew it. He rumbles in his chest to match the boy’s purr and holds him close. “Missed you,” he murmurs, speaking against the softness of his hair. “How’s your day been?”

They’ve only been apart for a few hours, but after the intensity of their morning together, Steve hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky’s wellbeing all day, even though he knows he’d left him in a good place, mentally. He’d made sure to bring him down from the high of their sensory session, had tenderly changed him and dressed him in warm, soft clothes, checked that his body’s lingering confusion from the therapy wasn’t anything that was going to cause him discomfort or distress during the day. He’d personally escorted him to his life skills group, kissing him on the cheek and promising to find him later, even watching from the doorway for a few long minutes until he could be certain that Bucky was relaxed and taking to the company of others well.

Now, in the safe confines of the nest, Steve kisses his hair again. “Good?”

Bucky does a happy little wiggle. “Mmm, good,” he mumbles, still seeking contact through the way he rubs himself against Steve’s body. “Missed you.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, like he’s stubbornly trying to dig himself a space inside of Steve. It’s adorable. Steve smiles and rubs his back. “Me too, Honey. I’ve been getting a lot of things sorted out, so that I can take care of you after today. If you want.”

Bucky peeks up at him. “‘If I want?’”

“Yeah.” He knows that this is a talk they need to have, now that Bucky’s sober and fully back in his head. Steve doesn’t think there’s a high chance that Bucky’s going to change his mind, but they still have to discuss it. Because Steve would be a bad person—and a garbage Alpha support—if he didn’t give him the chance to decide for himself now.

And he’s going to have to tell Bucky about the castration issue. As much as Steve hates it, he can’t deny the sheer medical facts. It’ll help Bucky. His body produces too much testosterone as it is, his testes given too much time to develop before he finally presented. They’ve always known that the elevated hormones are part of what contributes to Bucky’s aggression and his struggles. Steve takes a deep breath and forces composure into his voice. “So, my boss asked me to put in my recommendation for you.”

“Recommendation for what?”

“Um, since your folks signed over custody, the state is in charge of you now until you turn twenty-five. That is, unless you find an alpha guardian to take care of you in a personal capacity. But you know, Hydra isn’t really … it’s more of an acute care facility, right? So even if you didn’t have an Alpha, you’d still have to go somewhere else, like a group home or a treatment facility that’s geared toward longer term stays. My boss asked me to submit my assessment of what your needs are and where you should go. It’s called an ongoing care plan.”

In his arms, Bucky tenses up. “My ongoing care?” he repeats, uncertain.

“Yeah Honey.” Steve tries to smile reassuringly. “There are lots of places where you could go to live other than with me, if you wanted. Nice places.”

Bucky’s face crumples in distress and he keens lowly. “But I … I mean, I thought …” His lip trembles. “You changed your mind? Don’t you want me?”

“What?” Steve’s heart sinks at the way Bucky’s looking at him—as if he’s just revoked a promise Bucky had been counting on. “Oh, Honey,” he mourns, pulling him in close again. He cradles his head and kisses over his hair in apology. “No, no bub. I do want you. I was just trying to be fair and give you all of your options. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Didn’t want you to feel like you had to make that choice to go with me.”

It’s immediately obvious that his words calm Bucky down. The scent of distress dissipates as quickly as it had formed, and their dimly lit nesting pod is once again filled with nothing but cozy, happy omega pheromones. Bucky butts his head into Steve’s chest and grumbles at him for having scared him. “I always want to go with you, Steve. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Steve strokes his back. “Okay, okay. I understand.” His hands dip under the soft fabric of Bucky’s top, tracing up the vertebrae of his spine. It feels good to have the connection of their naked skin again. Steve hums and flushes, aware of his cock having a vague but growing interest. It’s all chubbed up in his briefs, tingling with a low level of arousal. And even though he has little intention of doing anything about it right now, it’s still nice to feel when he’s close to Bucky like this. He turns in towards him a little more, pressing him back and down into the nest with his bodyweight. The boy’s legs part for him on instinct and Steve hums, pleased. He slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and tucks his face into his neck. “I just want to make you happy, Buck,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to do anything other than what you really want. And if it takes you time to figure that out, then you’re allowed to take your time.”

“Nooo, Steeeve. I want you to be my Alpha. I don’t need to take time. S’stupid.”

