#make america's fate
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I feel like every US election I am forced to learn something new and stupidly exploitable by facists about how their voting system works.
Why the fuck do you need to sign your ballots? And what is the fucking point if you then also need to "cure" your ballot by calling up to confirm that yes actually that is your signature even if it doesn't exactly match the sample signature your state has for comparison because handwriting can fucking change for a multitude of reasons?
Literally only seems to be a thing for the purposes of making it possible to arbitrarily throw out however many votes the state wants to ensure they get their outcome. Which... does anyone really believe a country is a democracy if that can happen?
#chirping wren#us politics#america is a hellscape#its a shame the country has so many beautiful places to visit that i will just never see#because who tf wants to risk going to a place with such an overtly hostile and corrupt government?#best of luck to the people forced by fate to live there#i hope they have the persistence to make it more liveable for their great grandkids step by tiny step#best of luck to my own country and others like it that keep getting sucked deeper into the black hole that is diplomatic ties with america#i hope we have the persistence to fix our own problems instead of following the path america blazed
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miro playing one liiga season with roope, then one without, deciding that’s enough, and IMMEDIATELY afterwards following him to texas
#this song has been stuck in my head . bc i’m gay. and i always am thinking abt Them during this part!!!#chasing his ass to america#not even a full season apart.#we do need to acknowledge a world in which miro is actually secretly soooo obsessive over that man#drw fan when fedorov looks sooo much like roope….. would only talk to him from the team when he got drafted….#hot older teammate narratives#moving into the same building! girl!#and making it so u have to be fated lovers or whatever…. hm#424#yap yap yapping
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cough cough, so who is Alfred crush? Is it Mattie? Because they're not blood and there's no one as sexy as Alfred so... he's just his image
To my lil weird brain they are blood, therefore I don't ship them.
Though obv interpret how you wish. You do you fella!
#hey whatever floats ur boat make em brothers or dont ive chosen my fate im sticki g with half bros#therefore blood related#its a silly fandom to be a part of so fkn ppl can do whatever#mostly#hetalia#hws america#hws canada#ask meli
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I'm just gonna...
#idk how people go so bonkers over this pic#i dont even leave hate comments and i feel like i should be asking what i did wrong 😭#but i think some people may need this reminder#dont give them hate#dont give hate to the antis either#not worth it and probably wont change their mind regardless#being mean on behalf of skz doesnt make you or them any more attractive to ppl outside the fandom#including bystanders#we still have time to save ourselves from armys fate of a name of notoriety#im not asking us to be sane. that's an impossiblility. but please be humane in your insanity.#stray kids#skz#skz memes#skz stay#bang chan#hi chris how ya doin#if it helps i just thought of the fact that the pose looks like the old captain america meme
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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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one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.
the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.
like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.
but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.
so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.
i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?
but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?
sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?
and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.
nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.
the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!
and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.
#spilled ink#writeblr#i hope it is clear here that i actually very much care about equatorial countries#and that's part of what makes me so angry bc im like. climate refugees exist.#they've existed for a while!!!#and the reply is almost always ''should have thought about that before living on an island"#like fuck dude. do you need to like how people vote before ur like#your entire house shouldn't burn down each summer????#so many of these people make it their life to mock california that they think it's FUNNY#and im like. girl you should be fucking trembling. TEXAS??? ARE YOU LISTENING??#this is one of those times that like. i need to stress how fucking stupid it would be#to let trump win. bc he could have “reached across the aisle.” covid could have been#a MASSIVE commercial success. he has such a huge and bigoted and brainwashed following.#literally just a PR campaign called COWBOY UP and it's pictures of cowboys in bandanas#trump reinvisioned as the lone ranger fighting for the american people against covid. EASY SELL#and instead. companies bought him. it became political. it was not ''oh shit this is 1 enemy let's all be human''#it was ''you deserve to die.''#climate change should be GLOBAL. it should be like ''yeah i hate u but. we do all live here''#i don't have to LIKE my group members to do well on a team project bc we are ALL getting graded.#is that simple enough of an under-explaination lol
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can i request charles leclerc x singer!reader when reader is basically taylor swift and their relationship is like her and travis kelce 🥹🥹 also charles telling his fellow drivers but they dont believe him until THE taylor swift!reader is in the paddock kissing him
IF ITS NOT TOO MUCH HASSLE OFC
Charles Leclerc x pop star!Reader - Social Media AU
kymillman
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kymillman Y/N MAKES HER PADDOCK DEBUT
Miss Americana arrives at the Circuit of the Americas and receives no less fanfare than the drivers themselves. Y/N Y/L/N will be singing The Star-Spangled Banner before the race later today!
