and you made it shine.

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.

You had been working with Darcy Lewis when she was called in by SWORD to help with an anomaly: the disappearance of an entire town in New Jersey. As one of her best friends from college, she had asked for your help with the case. Little did you know that she needed you for something much more important.

Once Darcy identified that Wanda Maximoff had stolen the town to create her own reality for her and Vision, the SWORD team decided to place someone who Wanda would recognize and trust to talk her down from the way she was treating the citizens of Westview. Steve Rogers, the Captain America, was called in for one last mission to save the town.

However, he needed a distraction, a cover; something that would keep him hidden until the last possible moment. When the SWORD team found you, you were simply untangling wires for Darcy in the back of the tent.

Now you had entered ‘The Hex’ and were acting as Steve’s girlfriend. He was off to work from 9 to 5 every day, while you tidied around the house and gathered information around the town. It was the perfect cover. A perfect plan.

But you never knew when Wanda was watching or listening in, so Steve recommended that the two of you play your parts at all times. Even when the other wasn’t around, or when there was no one else around but the two of you. A fake girlfriend, at all times.

Pressing a small kiss to his cheek, you start to pull the covers off yourself. “I should start getting breakfast ready. A busy day at work, I’m guessing?”

You feel his hand grip your arm as you try to sit up, but he pulls you back down to him. “C’mon, Y/N, just stay a little longer. I know you’re not busy today, and I can just call in sick or something.”

“Honey, I can’t,” you sigh, gently pulling your arm out of his grasp. “I’m having Wanda and Agnes over for tea in the afternoon, remember? You just started this new job a week ago, you can’t just waste it to have a day with me.” As much as you try to maintain your hold on reality, you can feel Steve starting to slip away. He was getting very serious in his role as your boyfriend.

He rolls his eyes, sitting up with you. “Fine, but promise me you’ll spend Saturday just with me.”

You smile back. “Of course,” you press one more kiss to his cheek, but he turns his head to catch your lips. You keep smiling, figuring he was playing the part just in case Wanda was watching. What a good actor, you think to yourself, pressing your hand against his white undershirt before standing up.

Opening your closet, you feel happy to find that your frilly little dresses seemed to be mostly gone. Blouses, sweaters, pants - oh, how you missed wearing pants - and simpler dresses fill the hangers, and you run your hand through them as you decide what to wear.

“This one would look breathtaking on you.” You jump as you hear Steve’s deep voice in your ear, and his arm brushes past yours as he takes out a sleeveless dress with flowers on it. You can’t make out the color of the pattern, but you smile.

As he hands it over to you, you run your hand over the fabric. “I do like this one, I’ll try it on,” you look up at him, and he’s beaming back at you. “Now run along, you’ll be late for work!”

Steve huffs, backing up and moving over to his closet. You start to change out of the nightgown you had decided to wear, feeling his eyes still on you as you slip the flower dress over your head. You find a pair of heels that looks to be the same color, though you can’t be entirely sure.

By the time Steve is downstairs, you’ve already made eggs, bacon, and toast for him, along with a few of the strawberries that Agnes gave you from her garden. They had been a bit too tart for your liking, but Steve seemed to like them when he tasted one the other day. “Wow, doll, this is incredible! You really will make an amazing wife.” He wears a white dress shirt under a dark grey suit, along with dark grey slacks to match. You walk over to adjust his tie, which appears to be yet another shade of grey as well, and he pulls you in for another kiss. “What did I do to deserve you?” he smiles, looking up at you as if the two of you had been married for years.

You blink for a moment as you look at him. He must be very passionate about this role. “Well, you signed up for it, Stevie,” you pull away, going back to the counter as you hear a ding, and your own toast pops up.

“Best decision of my life,” he sighs, sitting back in his chair. A small thud sounds outside the door, and Steve stands up to check it out. “Thank you!” you hear him call out, followed by the ringing of a bicycle bell. “The Westview Daily. Honey, can I take this to work with me?”

“Of course, could I check something for a moment?” He hands you the paper, and your eyes scan the top of the page. Yesterday you were living in the 50s, but today… it said the 1960s.