Steve scoffs fondly. “Oh yeah?” He searches out the slight swell of Bucky’s bonding glands beneath the skin, closes his lips over the spot, and sucks. Bucky gives a surprised little ‘meep!’ of a sound, then pretty much melts full-body into the blankets. Steve chuckles. “There’s a lot that comes with that, you know. Having an Alpha you’re bonded to is different than just what we do here.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Like you said before, in the bathroom when my tummy was full. You said you could be my for-real Alpha.”

Steve kisses where he’d sucked, the spot now pinked and swollen. “Do you know what that means?” he whispers. “To have a for-real Alpha?” Bucky shivers pleasantly in response to the question, but Steve’s not just asking to get him worked up over it. “Buck,” he prods gently. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Means you’d be in charge a’ me,” Bucky sighs, his scent shifting as he grows more aroused. Beneath Steve, he squirms purposefully against the weight of his body. “I’d live with you, right?”

“Yeah. You’d come live with me and I’d be in charge of you.” Steve nuzzles against him, not missing the way that Bucky’s breath catches in a tiny little sound of pleasure. “Hey now, you might not always like that.” He playfully nips his skin. “There might be times when you’re mad as a hornet at me. That won't change anything. I’ll still be your Alpha. You’ll still have to listen.”

“... Could I still call you Daddy?”

Steve groans and turns his face away from Bucky's neck while the omega giggles at his reaction. “Yeah, Buck. You could.”

“Mmm, and you’ll still call me bub?” he asks, looking up with shining eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “I um … I kinda always liked that you called me that. Even back when I was new and mean to you and stuff.”

Steve smiles tenderly at him. “I know, bub. That’s why I always did.” He kisses him softly, just once, on the lips. The first time he’s ever let himself do so.

Bucky’s wide-eyed by the time Steve pulls back, looking like a whole new world of possibilities has just been opened up to him. “Oh, man,” he breathes. “Do we get to have sex whenever we want?”

Steve laughs, taken aback. “Buck,” he scolds, but he’s already dipping back down to kiss him again. “Yes. Though I do have to keep a day job, so you can’t go full-on nymphomaniac on me.” Bucky whines and Steve kisses back down to his neck and seals his lips over his tender glands to suck some more. “Mmm, you’re swollen here, Honey,” he murmurs, kissing the spot, thinking that he’ll have to check the kid’s chart to see if he’s nearing estrus. It’d make sense, given how reactive he’s been lately. And, oh god, they’ll definitely need birth control. Steve would love to breed Bucky up, but that’s not something they should take lightly. It’s too soon to pup him, not when so much else is in flux, and Steve still needs to tackle the castration issue with him. There’s a lot to be done. Everything is changing. Steve sucks hard on his glands in one, long pull.

“Oohh,” Bucky moans, both hands coming up to run through Steve’s hair. “Oh, S-steve. Mmm. That feels so good.” He hitches his leg up higher on Steve’s hip, rocking against him, and Steve indulges him by driving his thigh forward to give him more firmness to grind on. Bucky whimpers and jerks. “Oh!”

“Mm hm.” Steve gently scrapes his teeth over the swollen spot on his neck. “I’ll need to bond you, if you’re living in my household long term.”

Bucky whimpers and nods, hips shoving up harder at the feeling of the alpha’s mouth on his glands. “Okay,” he gasps. “Yeah, Steve, do it. I'm ready.” His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he cranes his head further to the side, presenting himself for a bite.

Steve chuckles, the sound morphing into a groan at the end as he denies himself and moves his face away. “Mmm. Not right now, silly. You need to be in heat for that to stick.” He gives him a peck on the lips. “Besides, it’s supposed to be something special.”

“Special?”

“Mm hm.” It kind of breaks Steve’s heart that Bucky doesn’t know this, though he supposes the kid couldn’t possibly have had many positive exposures to A/o relationships, growing up with the family he did. Steve kisses him again, explaining, “We’ll make it nice. Relaxing. Bonding is something special we’ll do in private.” They may currently be sequestered in this dark little space, but Steve sure doesn’t count a communal nesting pod in a state-run Sanatorium to be the appropriate place for such an important, intimate act.

He crawls off of Bucky and moves over to the side, sitting up in the mounds of soft nesting materials with his back against the pod’s wall. “C’mere.”

Bucky happily crawls over to sit in his lap. He straddles him, and Steve’s hands settle at his hips. Steve smiles at the bright teal clothes the kid is wearing now. After their sensory session that morning, he’d helped Bucky to get changed, and teal pants with a tangerine top was what the omega had wanted to wear. “All these years of navy blue,” Steve teases. “And it was just you being stubborn, huh?”