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leclercbae this was only posted two minutes ago and charles has already managed to like it? must be a new record even for him
enchantedtifosa the devil works hard but charles “y/n y/l/n’s biggest fan” leclerc works harder 🫡
leclercupdates did anyone else see the video of charles spotting y/n walking into the paddock as he was exiting the ferrari motorhome?
f1girlie he turned around to go back inside so fast that the automatic door didn’t even have time to open and he slammed his forehead into the glass 😭
scuderialeclerc charles is trying (and failing miserably) to hide that he’s fangirling harder than anyone has ever fangirled before
y/nupdates
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y/nupdates Y/N Y/L/N attending the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix as a guest of Scuderia Ferrari today
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lightsoutleclerc crossover of the freaking year
fearlessferrari decade
tifositwilight century
leclercmidnights millennium
f1wagupdates how crazy would it be if the rumors are true and y/n really is at the race because she’s dating charles?
mirrorballeclerc being delulu is the solulu but even my delulu has limits 😂
f1wagupdates well it seems that my delulu is actually trululu
f1wagupdates
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f1wagupdates This week one year ago, Charles Leclerc attended The Eras Tour as a fan just like the rest of us. Today, Charles Leclerc proudly kissed Y/N Y/L/N after winning the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. King of our hearts and king of manifesting 👑
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charles_leclerc what if i told you i’m a mastermind? and now you’re mine
yourusername what if i told you none of it was accidental? and the first night that you saw me i knew i wanted your body
charles_leclerc once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned
yourusername you and i ended up in the same room at the same time
f1wagupdates i have managed to run this account for five years without getting jealous but this might be my breaking point
tifositears god really saw how much pain ferrari was putting charles through and decided to make his biggest dream come true as an apology
formurrari he deserved it after 2023
charles_leclerc and i would suffer through another season of driving the SF-23 and every single horrible strategy call again if it meant getting to call y/n my own
yourusername i love you 🥹
charles_leclerc i love you more ❤️
yourusername i love you most 🫶
charles_leclerc i love you mostest 😘
landonorris OKAY WE GET IT
charles_leclerc be nice to me or i’ll tell y/n to take away your tickets to her next show
landonorris … carry on
pierregasly also king of never shutting up about his girlfriend
charles_leclerc and proud of it
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#social media au#charles leclerc#instagram au#instagram imagine#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#f1 instagram au#instagram edit#fake instagram#f1 fandom#formula 1#insta edit#f1blr#f1 edit
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Ghost legends in England: The "Grey Lady" of Weltham Manor has been sighted for six centuries. She's a lady wearing grey. Though Weltham Manor burnt down in 1904, she haunts the ruins, and is said to wail over her fate.
Ghost legends in Japan: The "Nails-Hand Lady" haunts schools in Japan. If you are in a bathroom and hear nails running along the other stall - stay still. The Nails-Hand Lady is coming for you. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll make you a Nails Hand Lady. If you say she's ugly, she'll kill you, with her nails in her hands. If you say you think all women are beautiful, she'll thank you for respecting women, before killing you, with her nails in her hands.
Ghost legends in America: The old bar in Icetown, Michigan gets cold sometimes, even when it's only -13F outside. This is theorized to be the previous owner, or perhaps the tragic victims of the incident in the early 1900s where the bar exploded and killed like fifty people, whose fates were not reported in any newspaper. Sometimes they lament their fate by tossing over ashtrays
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second chances
bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n, next-door-neighbor trope!)
you once came face-to-face with the winter soldier, will bucky barnes be any different?
word count: 1.6k. | no warnings
The Winter Soldier's face was etched into your mind since the day you'd seen him. It was one of those average days in New York, you'd just gone out for some shopping. Sometimes Avenger sightings were normal, but seeing Captain America in full sprint was a sure fire sign something was amiss. That was when the shooting began.
You were quick to move people, ducking them under tables, shooing them further up the street, making them take corners to evade the flying bullets. It was just an instinct, there were too many people who could get hurt.
Then, you saw him.
His face was covered by a mask, but that arm, his left arm! It was completely metal. That was one of the features you burned into your brain, along with his hair color, skin color, height. The pure adrenaline and fear had pushed you to stop, freeze in place, and memorize the man.
It was then you were ushered to move by the man you found out was The Falcon. You were safe, but the smoke, the bullets, the explosions, it was all muted and dull compared to The Winter Soldier.
Years had gone by, you'd been a victim to what they called The Blip. Five whole years had forced you to relocate to Brooklyn, some cheap ass apartment building you were sure was haunted. You'd been living there for five months, got some furniture, meet the neighbors, it was a place content with being home. The one aspect that kept you up was the empty apartment next to you. It had been rotting since you moved in, you wondered who would fill its void, make the place a home once more.
It didn't take more than those five months for your answer to appear. It was grocery day, a list in your pocket and your wallet in hand, you'd just stepped out the door. Turning around, there he was.
It had been so many years since that fateful day, but you knew that stance, the hair color, height, everything about him. Through a peek in his jacket, you saw the hint of metal.
It was obvious he knew what you were thinking. The way your breath was heavy, eyes widened, there was no way he didn't know exactly what was rushing though your mind. He opened his mouth, but you rushed down the hall before he could say anything. The elevator ride down was when it hit you; he was your neighbor.
It had taken a week and a half for Bucky to gather the courage to face you. That look in your eyes was pure fear, he knew it all too well. He'd checked his list a hundred times, but your name wasn't on it. Okay, maybe he'd done some light digging into you, just a quick ask of some of the neighbors and he learned your name. He'd never hurt you, but that also didn't mean you'd never encountered him, either.