“It is such a gorgeous day out, don’t you think? The second I get back from work, we should have a nice night on the town. Maybe go catch a movie, go to dinner, have a stroll through the town… maybe I can meet your friends!”

You look back at Steve, even more confused. “Steve, that all sounds like a wonderful idea, but don’t you think Wanda would recognize you?”

He furrows his eyebrows, cocking his head “I’m not sure, doll, do I know her from somewhere?” Your eyes widen at his response, wondering why he’s playing so far into his part. You’re alone with him; why would he have to pretend at this point? “Anyway, I have to get going. I’ll see you when I get back. Have a great day, Y/N, don’t have too much fun without me!” He takes his briefcase and an extra strawberry, popping it in his mouth with a smile. He kisses you gently on the lips before opening the door, heading out with a wave.

“Wow, Y/N, what a lovely home you have! All this just for you and your husband?”

You smile as Agnes looks all around, sitting next to Wanda on your couch. You had taken a seat across from the two of them. “Boyfriend,” you correct her politely, pouring three cups of tea. “And yes, I told Chris that it would be a bit much for just us, but he insisted on such a large home. Something about raising kids here,” you told her. It was all a lie; you had found an abandoned home just down the street from the house Wanda had taken over, and, the moment you walked in with Steve, it transformed into a fully furnished home.

You had to force the name ‘Chris’ to come out of your mouth, as you knew Wanda’s aware who Steve Rogers is. It was the name that SWORD recommended you call him around ‘the hostile force,’ just in case she found out too soon.

Wanda raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip, setting it back down on the small plate. “That is so sweet, I was wondering where your ring was! I bet he can’t wait to tie the knot,” she smiles, her eyes gazing around the house as well. You nod a bit.

“I’m excited about it too, but the two of us are taking it slow to start. I mean, we moved in just recently, and I’m not sure if-”

“Oh, and you could have a few little guys running around here too! How cute would that be?” Agnes sighs, smiling at you. “We could take care of all the baby clothes and the toys, you wouldn’t have to lift a thing! You’ll love your time in Westview, I promise!”

You nod again, forcing a smile. They were moving so quickly with all their ideas for your life when you didn’t even have an actual boyfriend. “That would be amazing, and I know Chris is dying to have a few little ones of his own.” That was not a lie; Steve would go on and on about starting a family and maybe even staying in Westview. You were the one to try and crush his dreams, just for the night, so he could focus on the mission at hand.

Wanda smiles, looking around again. “It looks like you found yourself a real keeper! When are we going to meet this mystery man?” Before you can speak up, Agnes starts to point out all the photo frames hung with pictures of you and Steve. Ah, yes, the photos that mysteriously popped up the second you walked into the house. The two of them stand out, practically investigating in your living room. Wanda turns to you. “He looks familiar, do I know him from somewhere?”

You shake your head instantly, almost too quickly. “I don’t think so… I mean, he gets that a lot. Common features, I’m guessing…”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn I’ve seen this man before, maybe not in the town but somewhere else…”

Agnes eyes you suspiciously, and you glare back at her for a moment. “I have a great idea,” she suggests, not taking her eyes off of you. “Why don’t you and your boyfriend - Chris, was it? - go to the talent show in the community park tomorrow afternoon? It’s a great fundraiser for the children, and Wanda’s performing with her husband!”

Your eyes turn to Wanda. “That’s right! Me and Vis are doing an exciting magic show, you won’t want to miss it.” She glances at her watch, her eyes widening. “Agnes, we should head out, the planning meeting’s in a few minutes. It was so nice to spend time with you, Y/N, and if you ever need any help, I’m right down the street.”

“As am I,” Agnes cuts in, pulling you in for a hug. You hug her back, giving her a few pats before she lets go. “And we’ll see you at the park tomorrow, bye love!” They walk hand in hand out the door, turning left to head to the community pool. You sigh once you’re able to close the door, glad you didn’t have any slip-ups during your meeting with the two of them. Your biggest fear has become Wanda finding out who you are and casting you out of the Hex.