Bucky huffs and squirms, but he doesn’t deny it. “I always liked the colorful ones. I just never picked ‘em because I … I didn’t want to be this way,” he admits softly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t want to be just another omega. Dumb and drooling in my rainbow patterned sweatsuits.”

“Bucky,” Steve chides. “That’s not nice. The other boys on-ward don’t deserve that kind of talk, do they? ”

Bucky flushes and looks away. “No,” he mumbles. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

Steve sighs. Just because Bucky wants to be with him doesn’t mean that the kid’s suddenly going to be well-adjusted. He's got so much internalized omegaphobia from being raised by his asshole parents, it isn't even funny. Steve gives his waist a squeeze and tells him, “Hey: you’re still going to have to go to some therapy, bub. I hope you realize that. Just because you’re leaving here doesn’t mean there won’t be rules and discipline. It doesn’t mean you don’t still have issues you need to work on.”

Bucky grumps about that a little, but eventually he nods his head in understanding. “What rules?” he asks shyly. “‘Discipline’?”

“Mmhm. That mean consequences if you act up. I’ll never be harsh with you, Honey, but being someone’s Alpha also means correcting their misbehavior.”

“Like … like spanking?”

“It could be, yeah.” Steve personally believes in gentle domestic discipline for omegas, so long as it’s administered fairly. He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully. “How does that make you feel, hm? If you knew you might get spanked if you did wrong?”

Bucky squirms a little in his lap before he’ll admit, “I dunno. Maybe embarrassed but … kinda nice, too.”

Steve tilts his head to try and catch Bucky’s eyes. “Nice?” he prods.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Bucky pouts and shrugs. “I dunno. I guess it just, um … it makes it seem like you care about me. Like you’re enjoying takin’ care of me.”

Steve’s heart warms, and he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I do, baby. I care about you a whole lot, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky sits there thinking it over, sucking his lip into his mouth and releasing it repeatedly. “What are the rules gonna be?”

“Oh, well … I don't know them all yet, but we'll figure it out. Just be good in general, I guess. Don’t make messes, don’t be rude to people, listen to what I tell you to do. That sort of stuff. My place is in Flatbush, not too far from here. You’ll have to be good, stay there when I go to work. I’m looking at changing jobs, so we might have some time together to start off at first, but then you’ll need to mind yourself when I’m away.”

"I'll be good," Bucky promises, sounding adorably determined. It makes Steve smile.

"I know, bub." He strokes the side of Bucky’s head, running his fingers through the soft curls that he’s come to love so much. “We’ll make you an area in the apartment to nest up real nice, just the way you like it. And I can get some stimming tools if you need ‘em, for during the day. I don’t want to see you ignoring your needs like you have been.” At Bucky’s hips, he digs his fingers in meaningfully, crinkling the plastic of the diaper beneath. “And these,” he says, arching a knowing eyebrow when Bucky peeks up at him. “You still need to wear them.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does eventually give a reluctant nod. “I know,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t gonna argue about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm mn.” He’s blushing and avoidant, bites his lip and tries to wiggle away, but stills when Steve holds fast. He sighs. “I mean I guess I don’t hate ‘em so much.”

“No?”

“Mmn. Not … not when it’s just in private,” he admits. “Sometimes they even make me feel kinda, I dunno, kinda safe. … And when you take care of me with ‘em. That part feels really good.”

Jesus. Steve grips him harder and rumbles deep in his chest, praising him for his honesty. “That’s good, Honey. That’s what they’re for.”

Bucky’s physical level of need for the diapers isn’t actually all that high. He has the same small, spastic bladder that most omegas do, and he suffers from the typical pattern of stress incontinence. Most of his wetting occurs when he’s upset, aroused, or asleep. He could feasibly attempt daily life without them, though accidents would happen. But beyond the practical, it’s the emotional impact of wetting that’s so huge for someone like Bucky. That’s why consistent diapering has always been part of his therapeutic program at Hydra. It’s one routine that Steve intends to maintain once he’s got Bucky home and living with him. “It’s nothing to be worried over,” he reminds gently. “Remember what we talked about?”

Bucky sniffles and nods. “... S’normal,” he recites, voice tiny. “Lots of omegas wear ‘em.”

“That’s right,” Steve praises. “And Alphas don’t care. We like taking care of you. We like seeing you feeling safe, and knowing when it feels good for you.” He sees the color rise in Bucky’s cheeks and hums knowingly. “It’s okay when you enjoy the feeling, bub. Like how you did this morning? That’s totally okay.” Bucky whines and squirms a little, and Steve shushes him. “Hey now: I mean it.”