White fur of his cat, Alpine, brushed between his legs. The cat stared at Bucky, giving a soft meow. Bucky sighed, scratching between her ears. "I know, girl." He sighed, "I just need to get it over with."
The walk to your next-door apartment felt like it took ages. Bucky felt himself ridden with guilt when he softly tapped his knuckles on the door.
With the chain lock still in place, the door was opened a crack. "What do you want?" Your voice came out quickly, but it was laced with fear.
"I just.. wanna say hi to my new neighbor?" Bucky hesitated. That wasn't what he had planned on saying.
The door closed, and Bucky almost turned away when he heard the familiar sound of the chain dropping. The door opened and you slipped your way through. "You want to say hi?" Your asked in disbelief.
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh arm. "Uh, yes. And, uh, apologize. I know- I know you know who I am, was. And uh, I'm not that guy anymore. It's really complicated-"
"I have time," Your response took him back. You were looking at him expectantly, your door now pushed wide open. "Are you gonna come in?"
Bucky's story was unlike any you'd ever heard. He spoke in such detail, starting from the forties to now. You'd given him some water, a soda for yourself as you sat on your couch, listening to his whole story. By the end, you felt such sympathy for the guy. He even went as far as to show you his little book (it broke your heart even more when you were told it was Steve's), amends he needed to make, movies and music he needed to see. There was a lot more to him than you expected. Much to both of your surprises, a friendship had blossomed that very day.
From that moment on, anytime Bucky would leave to go cross another name off his list, Alpine would stay at your place. You kept her company, fed her, gave her water, loved on her. Then, sometimes you found yourself missing her, so, naturally, you began going 'round Bucky's to play with her while he was home. Eventually, he began to stay around you both, watching tv or making dinner for the three of you.
Sooner or later, you had clothes at Bucky's apartment, and he kept som at yours, too. It was just friendly, of course. You just spent so much time together that it was natural to keep some belongings at each other's places.
The real change was the night you heard the loudest knocking, no, pounding, you'd ever heard on your door. The adrenaline left you jumping out of bed to go see what was happening. Throwing open the door, a disheveled, sweaty, and tearful Bucky stood, chest heaving as his hands gently grasped your face. His eyes met yours, scanning all over your face as you softly shushed him. You lead him into your apartment and laid him down in your bed. You sat next to him until he fell back asleep. He'd told you his nightmares were bad, but never this bad. It left you feeling guilty leaving him all alone in a bed he'd never been in. So, you slipped under the sheets next to him, just so he would feel a sense of comfort when he woke up.
Then that became the new normal for a few weeks. Anytime Bucky would have a nightmare, he'd slip into your bed with the key you'd given him after the second jumpscare of his fists colliding with your door.
The biggest change in your odd friendship was the night Bucky showed up at ten, before either of you had gone to sleep.
"Bucky?" You called from your spot on the couch, watching as he walked in, clad in his pajama pants and loose, grey tee-shirt. He didn't look panicked yet, you were confused why he was here so late, yet so early.
The soldier gave you a small smile, "Hi," You watched as he fumbled with his fingers, "I was wondering if I could stay? Didn't feel right bein' alone tonight." And so he stayed.
That's when the new habit began. Occasional nightmare-induced sleepovers turned into spending every night together, slowly merging to his apartment, too. You'd bring a book or your phone as Bucky would watch whatever was on tv quietly, sometimes he'd read too. Spending the night together became the new normal, you didn't know how you'd gone so far in your life without being with him like this.
Like what, though?
I mean, sure, you slept over together, he'd cook you both meals, you basically shared custody of his cat, shared apartments. But.. what? That wasn't something just friends did, but you'd never gone as far as to do anything people who were more than friends did either. So, you avoided him for approximately three days before Bucky had you cornered.
"Doll, where've you been?" Bucky asked. You could see it in his eyes, the hurt. "Been missin' you. I haven't seen you 'round, lately."
You gave him a small shrug, "Just been busy, Bucky." you answered.
Bucky knew your schedule like the back of his hand. In fact, he probably knew it better than his own. Unless something sudden or serious came up, there was no way you'd been that busy, unless..
"Why are you avoiding me?" The soldier questioned. "And don't lie to me, either. I know when you're lying."
The nerves crept up your spine as your mind raced through different answers to give him. "I've just been busy helping my aunt."
Bucky's eyebrow shot up, "Your aunt?"
"Yeah, my aunt."
"Which aunt?" Bucky questioned further, prying into your lie.
You felt your heart race, "My Aunt Leah,"
"The one who lives in Kentucky?" Bucky's face clearly showed he was not buying it.
"What are we, Buck?" You suddenly asked, feeling overwhelmed by his questions and your lie.
Bucky's face morphed into one of surprise, "What?" What did you mean, 'What are we?' You were his best friend, his everything. Wait, his everything? Bucky felt hopelessly stupid when he realized he'd never even acknowledged the fact that he could even like you.