But a familiar voice has you nervous again.

“Afternoon, ladies, how’s it going?”

You open your door back up to find Steve pulling into the driveway, both Wanda and Agnes still on your sidewalk. He has his window rolled down as he smiles at them, but then he smiles even wider at you as he notices you. “Ste- Chris! What are you doing home so early… It’s barely three!” you call out, closing the door behind you as you walk outside.

He chuckles as he parks in the driveway, stepping out with his briefcase. He walks up to you and pulls you in for a passionate kiss, right in front of your friends. They giggle and squeal, and you try not to roll your eyes. “I had to come home and see my girl, plus Vision and I decided we’d take the two of you out for a fun night! So we both got off work early, and we’ll pick them up at around six.”

Wanda smiles a bit, but she studies Steve’s features. You can already tell that she is starting to figure out who he is, so you usher Steve into the house. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Well, they have a meeting to get to, and I’ll see you later, Wanda!” You shut the door quickly as Steve looks at you, a bit confused.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? You seem frantic, you could have talked to Wanda for a little longer-”

“Steve!” you suddenly say quite loudly, and his eyes snap to you. “What the hell are you doing?! I’m supposed to be the one gathering intel, getting close to Wanda… you’re supposed to be laying low until the right moment when you can convince her to shut down this whole operation! Taking Vision and Wanda out for dinner is not the plan!”

He raises his eyebrows, setting his briefcase down. “I’m just trying to make a name for myself in his town and make some friends! Vision is a great man, a brilliant worker! And Wanda wants to be your friend, I can tell.” He puts his hands on his hips. “That is no way to talk to your future husband.”

You feel like you’re out of air as his words punch you in the gut. “Future husband?! Steve, you’re not even my boyfriend! Stick to the plan, we can’t let Wanda find out.” Something’s off, very off.

He sighs, loosening his tie as he heads towards the bedroom. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. We’re not passing up this opportunity to make some friends, and you’re going to dinner with us.”

You shake your head. “No way in hell.”

Sitting next to Steve in the diner, you feel his hand rest on your thigh. You try to keep the menu over your face as you blush, trying to slap it away.

“Agnes told me this place has the best milkshakes… should we get a few for a table?”

Steve nods before you can say anything. “I’d love to share one, does that sound good, sweetheart?” You look at him, as he’s already been looking at you, and you nod a little. The waitress walks by at the right time. “Perfect, one vanilla milkshake….”

“And a strawberry one for Wanda and me,” Vision says politely, placing the menu down. “So, Chris has told me so much about you. He said you went to college in Virginia, where he met you, and that you love painting.

Steve’s hand on your thigh tightened, and you found yourself nodding along with Vision. How did Steve know you went to Culver? How’d he know about how much you love painting? You hadn’t mentioned that, had you? “Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday,” you smile, leaning your head into Steve. He kisses it softly, almost as if he was waiting for you to lean in further before his hand moves from your thigh to snake around your waist.

“How adorable,” Wanda coos, setting down her menu as well. “Now, back to what I was saying…” She points a finger at Steve. “You remind me of someone I know…”

Steve just chuckles, not at all concerned about the situation. “Maybe I do know you, I was just having this conversation with Y/N this morning. She figured you’d recognize me... I don’t remember why, though.”

Wanda glares at you for a moment, much more serious than when you were having tea earlier. You stutter for a moment, nervous under her stare. “H-Honey, I remember saying you have a very common bone structure, so many people might recognize you.” You turn to Steve, then back to Wanda. “I’m sure it’s nothing, I can’t imagine the two of you have ever met…”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet it’s nothing,” Wanda sighs, getting up out of her seat. “Y/N, why don’t you come with me to the restroom, let these two guys talk about boring work stuff!” It sounds light-hearted, but you can see something red glowing in her eyes.

Steve instantly stands up out of his seat to let you through, taking your hand before you can walk away. He kisses your lips gently, smiling when he looks into your eyes. “Don’t be gone too long, doll,” he tells you as he lets go of your hand. His hand is replaced by Wanda’s as she practically drags you to the restroom of the empty diner.