He uses his grip on Bucky’s hips to rock him in his lap a little, and Bucky squeaks and grabs onto his shoulders, pushing into the motion reactively before he can shame himself out of it. Steve hums, pleased. He leans in and takes Bucky's mouth in another, coaxing kiss. That seems to be the key to disarming the boy. He moans and gives another uninhibited roll of his hips. He keeps going, grinding against Steve’s crotch and panting quietly.

Steve smiles and holds him while he rocks. Ever since he ducked into the nest, he’s been able to smell the general level of arousal that Bucky always carries with him. But now it’s heavier, the distinct scent of new slick and a more urgent sort of need coming to the forefront. All Steve’s talk of discipline and acceptance and care has gotten Bucky worked up. He hums encouragingly as the omega stims himself against his lap. “Aw, Sweetie. There you go. That feel good?”

“Ah, uh huh,” Bucky pants quietly, eyes going a little muzzy as he starts to lose focus. “Oh, Steve, ff-feels good, nnngh …”

“Good. That’s all I want, honey. Just want you to be happy and feel so good. Don’t need to worry about a thing, okay? Cause I’m your Alpha and I like you just like this. Rocking in my lap, doing what feels nice, just being a sweet n’ happy omega for me.”

Bucky chirps in a way that he rarely does, his hips juddering forward hard. “Oh! Steve I … I have to …” He squeaks and tosses forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck and whining plaintively.

Steve tuts and wraps his arms around him, still guiding him in the rocking motion. “What’s up, bub, huh? You have to go?”

Bucky nods fast against his shoulder. “Nnn! But, but …” He shakes his head back and forth, trying to fight it. “Nngh …”

“Okay, okay Honey. You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Steve wraps his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and grabs him in a firm scruff. He slides it up into his hair and pulls, using his grip to guide him back a little. Bucky yelps and meets him with wide eyes. “Shhhh,” Steve hushes, shoving his other hand down inside the front of Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. “It’s okay, bub,” he soothes, hand cupping the bulk of the padding and rubbing. “I know you just don’t get it. And this is me showin’ you. Cause I’m gonna keep you right here, and I’m not moving my hand until you let go for me.”

Really, he’s sure he’ll have Bucky naked and straight up wetting in the middle of sex in the very near future, but for now this’ll do. They are still in the hospital, after all, and this is still a communal nesting pod they’re in. If nothing else, Steve knows that the orderlies would not appreciate the mess.

Bucky gulps in a huge shaky breath and nods frantically, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he gets overwhelmed. “Okay, okay,” he pants, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders fiercely while his squirming gets frantic. “Oh god, S-ssteve …”

Steve kisses his forehead, murmuring non stop praise and love at him. Finally, Bucky tenses up and goes stock still. “Theere it is,” Steve coaxes, jostling his hand as he feels the warmth start to spread. Bucky moans and loses control completely, going limp as a noodle against Steve’s front and panting as he loses control. “Good boy.” Steve keeps murmuring it against his skin, giving pulses on the swollen crotch of the diaper with one hand and petting up and down his back with the other. “Good boy. That’s my good boy, Bucky. So good.”

Bucky doesn’t go all embarrassed, after. He stays a little dazed, in his head, chirping and humming at Steve when he encourages him to come out of the nest. They walk together to the bathroom, and Bucky does speak on and off when prompted; little 'yeah's and 'no's' and ‘okay’s. So he’s not quite non-verbal, and he’s definitely not in a fugue or a fit of any sort. No. He’s just a soft, contented, aroused ball of very happy omega.

In the bathroom on the changing bed, Steve is hardly surprised to find a pool of slick and a chubbed up little cock underneath the diaper. “Would you look at that,” he chuckles, going about cleaning him up. Bucky starts to whimper afterwards as he’s lying there, clean but exposed and untouched. “Please,” he begs, proving that he can, in fact, speak. “Please Steve?”

“Of course, Honey.” He wasn’t planning on denying him, poor thing. Steve smooths his hands over Bucky’s inner thighs, right up to the crease of his groin. He brushes his fingers over his half hard penis, back and forth a few times, just teasing it lightly. “How do you want me to make you cum?” he asks, only anticipating that Bucky will either ask him to touch his cocklet or else use penetration. He is not prepared for the kid’s breathless request of,

“Suck me, please.”

He freezes, taken aback. Oral sex—giving or receiving—is not permitted between Alpha Supports and their patients on the ward. Steve’s not precisely sure why, when digital and device-aided penetration is done every single day, but at some point in history, some guy writing the rules drew the line at oral. Anything that could be easily twisted to gratify the Alpha support rather than the omega patient is strictly forbidden. Steve has actually never given head to an omega before—patient or otherwise.