"We sure as hell aren't just friends," You continued, "And I know for a fact that best friends don't sleep over every night, or eat every meal together, go shopping, watch movies," Your rant continued as you grilled into Bucky. "And I don't think I can keep going unless I'm yours,"
Your words had Bucky breathless, "Doll, 'course you're mine." Like a twist of fate, his words now held you breathless as you stared at the man, wide eyed. "I'm the stupid one, I should've made my intentions more clear from when I first started feeling more."
With a shake of your head, you gave Bucky a small smile, "You're not stupid, Buck."
"You wanna go get dinner tonight?" Bucky asked, "Officially as my girl, my treat."
A smile gleamed on your face, "I'd love nothing more."
#bucky barnes#marvel fic#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#marvel x reader#sebastain stan#sebastian stan x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fluff#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes
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The Bolter (part seven)
Steve Rogers x f!reader / Bucky Barnes x f!reader
synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?
in this chapter : Steve's visitors in the 1950s force him to accept the truth. The new Captain America drives a wedge in the reader's relationship with Bucky.
themes/warnings : pining, angst, Loki and Mobius featured
word count : 2k
main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist
The 1950s, seven months after Steve's arrival
You're not supposed to be here.
The sound of an old radio drifts lazily through the air, some crooner from a time long forgotten. Loki lingers behind Mobius in the living room, adjusting his coat with a smirk that practically drips with condescension. He's enjoying the storm of emotion on Steve's face.
"What do you mean?" The former Captain America asks.
Mobius and Loki exchange glances before Mobius steps forward, pulling out a small, metallic device that flickers with a strange light.
Mobius gets right into his explanation, gesturing to the TemPad, its holographic images flashing in front of Steve: timelines splitting, branches forming, collapsing under the careful pruning of the TVA.
Steve simply watches as the enormity of it sinks in. His world is crumbling around him yet again.
"What do you think you're doing here, Captain?" Loki drawls, his eyes glinting with an odd mix of amusement and sympathy. "Living the quiet life, are we? Playing house in the 1950s?"
Mobius sighs, ignoring Loki's taunts. "You know why we’re here, Steve. We came to bring you back. You weren’t meant to stay."
Steve’s eyes flicker with a brief flash of something – regret? Guilt? Or was that hope? He turns slightly, casting a glance at the quaint home he stands in, and then back at Mobius. "I made my decision."
"Yeah, you did," Loki interrupts, crossing his arms as he sizes up the man in front of him. "And look where that’s gotten you. Hiding out in a time that doesn’t belong to you."
Steve’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening. He can feel the accusation hanging in the air, too familiar, too true. But he keeps his voice steady, his shoulders stiff. "I came back to claim what I deserve."
Mobius steps closer, his voice softer now. "While I understand that, Steve... Right now, you’re living in the past – a time which was never meant to be your present."
Steve says nothing. The truth is a splinter lodged in his chest, one that’s been festering since he first stepped into this world that wasn’t his. Because it wasn’t really about Peggy anymore. It was about you.
You. The one he left behind, the one he’s thought about every single day since he made that fateful choice. He had convinced himself he was doing the right thing, that he could live in the past and let go of everything. But the truth gnawed at him. He wasn’t living here – he was hiding.
"I had to come back," Steve mutters, almost to himself. "I owed it to Peggy."
Loki lets out a sharp laugh, drawing Steve’s attention. "Oh, please. Owing someone something doesn’t mean trapping yourself in a past that doesn’t need you. Peggy moved on, Steve. She had a life. But you? You abandoned yours."
He abandoned you. He abandoned Bucky.
Mobius sighs again, hands slipping into his pockets as he tries to cut through Loki’s sharp edges. "Steve, we’re not here just because of your choices. You staying here, in this time – it’s creating problems. Serious ones."
Steve frowns, straightening. "You prune timelines. What’s one more divergence?"
Mobius rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Loki before answering. "You're not just some random variant. You're Captain America. The impact of your absence is like pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry. Everything starts to unravel. Even the TVA can't stop the consequences of that for long."
Steve’s face hardens. "I'm just living quietly, out of the way. No one knows I'm here."
Loki’s voice cuts in, sharp and cold. "And every day you stay, more branches form. The longer you hide from where you're meant to be, the more damage is done."
Mobius steps forward, his voice steady but urgent. "Steve, we can only prune so much before the entire thing collapses. And trust me, when that happens, we don’t just erase this reality. We erase you."
"I don't believe – "
"We erase her."
Steve’s breath catches, his mind racing. This wasn’t what he thought. Now that harm is directed to you, the situation has drastically changed for him.
"And what if I go back?" Steve’s voice is tight, controlled, but beneath it is a thread of fear, of hope.
Mobius softens, sensing the shift. "If you go back, the timeline stabilizes. The branches collapse. The Steve Rogers your world remembers – the one who fought for the future, not the past – returns. And her…" He pauses, carefully choosing his words. "She's still waiting for you, Steve."
"Is she?" Loki cuts in, his tone mischievous as can be. "Didn't they just – "
Mobius sharply stops him right then and there. "Shut up, Loki."
Steve's heart twists painfully. His choice had been selfish, and he knows that. He'd run from you, from a future he was afraid to face. A life he believed could never offer peace.