As soon as the door is closed shut, you see a burst of red energy come from her hands. You’re thrown against the wall as she stomps towards you. “Why is Steve Rogers here?” she booms at you, and you curse under your breath. How did she find out so quickly? “And who the hell are you?”

You swallow hard, worried she’ll kill you or throw you out of the Hex. “Wanda, I don’t know what you’re getting at, that’s Chris, my boyfriend…”

“Don’t play dumb with me, don’t insult me like that!” she yells, just loud enough to make you flinch but not loud enough for the guys to hear. “I fought alongside him, four times, I know what he looks like. Why are you here?”

You feel your feet come off the ground as she starts to raise you, getting very angry now. “Okay, okay! Let me down!” You come falling with a thud, but you’re raised to your feet again. “I’m working with SWORD, we came into Westview to try and stop you.” Her eyes glow bright red as she listens, but you keep going. “Steve was supposed to be my partner, to maybe talk you down from doing this, but he’s getting sucked into the illusion. He thinks we’re getting married, having kids, living here forever, but I met him just a week ago.” She raises her eyebrows, a small smirk coming to her face. “Now you can kick me out of the Hex, throw me right out, torture me all you want, or just kill me if you really want to-”

“No,” she cuts you off, her eyes going back to grey as she moves closer. You can hear her voice change, her Sokovian accent coming through “That wouldn’t be enough. Steve is clearly becoming a part of Westview, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from him.” You narrow your eyes, confused at what she’s getting at. “You will stay inside Westview, without any way of escaping it, aware of everything that’s going on. Steve will be your husband,” she ignores you as you shake your head, “and you’ll stay my neighbor. You’ll keep your role, just like the rest of us.”

You’re speechless as you look at her. She’s right; that truly is the ultimate punishment. “Wanda, just please… let me go.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Never. You mess with me and my family, you pay the price.”

Shocked at how terrifying Wanda had gotten, you nod a bit. She opens the door for you to step out of the bathroom, and you step in front of her. As you make your way back into the diner, the booth you had been sitting at is covered in candles. You make your way over to the booth to see Steve on one knee, looking up at you with a smile. You glance at Wanda, shaking your head, but she just smiles.

“Y/N,” Steve breathes out, and you snap your head back to him. “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one.” You met me a week ago, Steve, in a tent, you think to yourself. “I could never love someone the way I love you, and I want to grow old with you. I love you, Y/N, will you marry me?” He opens a small satin box, which holds a simple yet beautiful engagement ring.

You swallow hard, walking towards Steve. “Is this really what you want?” you whisper to him.

He nods, pushing the box towards you. “Of course. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, here in Westview.”

You sigh, incredibly torn. If you said no, would Wanda just rewind time to force you to say yes? “Yes,” you tell him, trying to sound convincing. Clearly, it works, as he stands up and pulls you into a passionate kiss. He wraps his arms around you before pushing you back into the booth, the staff of the diner clapping and smiling.

“Congrats, you two! Chris is a lucky man,” Vision compliments you, but Wanda’s hand presses against his chest.

“Vis,” she speaks up, looking right at you, “it’s actually Steve.”

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” your father peered over at you for a moment, pulling you from your daydream. 

You sighed as you returned the glance, playing with the hem of your floral skirt. “Oh, nothing really.”

He raised his eyebrows, now not taking his eyes off the road. “Now, we’ve talked about this. You have no reason to lie to me, you know that. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

He was completely right; you should’ve learned by now not to lie to a deacon, much less your own father. He had never given you any reason to not trust him. With a bit of hesitation, you told him the truth. “I wish we could move to a place like Cincinnati, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, our little town is wonderful, but sometimes it’s just… suffocating.”

Your father nodded, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “Pumpkin, I know exactly what you mean, but this here’s just a phase. You’ll learn soon enough that you’re not meant for that city lifestyle, you belong in good ol’ Knockemstiff.”