But he’s suddenly, achingly hard at the thought of doing so. “Oh, Honey ...” he hedges. “I don't know if ...” He grimaces at the pleading look on Bucky’s face, the anxious, wanting pinch in his brow, and finds himself throwing all his reservations aside. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s been professional long enough. Bucky’s going to be his by this time tomorrow, anyways. “Okay, Baby,” he says, giving in and rubbing over the boy’s belly with one hand. “Okay. You want that? Want to feel Daddy’s mouth on your sweet prick?”

Bucky keens and nods, “Yeah, please.”

“You ask so sweet,” Steve praises, sinking down his body, trailing kisses from his neck to his chest, down to his belly and the base of the sweet little cocklet he’s got between his legs. Steve tells him how pretty it is as he kisses it, mouthing over the softness. It’s only half hard, never really getting rigid, but it's still more to play with than the average omega has. Steve pulls him into his mouth and sucks until he gets an orgasm out of him. Bucky shudders hugely, his little prick squirting a tiny bit of useless seminal fluid, but nothing more. Steve pulls off, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly as he comes down from it. “Good?” he asks.

Bucky shudders and nods, smiling dreamily. “Thank you, Alpha,” he breathes. “We can do that all the time?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Honey. There’s nothing off limits anymore once I take you home with me. You can touch me and ask me to touch you any way you like. Whatever you’re curious about.” Steve is well aware that, outside of his treatment on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced. There’ll be a lot of firsts, once Steve brings him home.

Bucky's eyes have slipped closed, and Steve takes a moment to stare. He pets his belly, trailing his hand down to the boy’s wet little cock and further down to his balls. He plays with the soft skin, considering him. Bucky’s shrunk up some in the past three years, but he’s still bigger than he should be. Steve imagines what he’ll look like, after the procedure. There’ll be a bare space there, room to press and stimulate him. Steve's never had much of a preference with male omegas, finding both the little pocket of looser skin left after a castration and the tiny, coin purse sac of an intact omega to be attractive, in their own ways. But he can’t deny that he likes the aesthetics of a cut omega.

“Bucky?” he says softly. “There’s something I have to talk with you about, something we’re gonna have to do eventually. And I don’t want you to be scared, so hear me out, okay?” He waits until Bucky opens his eyes, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

Steve cups his sac and rubs it gently. “Here,” he murmurs. “You’ll need to have these removed, Sweetheart. Do you know about that?”

Bucky tenses. “What? N-no,” he looks pleadingly up at Steve. “Why?!”

“It’s something they’ve had written down in your chart for a while,” Steve admits. “I’ve avoided bringing it up until now. We had more short term parts of your treatment plan to work on, and I didn’t want to upset you. But I’m going to bond you, Sweetheart, and I gotta take care of you. This is what all your doctors have been recommending.”

Bucky keens miserably. “I don’t want to. Please. Please don’t make me.”

Steve hushes him, rubbing his belly and cupping his balls. “It’s such a simple procedure, Sweetheart. Lots of omegas are cut. Your body had a little too much time to develop. Remember how we talked about that?”

Bucky whimpers and nods uncertainly. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re bigger than most omegas down here,” Steve tells him gently. “Your body’s making hormones that you don’t need. It gets you all confused. That’s part of what makes you get so angry sometimes.”

Bucky whimpers. “Will it hurt?” he asks tearfully.

It’s such a naive question that it makes Steve’s heart ache. “No, Honey,” he soothes. “Not very much at all. You’ll just go to sleep while they do it. And then you’ll have nice pain medicine to keep you comfy while you heal. We’ll get you nested up at home. You’ll probably sleep a lot. You can watch movies and eat as much ice cream as you want,” he coaxes. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bucky sniffles. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know, I know. It’s new and scary, but it’ll be so simple, I promise. I’ll be right there to take care of you, okay?”

Bucky sniffles for a few more minutes, but then he nods meekly, giving in. “Okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be with me the whole time?”

Steve bends down to kiss him. “The whole time,” he assures. “You’re such a good boy, Bucky. It’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to nod this time, and Steve rumbles low in his chest, pleased. “Good boy,” he praises. “Once you’re healed it’ll feel nice,” he promises. “You’ll have an easier time getting pleasure from here.” He touches Bucky’s hole gently, circling the rim. “Release will be easier.”