"What if it's too late?" His voice breaks, just a little, his heart finally admitting the one thing he’s been too afraid to say.
Mobius smiles gently. "You’ve made tough calls before, Steve. But this isn’t about war, or duty, or sacrifice. This is about you. You deserve to live in your timeline – with the people who need you. She needs you. Go back, Steve. Fix what you can still fix."
Steve stands in silence, torn between the life he thought he wanted and the one that’s still waiting for him. He thought staying here would bring him peace, but all it's brought is doubt, regret, and a gnawing emptiness. He doesn't have his heart here with him.
Steve is about to speak, when Hunter comes bounding in the room, tail wagging wildly as he takes in the intruders. Another thing that Steve will have to leave behind.
But, apparently not.
"The dog can come with you," Mobius offers, shrugging lightly.
"What?" Loki turns to him in amused disbelief.
"Oh c'mon. Hunter is just as much hers, as he is Steve's."
2024, seven months after Steve's departure
For a while, everything had felt right.
Whatever right was in your lives.
Until the TV in your apartment blared the news about John Walker, Captain America 2.0.
Bucky watched it, jaw clenched, as some stranger stood there in Steve's uniform, parading the shield like it had only ever been his.
Bucky saw the flash of pain that crossed your face, which quickly transformed into anger.
He felt it almost immediately. You were pulling back, closing yourself off, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when the ghost of Steve is hovering between the two of you.
Was it still about Steve? Or was it about the future you both thought you had a handle on, until some nobody took everything that Steve represents?
Bucky knows you're hurting. He feels it. He's felt it since the moment Steve left – when you were left behind, and so was he.
And it kills him, seeing you like this, maybe even more than the pain he feels from being left behind.
Steve's shadow is keeping you from fully being here, with him, and it's a fresh kind of hurt.
You shut the TV off and irately toss the remote somewhere in the room.
Bucky clenches his fists and finally speaks, his voice rougher than usual. "We should go see Sam."
"Okay," you respond, your voice calm yet empty.
He's not going to lose you. He can't.
"Doll?"
Your response is a barely audible hum.
Bucky reaches for your hand, his anchor. "We're gonna be okay."
You nod, and offer a weak smile.
It's enough, for now.
When you arrive at Sam's, the tension doesn't ease. Sam takes one look at the two of you, and immediately detects that something is off.
Obviously, there's the matter of Walker. But he sees that there's something different too.
Just what the hell did you and Bucky get yourselves into?
Bucky and Sam exchange a look – one loaded with frustration – before Bucky breaks the silence. "We can't let Walker carry that shield, Sam. Before Steve left, he – "
Sam sighs, shaking his head. "He hinted at wanting to pass the mantle on to you or me – "
Bucky intervenes, "It should be you."
" – but... it's out of our hands, Buck. The government's already made their decision."
The words hit Bucky like a punch. You stay quiet, your mind whirring. You're thinking about Steve again – Bucky can see it.
Something settles in the pit of his stomach. It's nasty and unwelcome, and it makes him want to reach for you and shake Steve out of your thoughts.
He wants to tell you that he's here, and Steve isn't.
He's jealous.
Great, Bucky groans internally, I'm jealous of a damn ghost.
Sam watches the two of you for a moment, sensing the tension. "We'll figure something out. But for now, we have to let this play out. I've got other things on my plate right now."
"What is it?" you finally speak up, concern evident in your tone. "Anything we can do to help?"
"I've been hearing talk about this group. They call themselves the Flag Smashers. I can show you guys the briefing. They're out there right now, and they're not gonna wait for us to get our act together."
"We're coming with you," Bucky says, his voice steady and unflinching.
"Non-negotiable," you confirm, smirking, stepping closer to Bucky as a show of unity.
Sam hesitates, arms crossed as if weighing his options, then his gaze lingers on Bucky's neck. Then slowly – too slowly – he glances at you.
That's when he finally catches on.
The look on his face is almost comical, his eyes widening as he clocks the similar, telltale mark at the crook of your neck.
"Oh, man. Really?"
You feel your cheeks heat instantly as Sam's smirk grows wider.
"What? It's not – " you try to speak, but Sam's having none of it.
"No, no, no. This explains a lot. Like, a lot." He's grinning now, shaking his head like he's finally in on the joke. "I mean, all this weird energy... I thought y'all we're just mad about Walker, but now I get it. Shoulda known. It makes a lot of sense, the two of you."
You glance at Bucky, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but in that room.
"It's not like that," you mutter defensively, even though it's pointless with Sam.
"Sure, sure," Sam says, failing to suppress a chuckle. "You two just happened to get the same exact bruise in the same exact spot. Must have been a hell of a battle, huh?"
Bucky just scowls, though his ears are tinged pink. "So are you going to brief us or what?"
"Nah, man, you're good. So, what's the plan? You gonna take on the Flag Smashers like it's some couples' retreat?"
You sigh. "We're helping. That's it. This conversation is over."
"Okay, okay," Sam raises both hands in surrender, but he doesn't miss the chance to land another jab. "You're in. But maybe leave the hickeys for after the mission, yeah?"