“Mhm,” you sighed out, your eyes still wandering over the countryside. You were always taught that your father knew best, that he and your momma should be the prime example of a life well-lived… but you longed for so much more. You refused to believe that you were meant to be confined to being a housewife in rural Ohio for the rest of your life. 

You fidgeted with your purity ring, keeping your hands in your lap and your mouth shut for the rest of the drive. It was interesting staying in Cincinnati for a week, a city where no one knew your name or your family. A city where you could be anyone, and no one would care.

In Knockemstiff, everyone seemed to care about your every move. You couldn’t escape it; they were truly suffocating you, making the grass in places like Cincinnati look greener and greener. 

“Here we are, just in time for evening mass,” your father sighed with a smile, steering with one hand as he waved to the parishioners with the other. You always thought the families who were half an hour early to mass were insane, though you knew your deacon-of-a-father needed to be there by then anyway. He drove past the church towards the small house next door that you called home, pulling into the driveway to let you hop out. You opened the backdoor to take your bags before walking around the car and giving your dad a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll see you there?” you smiled at him, to which he nodded. “I’ll ask Momma to see if they’ve gone yet, if not I’ll just sit alone.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought I saw that shiny blue car parked right in front. I’m sure that Steven boy will want to keep you company,” he raised his eyebrows before smiling. “I’ll see you later, pumpkin.” 

You backed up to watch him back out of the driveway, faintly hearing the front door open as your mother stepped out onto the porch. You looked towards her as her face lit up. “Sweetheart, you’re home!”

Your mother was your rock. As much as your father was a great man, you loved your mother more than anything. You were always regarded as a younger version of her, yet you could never see yourself settling down with a man like your father. You ran inside, embracing her tightly with a smile on your face. Just as you did, your younger siblings Josie and Thomas clung to your legs while they giggled, looking up at you. 

“How was the big city?” she smiled as she pulled away a bit. You couldn’t really move, your legs being weighed down, but she pried Tommy off your leg as you pulled little Josie in for a hug. 

“It was spectacular, Momma, I wish we could just move there. I kept trying to talk to Dad about it, but he shot me down every single time.” 

She just laughed as she led you inside the house, and you shut the door with Josie in your arms. “I know, I had dreams of living in a big city when I was younger, just like you,” she sighed, setting Thomas down on the couch. “But once I met your father, I knew it was just a silly fantasy. Sometimes it’s not meant to be that way, and I’m sure your father told you that a few times.” You nodded a bit as your face started to fall, holding Josie closer to your side as she walked over. “I’m not saying it won’t happen, but there’s a possibility that you might stay here. Or somewhere else like here. Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind, okay?” She turned toward the kitchen as you finally let your little sister down. “Plus, you have plenty of time.”

You sighed as your siblings ran around, and you tried to maneuver around the living room to avoid them. “But you had me at this age, Mom,” you pointed out, and you continued when your mom didn’t look up at you. “I feel like the longer I stay here, the faster my own life is slipping out of my hands. I want to be able to choose.”

“And you will be able to choose,” she looked up, still smiling at you. “Sweetheart, my life doesn’t have to be your life, and you know that. Just keep an open mind, and tell your father dinner will be ready as soon as you both get home.”

You held back an eye roll when you realized she wouldn’t be coming to mass with you. “Did the three of you go this morning?”

She nodded softly, taking her apron from the hook and tying it around her waist. “Be warned, Father Walter’s homily will last an hour, or what feels like an hour.” You raised your eyebrows, mentally preparing yourself for that torture, but you were holding back a small smile. 

The deacon’s perfect wife, complaining about a homily. That’s why she’s your favorite. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going. Those first few pews fill up so quickly, you know.”

“That’s not a problem, I won’t be sitting there,” you smiled a little. “I think a seat near the back should do just fine.”

Your mother smirked a little, her expression never firm. “You know your father expects you to sit front and center, right? As long as you’re okay with explaining why you weren’t sitting-”

“It’ll be all my fault, Momma,” you shushed her as you kissed her cheek. “I love you, I’ll see you after mass.” Without another word you walked out the door, walking around the fence that separated the beautiful church from your home. 