Bucky’s still nervous, Steve can smell it on him. But he calms down enough for Steve to get him in a fresh diaper and dressed again. He can hardly believe the conversation went the way it did. If Steve had attempted to talk about this during Bucky's last stay on-ward, he's nearly positive he would've had a meltdown on his hands. But Bucky accepted it so easily.

“So proud of you, bub,” he praises. “Come on. Let’s go get you some lunch, huh?”

By four fifty, he’s said goodnight to Bucky and promised to be back the very next day, when he’ll see him discharged from his stay on-ward and bring him home. He clocks out and takes the train to a specialty omega shop up in Queens, where, along with a bunch of nesting supplies, he purchases Bucky a nice collar to go home in. It’s pricey and has all the bells and whistles, from inflation features and removable D rings, to insertable scent chambers and a GPS locator. Steve figures he must really be giving off the 'new Alpha' vibe, because the saleswoman smiles at him indulgently and says “congratulations” as she’s ringing up his purchases.

"Oh. Thanks." He blushes and tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but wind up beaming anyway.

At home he takes the tags off all of the purchases and sets them aside tidy and ready for Bucky, excited about how the kid will react when he sees his new things and gets to experience someone taking care of him properly and spoiling him for the first time in his life.

Geez, Steve thinks, by tomorrow he’s going to have an omega living with him. He feels giddy about it. Even with knowing Bucky’s personal issues surrounding his designation, Steve still isn’t worried. He cares so deeply for Bucky, loves him even, at this point. And he knows that no matter what obstacles they may face going forward, this is the best thing that he could do for the omega.

He flits about the apartment that evening, full of nervous energy but in a fantastic mood. He shoots off a few emails, one to Sam, inquiring about job possibilities at Shield or other local private practices. Even if there isn’t a position available at Sam’s firm, Steve is still very confident in his ability to find a new job. He’s got excellent qualifications, and omega healthcare is a chronically understaffed field. He’ll have to give up the role of support Alpha, though. At least in a sexual capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bucky through that, coming home each day smelling of other omegas. Steve couldn’t do that to him.

He tries to fill his evening up with distractions, but it’s hard. He surfs a few job boards half-assedly, scent marks the stuff he bought for Bucky, makes a microwave dinner that he can barely taste, and watches an episode of a show he’s been following. Nothing gets his mind off Bucky for long. He’s simply too elated and impatient for the next day to arrive. So when eleven P.M. rolls around and he’s still wired as fuck, he goes rooting through the medicine cabinet, downing four Benadryl tablets in an effort to get at least a modicum of sleep in for tomorrow.

Predictably, he wakes up earlier than usual. Rather than closing his eyes again until his alarm goes off, he forces himself to don sneakers and go for his usual morning run, pounding out a few extra miles because he’s got the time and because he needs to burn off some of this nervous energy. He goes back home, showers, changes. He heads for the Sanatorium with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a skip in his step.

God, he thinks as he keys into the hospital’s ground floor, the building really is ugly: very outdated, institutional, depressing. He’s gotten so used to it over the past five years. He’s glad that Bucky won’t ever have to come through its halls again.

Stanley isn’t at the security desk when he passes by, and Steve’s kind of glad, since for the first time in a long time he’s forgotten to grab their usual morning pastries. He leans through the security window and snatches his badge from the wall, heading for the elevators.

Raynor intercepts him at the double doors leading onto the ward, her mouth set in a grim line.

Instantly, Steve is on high alert, tension pulling through his body. “What happened?” he says, already panicking that something awful has happened to Bucky in the last sixteen hours. “Is he hurt?”

“No. His parents showed up. Come on.”

Steve’s guts sink and harden with dread, yet at the same time he doesn’t really have the chance to work himself into a true panic, because they’re on the move. Raynor marches straight to the conference room, inside of which they find a somber-faced orderly at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seated at the table, and Bucky huddled down over in the far corner, having a bit of a fit. Steve instantly recognizes it as another stress fugue, though thankfully it seems to be less severe than the one he’d found him in yesterday. He’s still got all his clothes on and he isn’t humping anything, so that’s a plus.

Steve hurries over and kneels down next to him. “Buck? Oh Buck, Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m right here with you, Baby. Please don’t cry.”