"Shut up, Wilson," Bucky grumbles. Then he mutters under his breath, as Sam walks away to retrieve the files – "No promises."
You shoot him a look that lets him know you heard him, and he meets your gaze coolly. He wanted you to hear.
You feel a bit lighter – it's the effect he has on you.
Even though chaos has set back in your reality, and even though you're not quite sure where things stand between you and Bucky, there's one thing you know for sure – you're going into this together.
Non-negotiable.
Read part eight here ~
taglist (let me know in the comments if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii @nommingonfood @loki-laufeyson68 @queenofshinigamis @samkickikc @utterlyhopeful-fics @mthealy @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @cloudroomblog @haruvalentine4321 @pommblog @yujyujj @thetorturedbuckydepartment @sanoorie1 @cjand10 @micasaessakusa @croftyspock90 @froobaloob @mavrellover91 @dexter99 @barnes70stark @ordelixx @radiantdanvers @chaotic-wanda @mrsnikstan (continued in comments...)
Some notes in the margins...
Stevie boy's coming back! With Hunter!! I guess you can say he'll actually give Bucky something to be jealous about. 🤷🏻♀️
Judging by the results of this poll, yous are heavily pro-Bucky. Can't blame ya. But is he endgame?
What do you think will happen when they're all back together in the next part? 🙃
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#mcu#the avengers#chris evans#sebastian stan#bucky barnes fanfiction#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america
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And, after decades in which Republicans claimed the mantle of patriotism, now that the fate of democracy itself is on the line, Democrats are joyfully claiming the symbols and the principles of American democracy for their own. During the Vietnam War in the 1960s and early 1970s, many Democrats shied away from symbols of patriotism because they seemed to support imperialism. Then, in the 1980s, Reagan and his supporters wrapped themselves in the flag and claimed it for their own. That impulse to define “Americans” as those who vote for Republicans has led us to a place where a small minority claims the right to rule over the rest of us. The Democratic National Convention has powerfully illustrated that the rest of us are finally reclaiming the country and its symbols. The convention has been full of references to the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the American Revolution, the national anthem, and the pledge of allegiance. Tonight, attendees chanting “USA” waved signs emblazoned with the letters. Speakers, many of whom are military veterans, have testified that they are proud to be Americans. The theme of patriotism was even in one of tonight’s afterparties: Haitian-born rapper Wyclef Jean played The Star Spangled Banner with an interpretation that recalled Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock. “America is the best place to be,” he said. “I’m the best of the American dream. Welcome to America…. You know what makes America great? We’re a bunch of immigrants.”
August 21, 2024 - by Heather Cox Richardson
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Playing Pretend (Homelander x Reader)
Summary: Homelander’s secret identity is an ill-fated experiment in normalcy for a man who had grown up with anything but. He manages to keep his story straight until he runs into you in the hallway of your building one night, assuming the blood on his face and clothes are his and not the low-level criminals he’d just taken care of. While you’re playing nurse, Homelander’s playing John, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the facade around you.
Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. So Casual!Lander got me thinking about secret identity!Homelander again. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.2k
Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Some emotional manipulation, but this is on the fluffier side of things I've written.
Homelander hadn’t expected the blood on his civilian clothes to be much of a problem. It was late, he reported the incident to Vought and would be up a few points when the story hit the news in the morning. Typically, he returned to the Tower when something like this happened, but instead, he was drawn to the apartment he’d been set up with as part of his undercover identity.
A secret identity was exciting at first, a brand new challenge for him. Except he didn’t entirely get it. Wasn’t the point of everything he’d been through so that he could be Homelander? The best of the best, America’s savior? Not some guy named John living in a crappy apartment downtown. But Edgar wanted it, and so it was done.
The apartment itself didn’t feel like home. The pictures on the wall, knick-knacks on the bookshelves, they weren’t his. But the man he was pretending to be had a dizzying backstory that he found difficult to keep track of at first, and then irrationally jealous of once he got the hang of spitting out anecdotes about family barbecues and youth basketball leagues. Stuff everyone else got except for him, apparently, because they were always met with mind-numbingly boring stories of other people’s mirrored experiences that he had to “Oh?” and “Wow!” through like he actually cared.
“John!” You called out from down the hall as he approached, laundry basket in your arms.
He smiled. A real one. At least in all of this, he met you.
“Hey neighbor!” he greeted cheerfully, as if it were bright and early and not nearly midnight.
“What are you—” Your face twisted as he approached. Your heart thumped almost deafeningly. “Oh my god, what happened?”
“What?”
“John, you’re bleeding. Let me take you to the emergency room.”
“That’s not necessary. I–I don’t like doctors,” he said, the statement not feeling as much like a lie as he thought. “Most of it isn’t even mine.”
“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. At least let me clean you up a little?”
“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed.
You practically kicked open the door to your place, throwing your laundry basket aside and making a beeline for the bathroom like his life depended on it. If he were anyone else, it probably would have. He caught his warped reflection in your stainless steel refrigerator and cringed a bit. It did look pretty bad.
He inexplicably tensed upon seeing you return with the first aid kit, your brows knit together in worry.