You made your way towards the door, stepping onto the blacktop of the parking lot as parishioners filed into the church. You suddenly were filled with dread, however, when you heard the sound of boots clicking behind you, following you in, and a familiar face appeared beside you.

“Doll, it’s been a while.”

Your slight smile instantly faded as you kept walking, not even giving the man behind you a glance. “It’s been a week, Steve,” you muttered, starting to fake smiles and give small waves as you moved toward the church doors. You could feel him getting even closer as you had to slow down, trying to push past a few people. You were completely slowed down at the holy water font when you, almost reluctantly, dipped two fingers into the brisk water before making the sign of the cross. 

Steve gripped one hand around your waist as he followed suit, dipping just one finger in before following very closely behind. “And, to me, that’s seven days too long.”

“Six days. We left Monday morning.”

“But I didn’t see you Monday,” he insisted as you pulled him off to the side, not wanting to argue with him in front of the crowd. “I was worried you were leaving me for life in the big city, but I knew you’d be back.”

You finally got a chance to look into those big blue eyes you hated more than anything. Anything except maybe that perfect smile he was flashing as he kept you resting against the wall. “Believe me, Steve,” you narrowed your eyes, “if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have come back to Knockemstiff.”

But his smile never wavered as he raised his eyebrows, seemingly amused. “Of course, princess. Keep telling yourself that.” 

“You bet I will,” you snapped back, knowing you’d be saying much unholier words if you weren’t in church. But he didn’t say a word back, still bearing a devious smile as he suddenly grabbed your arm. Despite your hushed protests, he walked you down the aisle of pews, his grip tightening when you tried to join a pew further back. He practically pulled you along until you’re sitting in the very front row, right next to him.

You finally yanked your arm away, glaring at him before turning to face the front. “Thank me later, bet your dear old dad loves it when you sit here.” He pointed to the altar, where your dad was setting up for mass. He smiled when he noticed you sitting in the front row, eyeing Steve next to you. You hadn’t realized Steve had started to hold your hand, which you were sure looked oddly suspicious to him. As he walked away, you were extremely close to snapping back at him, until you heard a voice come from the other side of Steve.

“Oh, Steven, looks like you’ve got yourself a sweet young lady! Takes after her mother.”

Dotty always sat next to your family during church, and you reluctantly peered around Steve to greet her. “That’s right, ma’am, never letting go of this one,” Steve glanced at you with a smile, tightening his grip on your hand. You winced, forcing a smile as you looked at him. You couldn’t wait for this nightmare to end.

Mass seemed like it would never end.

When Steve’s hand wasn’t suffocating yours, it found its place on your thigh where your skirt didn’t cover. You cursed yourself for not listening to your father and wearing a skirt that landed above your knee, though you were certain Steve would still find a way. He held your hand tightly during the ‘Our Father’ and pulled you in for a tight hug right after. You yanked yourself away as soon as you could to hug Dotty on the other side of him, but once you were standing back in your spot, his hand was resting in the small of your back. He was, quite honestly, suffocating you. 

And you’d only been back for an hour. 

As the procession walked down the aisle at the end, you turned to follow them out, but Steve caught your hand. You frowned as you practically spun into him, but he was still smiling. “You’re supposed to wait until the song’s done, silly,” he smiled, humming along. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to get out of his grip. “I know, but I have to get back home for dinner. Wouldn’t want it to get cold, you know.”

“It takes two seconds to walk over there, and your dad has to get changed anyway.” You huffed at how well Steve knew you as you simply stood there, impatiently waiting for the song to end. As soon as a few quiet claps could be heard through the chapel, you felt his grip loosen as you finally made a run for it. Steve was somehow right behind you, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t wait to be home, more than ever before. 

You practically sprinted out of the large doors before a hand grabbed you and pulled you to the side of the church. You collided with Steve’s chest, looking up at him and pressing your back against the wall. “Steve… just let me go home…”

He chuckled, looking at you like you were crazy. “I will, just calm down sweetheart… but when will I see you again?”