Bucky’s huddled on the floor, tearfully rocking in place, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand up at his face, sucking two of his fingers. Steve wipes his cheeks and kisses his forehead, heartstricken at seeing him so upset. “Shh sh sh, Honey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He remembers his backpack and slings it off his shoulder, unzipping it and dumping half its contents on the floor in search of the collar inside. He finds it and starts putting it on him, getting the buckle closed and the pressure points lined up with Bucky’s glands. “Can you get something for his mouth?” he tells the orderly at the door. The man nods with wide eyes and hurries out of the room. Steve finishes with the collar and fits the little air pump to its port, squeezing it until the pressure points in the lining have all inflated. Bucky’s breathing calms down considerably just from that. Steve rumbles low in his chest for him, giving him the sound of his Alpha’s approval. “Good boy,” he Voices, petting his face soothingly. “So good for me, bub.”

“Excuse me."

Steve looks back over his shoulder and meets George Barnes’ scowl with one of his own. “Be quiet,” he growls at him, making the man’s face go slack in sheer surprise. “Trust me, I’ll be right with you,” Steve grits. Turning back, he continues to murmur quiet, comforting words for Bucky to hear and latch onto; telling him how he’s right there and he’s not leaving, how he’s his Alpha and Bucky’s his omega and how they’re safe and good and everything is going to be just fine. Bucky whimpers and pushes himself closer to Steve, still crying sluggishly, but he’s non-verbal and even if he weren’t, he’s still got half his hand shoved into his mouth, his body’s reflexes in full gear as he tries to calm himself down.

Behind, Mrs. Barnes is complaining at her husband to “do something,” and Bucky registers her shrill voice and starts to rock a little harder. Steve winces as he sees the red indent of where Bucky’s started chewing on his fingers.

Luckily that’s when the orderly returns, and he hurries over to give Steve the suckling gag he’s brought. “Thanks,” Steve grunts, glad to see that the guy actually had the foresight to bring along a container of PheroGel for the thing. Steve exhales in relief and takes it from him. It'll help Bucky calm down. “Good thinking,” he mutters, maneuvering Bucky so that he can coax his hand away from his mouth and feed the rubber head of the gag past his lips instead. Bucky parts easily for it, accepting it with an anxious whine. “Shhh, there you go.” Steve velcros it in the back and checks the fit, then opens the valve and fills the chamber with the PheroGel.

Bucky makes a tiny, surprised sound when the taste reaches him, his cheeks hollowing as he returns to suckling instinctively. Steve smiles and encourages him. “That’s right. You just focus on that, okay?” He pets Bucky’s face and watches as he visibly calms down from the pressure of the collar and the feeling of something heavy and Alpha-scented in his mouth. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he soothes. “Just close your eyes and focus on how that feels. Can you do that for Alpha?” Bucky sniffles and nods tearfully, and Steve’s heart squeezes as he watches his eyelids start to droop closed. “Good boy,” he praises him once more. The gag is a slow suckle design, so Bucky should be able to keep using the pheromones to self-soothe while Steve works on dealing with the Barnes.

He’s enraged that they’re here at all. Steve fully intends to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Forcing himself to pull away from Bucky and stand, he’s stone faced by the time he turns around to face the Barnes. He walks over to stand across the conference table from them. They’re sitting side by side, but Steve doesn’t pull out a chair to join them. He locks his arms and leans with his hands braced on the back of a chair. “What are you doing here?” he says, letting his full displeasure come through in his voice.

For a second, both of the Barnes look a little bit intimidated. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last. George Barnes seems to recover some of his willpower and squares his shoulders to glower back at Steve. “We came to get him,” he snaps, sparing a disdainful glance towards the corner where Bucky is huddled. “We came to take him home and now they’re telling us we don’t have permission. ‘Permission’!”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s bullcrap. He’s our son!”

Steve smiles nastily at him. “Well unfortunately, Mr. Barnes, You signed paperwork relinquishing custody of him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. That was only a few days ago! We’ve changed our minds, so you just get him packed up or, er …” he glances back over at Bucky and winces in disgust when he sees his son: collared and rocking and stimming with the sucker strapped over his mouth. “Just get him ready to go. Take that crap off him. We’ve found somewhere to put him, and he’s coming with us.”

“‘Put him’?” Steve repeats, frowning.

“Yeah.” George raises his chin defiantly, looking every bit the asshole that he is. “Found out he’s actually worth somethin’, even like this.” At ‘this’, he casts another disdainful look in Bucky’s direction. “Milking center up in New Rochelle takes cases like him. Said they’ll pay six grand up front.”

Steve sees red so fast, he has to hold on tighter to the chair for a few seconds. “What?” he says, the word coming out quietly only because he’s so breathlessly fucking mad. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

George Barnes’ snide expression is more than enough of an answer. “At least he’ll be useful, not a leech on society.”