“Sit, please,” you urged as you laid out the contents of the kit on your kitchen table. “Oh John, what happened?”
“You know me, I always gotta get the story,” he said, his cover as a crime reporter not having failed him yet.
Your eyes watered as you looked at him. “One of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“What I’m doing helps people. It saves lives. That’s worth it to me.”
You picked up a cotton ball soaked in peroxide. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”
He hesitated. That kind of thing had never been up to him. It either hurt or it didn’t, and if it didn’t hurt, they’d find out how to make it so it did.
“Okay,” he said, tense as your hand approached his face.
Even thinking about the doctors he grew up with made an ugly pit settle heavy in his stomach. But you weren’t a doctor. You were you, and it was cute how you played nurse. Tended to his wounds like they were real, like the blood was his. Did you notice how quickly they disappeared beneath your cotton-padded touch, leaving no trace of cut or bruise behind?
“It looks a lot worse than it is, don’t worry,” you assured him.
“That’s good.”
He had plenty of practice sitting patiently while being poked and prodded, but never with the unnecessary care you used.
He wanted to tell you. But then it’d defeat the purpose of a secret identity. Besides, just outright telling you wouldn’t be the grand, romantic gesture he pictured.
Late at night. You. Alone in the city for god knows what reason even though you know better. He’s told you enough that you should know better. It wouldn’t matter. Because he’d be there. The Homelander swooping in to save you from some thug on the street. It’d be then that you’d see him for who he really was, who he was made to be instead of the pitiful facade you were presently tending to. So taken by the act, by him, your hero, you’d melt in his arms and let him take you away from the hovel of an apartment building you two shared and into bliss.
A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
“I’m sorry,” you cooed, dabbing just above his eyebrow with a cotton ball. “I’m almost done.”
Sorry? Oh. You thought you hurt him. “I told you, I can take it.”
“I still feel bad,” you said. “Did you go to the police?”
“No, you know I usually don’t bother with that. Interferes with my own investigations,” he said.
You pursed your lips. You didn’t quite believe him, or were at least frustrated with his lack of personal safety. Worrying you wasn’t something he wanted to be in the habit of, but you poured out attention and care for him in such a way he could feel himself itching for more. It’d been like that since he first met you, the only kind and welcoming person in the damn building. Perhaps that was why he kept up with his secret identity for so much longer than he wanted to, his attachment to you, to this fake life he led with you in it.
But he could just as easily make a new one, a better one for the both of you once you knew the truth.
“You made out alright, John,” you said, glancing over his face. “Really well, actually. It doesn’t even look like anything happened.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” he joked, hoping to dissipate some of your suspicion.
He heard you swallow roughly.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
You reached out, caressing his cheek. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I can’t help it.”
Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, and you began to pull your hand away from his face until he caught your wrist and spoke your name softly.
“I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” you asked.
He hesitated a moment. I’m The Homelander. Instead, he pulled you closer, his gaze falling to your lips before kissing you.
You kissed him back softly, with an otherwise foreign tenderness that made him especially conscious of how he held you. His physical control was better, almost perfect. No more accidental bone breaking or spine snapping. He wouldn’t be The Homelander if he couldn’t control himself.
But it was hard, with how deeply he felt for you, how much his emotions threatened to overtake years of practice and conditioning to manage his sheer strength. The Homelander didn’t have any weaknesses—save for seeing through zinc—but he was certain none of the scientists who poked and prodded him for years on end would have ever bet on you.
#homelander x reader#the boys x reader#homelander#homelander the boys#the boys#the boys amazon#the boys tv#homelander imagine
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Happy(?) Gold Morning! Here's the 'thing' I mentioned I was working on a few weeks back: a map of all canon endbringer attacks plus 25 ones I made up to fill gaps in the timeline. I love rolling dice to decide the fates of hundreds of millions of fictionalized people!
Making this map really showed the gaps in the distribution of attacks. Europe is massively overrepresented, as is the US East Coast, but South and Central America, and especially Africa, are pretty massively underrepresented. I'm sure there's probably a kinda-sorta explanation you can spin about the endbringers only attacking places Eidolon is likely to defend, or the Simurgh attacking places that are more geopolitically influential, but that rings hollow to me.
In order to do this I had to make a massive spreadsheet of all the known canon attacks, then figure out how many attacks realistically fit in the gaps (mostly in the 2004-2009 years), then come up with 'realistic' casualty estimates (which are probably way too high but I wanted this to be bleak, I guess). probably 10-15 hours just spreadsheeting. Anyway,I think I've rambled enough. Enjoy(?)
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I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.
You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.
Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.
Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.
The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.
The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.
We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.
This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.
THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.
We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.
You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.
You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.
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Welcome to American Mate's Master List! The Taglist is CLOSED for this story.
This is an OT7 x Plus Sized/Chubby Reader story. The story will have Mature Scenes. The chapters with these adult themes will have (M) in the chapter name, so please 18+ readers only. Within the chapters, at the start and end of the Mature scene will be the following banner, if you want to skip them.
The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?