Catching your breath, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I mean, at church… you know where to find me, I’m always here.”

But Steve was incredibly persistent. “I know, but we should hang out outside of all this. It’ll be fun, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go driving for hours. I know an outstanding ice cream place in the town over.”

“I don’t know, Steve…”

“What about Wednesday?” You looked up at him, hesitant about agreeing to spend time with him. “You usually get off work early on those days, and I can just pick you up from there. I can even grab you some dinner before, and we can just drive and drive and drive-”

“Okay,” you sighed out, mostly to shut him up. “Wednesday is good, I’ll see you then?”

It clearly did shut him up as he started to nod with a smile. “Absolutely, sweetheart. See you then.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek before backing up, and you could hear his boots clicking on the asphalt as he walked toward his car. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you walked around the fence towards the front door of your house. Your father hadn’t gotten out of the chapel yet, but your mother was scrambling around the kitchen as your younger siblings listened to the radio. 

She smiled to hear you come in, and you quickly set down your prayer book to help her. “Sweetheart, could you toast these buns for me, please? Dinner’s almost done.”

“Absolutely,” you toasted them two at a time, watching her stir the pot of tomato sauce and meat as she added spices here and there. “Smells amazing. And you were right, that homily almost put me to sleep.”

She giggled as she spooned a bit of sauce of meat, holding her hand underneath and letting you taste. You nodded wordlessly, putting a smile on her face. “Am I going to get lectured about where you sat during mass? Or did you suck it up and sit in the front?”

You sighed, taking the buns out of the toaster and replacing them with two more. “Don’t worry, I was front and center, just like how Dad likes it. But it wasn’t because of me…”

“Did that Steven boy make you sit there?”

“Yes, and he would not leave me alone the entire time. He even asked if we could hang out Wednesday night after work.” 

She raised her eyebrows, not looking up as she continued to stir. “And what did you say?” 

You toasted the last bun as you sighed. “I said yes, just to make him calm down a little, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

She cracked a smile, turning off the burner and moving the pot to the side. “Does he know about the boy that comes by your window every night?”

Just as she finished her sentence, the front door swung open. You shushed her, as politely as you could, and she just giggled a little. “We’ll talk about it later,” you whispered to her before moving further out of the kitchen to see your father walk through the door. 

“Was I right, or was I right?” he chuckled as he walked in, watching Josie and Tommy sprint over to him. He knelt down to their level, stretching out his arms to embrace them. “You know, if Steven is the reason you’re sitting in the front pew of the church each week, maybe we should keep him around. Dotty kept asking me when the wedding will be.”

Mom laughed as you rolled your eyes setting the table for dinner. “Stop encouraging her, Dad. I would never marry him; I don’t even want to be anywhere near him. He practically dragged me to the front row.” Your dad gave you a look as he walked over to his chair at the dinner table. “I’d sit on the altar if it meant getting away from Steve Rogers.”

He scoffed, taking off his coat to place on his chair. “Now you’re just being overdramatic, pumpkin. I’m only kidding, I’m sure Steve isn’t the only nice Catholic boy in this town. I just think you should be kinder to him, as a friend.”

You nodded, knowing you could never win a full fight with your father. “I’ll try, but if he gets too close…”

“... I’ll get the bat,” he smiled, kissing your head as you walked around the table with the forks. And you smiled back. However, a bit of fear settled in as you imagined what he might do if he ever found out about Arvin Russell.

a/n: thanks for reading!! more parts coming very soon :)

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” your father peered over at you for a moment, pulling you from your daydream. 

You sighed as you returned the glance, playing with the hem of your floral skirt. “Oh, nothing really.”

He raised his eyebrows, now not taking his eyes off the road. “Now, we’ve talked about this. You have no reason to lie to me, you know that. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

He was completely right; you should’ve learned by now not to lie to a deacon, much less your own father. He had never given you any reason to not trust him. With a bit of hesitation, you told him the truth. “I wish we could move to a place like Cincinnati, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, our little town is wonderful, but sometimes it’s just… suffocating.”