In his head, Steve hears Bucky’s tearful, bitter words from two days ago:

“Just a waste of hardworking people’s tax dollars!”

An unpleasant groaning sound meets his ears, before he figures out that it’s his own hands, stressing and warping the plastic backing of the chair. He pulls them away and glowers across the table at the other man. A fucking milking center, he fumes, wanting to pick the chair up and put it straight through George Barnes’ smug fucking face.

Because Steve’s been to those places, has been called in to evaluate the omegas housed in their custody. He’s seen the warehouse-sized rooms: filled with rows and rows of omegas, fat and sedated, restrained to benches and hooked up to machines, bred and fed and watered and hosed down in place, like animals.

Christina steps in, probably because she can sense that her employee is about to unleash imminent violence on their visitors. “Unfortunately, the law is clear in this matter,” she tells Mr. Barnes, as no-nonsense here as she is in any other situation. “You signed all legal rights to James over four days ago and you no longer have any say in his care. The hospital has full custody of him, and we’ve already approved a long-term guardian for him.”

“What?” George Barnes stands abruptly from his chair, sending it rolling back to thunk against the wall in his haste. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that! I’ll … I’ll get a judge. There’s no way you can just—”

“There’s every way we ‘can just’,” Steve growls, unable to restrain himself from being unprofessional at this point. Fuck it. He doesn’t work at Hydra anymore, so unlike in times past where he’s been forced to make nice with less than stellar parents, now he can say exactly what he’s thinking. “You are a piece of shit, garbage human being, who shouldn’t be allowed to raise a fucking dog let alone a child. I think that you should leave now. In fact I strongly advise it. Forget about ever seeing Bucky again—because you never will—and just be grateful that you got away with the level of abuse that you did for so many years without ever being charged in a court of law.”

George Barnes opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something pissy, but before he can, Steve tacks on:

“Oh, and in fact you should be very grateful that you did sign those papers when you did. Because if you hadn’t? You’d best believe I’d be making sure you’d lose custody of all your children before you ever got him back. Now why don’t you pick your jaw up off the floor, help your wife heft her sloppy ass out of that chair, and leave this place before you’re thrown out?”

Of all things, it’s the comment about Mrs. Barnes’s weight that fuels George Barnes into action. He gets alarmingly red in the face, and it’s to the background noise of his wife’s insulted screeches that he starts to come towards Steve (presumably with the intention of hitting him). But before he can so much as round the end of the conference table, Stanley is bursting through the door.

“Hold it! Not another move, Buster!”

At Stanley’s back, Rumlow is standing with his taser gun drawn and pointed right over Stanley’s head. It’s that sight which seems to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention, and he pulls back from where he’d been approaching Steve, hands raised and gesturing for his wife to get up, too. “Alright, alright. We’re coming. Geez.”

“Sure you were.” Stanley sports his tough guy face, proud of himself, and ushers the Barnes into the hallway. Steve’s opinion of Rumlow inches marginally higher when he sees him hurriedly holster his weapon and step back, so that Stanley doesn’t realize he’d had a little bit of backup, there.

With the Barnes led away, Steve returns all of his attention to Bucky. The tension of this confrontation seems to have had surprisingly little impact on him, and Steve is especially pleased when he sees that the orderly had at some point managed to get both a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on Bucky as well. With the positive stimulus of the collar and gag, he’s much calmer. Steve hurriedly takes the headphones and blindfold off, followed by the gag. “Hey, hey baby.” He’s petting all over Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression and scent the state he’s in now. He’s surprised when Bucky blinks a few times and then looks up at him with clear eyes.

“Steve,” he breathes.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You don’t have to go with them. You’re safe. You got your words back?”

Bucky blinks some more, looking between Steve and the place where his parents had been sitting at the conference table. “... They can’t take me, right?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Buck. That’s right. They can’t. They legally can’t.”

Slowly, Bucky’s expression starts to brighten. He smiles. “But you can take me,” he says hopefully. “To live with you. Because you’re my Alpha now, right? And I’m your omega?”

Steve doesn’t even think of propriety, he just leans in and kisses Bucky straight on the mouth. Bucky’s lips are so soft, and he whimpers and responds so eagerly. Steve forces himself to pull back before he can get carried away. “Yeah, bub,” he says happily, trying not to get emotional in front of Raynor. “Yeah. You’re my omega now.”

In reality, they’ve probably got close to a half day’s worth of paperwork and consent-confirming counselling sessions ahead of them. But in the way that Bucky’s asking about? Yeah. They already belong to each other.

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evansbby · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air. It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

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