Chapter 1 - Two Weeks Early
Let's introduce you to the world of Hybrids and Playmates. It really is quite simple until a VIP Potential Client's manager walks into your office two weeks early, and it's only a skeleton crew right now.
Chapter 2 - The Playmate Meeting
Bangtan Pack arrives at Playmate Services Inc., USA Idol Division. It's time for the pack to meet the unsigned Playmates, but things don't go as well as planned.
Chapter 3 - Following Instincts
Dealing with the aftermath of the accident, Bangtan Pack reacts upon instincts, some more than others. Y/n learns a few new things.
Chapter 4 - First Case of Alpha Space
Y/n may call herself a Hybrid supporter but never has she dealt with something like this. Y/n gets to see firsthand some of what an Alpha is like when they get a little lost in their instincts.
Chapter 5 - Heated Discussions (M)
Y/n didn't want to cause trouble, but that seemed to be all she did. However, Bangtan Pack thinks sometimes the trouble is worth it.
Chapter 6 - A Proposition for You
Things get intense for Bangtan Pack and Y/n, but not in a good way. Meeting the doctor tonight has bigger implications than Y/n thought was possible.
Chapter 7 - Is This a Joke
After proposing to Y/n the option to become their playmate, the Bangtan Pack struggles to convince her to accept their Prime Alpha's offer. Will Y/n be persuaded or will she run from Fate unknowingly?
Chapter 8 - Time to Tell the Family Pack (M)
While the Bangtang Pack is excited to have Y/n join as a "Play"mate, that may not be the case for her family pack.
Chapter 9 - Shadows of the Past (M)
It becomes clear that pack dynamics can vary from pack to pack. This sometimes leads to interesting reactions. It's where the past can be seen influencing the present that will shadow all.
Chapter 10 - A Date in the Right Direction
After the visit from Dr. Blackwell, some of the Bangtan pack start behaving differently. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe the eldest Alpha has some insight. (This chapter is Seokjin-centric in honor of his coming home from the military)
Chapter 11 - Just a Staff Member Part 1
Chapter 11 - Just a Staff Member Part 2
Y/n stands up for someone else, and everything starts falling apart. Last night was a dream but the reality of the situation finally hits.
Chapter 12 - Everyone Deserves a Second Chance
It's time to make a choice that can make for an adventure or change y/n's life.
Chapter 13 - Shall we?
It's time for the date with Namjoon. Getting ready becomes more fun than you think it could be with an unexpected surprise and new friends, but what happens as the night goes on?
Chapter 14 - Does it Always End in Ruin?
Scenting in a car with the Prime Alpha goes better than expected, but once they return to the pack house, things take a turn for Y/n.
WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 15! This is a heavy chapter. Please read before reading the full chapter. Thank you 💜💜💜
Chapter 15 - The Pack Meeting and Troubled Pasts
Y/n shares her history with Bangtan Pack and finds she isn't the only one with a dark family life.
As a paid member of my Patreon, you can read extra spicy smutty scenes and additional content and have early release benefits for each chapter!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Reader Asks
Has the Bangtan Pack been with a woman before?
How would The Bangtan Pack react to finding Y/n dancing?
Additional Content
Meet Alpha Giant Flemish Rabbit Jungkook's Family
Patreon Artwork Poll Results (1)
American Mate (5) - Extended Scenting Scene (M)
American Mate (8) - Extended/ Additional Scene (M)
Take a look at Chapter 12, Hobi's Fire Red Suit.
#americanmate#bts#bts fanfic#hybrid#bts x reader#hybrid bts#bts fic#au#bts fanfiction#bts x plus size reader#bts x y/n#hybrid au#hybrid bts x reader#plus sized y/n#plus size reader#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#kim taehyung#min yoongi#park jimin#jeon jungkook#jung hoseok#chubby y/n#chubby reader#angst with a happy ending#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o verse#alpha beta omega#Ldysmfrst fic
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underground boxer!simon started off as a way to help support his family. but after losing them, it becomes his only emotional outlet. the money he makes covers his expenses and the rest of it stuffed in his mattress and odd corners of his apartment.
imagine the change in simon's life when your shitty (now ex) boyfriend leaves you stranded after the humiliating loss of money when he betted on Simon's opponent. somebody has to comfort you 🤷♀️
wait because shitty boyfriend has been training for months to finally be able to face off with that big brit that has no reason being in the forgotten corners of america because of some imaginary beef your bf made up in that smooth brain of his.
you warned him time and time again that that man is not fucking sane, he looks gleeful in that ring and he doesn't even fight with a teeth guard, but noooo you're just harping for no reason, worrying over nothing.
until the fateful day comes and your bf baits him out, telling him he'll pay the brit a fuck ton of money if he wins but he doesn't bite.
"i've earned more on a sunday night, get off the stands before you hurt ya self."
and when your scumbag bf couldn't go any lower, he hits the earths core by offering you up as prize. you were wondering how long he'd be put away if you called the police for human trafficking when the big guy agrees, a little too quickly.
"fight's on saturday. tell your pretty bird here to have her stuff packed by then, she won't be going back home with you."
(the nerve! the audacity! as if you 1. aren't your own person and 2. aren't there!)
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