Your father nodded, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “Pumpkin, I know exactly what you mean, but this here’s just a phase. You’ll learn soon enough that you’re not meant for that city lifestyle, you belong in good ol’ Knockemstiff.”

“Mhm,” you sighed out, your eyes still wandering over the countryside. You were always taught that your father knew best, that he and your momma should be the prime example of a life well-lived… but you longed for so much more. You refused to believe that you were meant to be confined to being a housewife in rural Ohio for the rest of your life. 

You fidgeted with your purity ring, keeping your hands in your lap and your mouth shut for the rest of the drive. It was interesting staying in Cincinnati for a week, a city where no one knew your name or your family. A city where you could be anyone, and no one would care.

In Knockemstiff, everyone seemed to care about your every move. You couldn’t escape it; they were truly suffocating you, making the grass in places like Cincinnati look greener and greener. 

“Here we are, just in time for evening mass,” your father sighed with a smile, steering with one hand as he waved to the parishioners with the other. You always thought the families who were half an hour early to mass were insane, though you knew your deacon-of-a-father needed to be there by then anyway. He drove past the church towards the small house next door that you called home, pulling into the driveway to let you hop out. You opened the backdoor to take your bags before walking around the car and giving your dad a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll see you there?” you smiled at him, to which he nodded. “I’ll ask Momma to see if they’ve gone yet, if not I’ll just sit alone.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought I saw that shiny blue car parked right in front. I’m sure that Steven boy will want to keep you company,” he raised his eyebrows before smiling. “I’ll see you later, pumpkin.” 

You backed up to watch him back out of the driveway, faintly hearing the front door open as your mother stepped out onto the porch. You looked towards her as her face lit up. “Sweetheart, you’re home!”

Your mother was your rock. As much as your father was a great man, you loved your mother more than anything. You were always regarded as a younger version of her, yet you could never see yourself settling down with a man like your father. You ran inside, embracing her tightly with a smile on your face. Just as you did, your younger siblings Josie and Thomas clung to your legs while they giggled, looking up at you. 

“How was the big city?” she smiled as she pulled away a bit. You couldn’t really move, your legs being weighed down, but she pried Tommy off your leg as you pulled little Josie in for a hug. 

“It was spectacular, Momma, I wish we could just move there. I kept trying to talk to Dad about it, but he shot me down every single time.” 

She just laughed as she led you inside the house, and you shut the door with Josie in your arms. “I know, I had dreams of living in a big city when I was younger, just like you,” she sighed, setting Thomas down on the couch. “But once I met your father, I knew it was just a silly fantasy. Sometimes it’s not meant to be that way, and I’m sure your father told you that a few times.” You nodded a bit as your face started to fall, holding Josie closer to your side as she walked over. “I’m not saying it won’t happen, but there’s a possibility that you might stay here. Or somewhere else like here. Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind, okay?” She turned toward the kitchen as you finally let your little sister down. “Plus, you have plenty of time.”

You sighed as your siblings ran around, and you tried to maneuver around the living room to avoid them. “But you had me at this age, Mom,” you pointed out, and you continued when your mom didn’t look up at you. “I feel like the longer I stay here, the faster my own life is slipping out of my hands. I want to be able to choose.”

“And you will be able to choose,” she looked up, still smiling at you. “Sweetheart, my life doesn’t have to be your life, and you know that. Just keep an open mind, and tell your father dinner will be ready as soon as you both get home.”

You held back an eye roll when you realized she wouldn’t be coming to mass with you. “Did the three of you go this morning?”

She nodded softly, taking her apron from the hook and tying it around her waist. “Be warned, Father Walter’s homily will last an hour, or what feels like an hour.” You raised your eyebrows, mentally preparing yourself for that torture, but you were holding back a small smile. 

The deacon’s perfect wife, complaining about a homily. That’s why she’s your favorite. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going. Those first few pews fill up so quickly, you know.”

“That’s not a problem, I won’t be sitting there,” you smiled a little. “I think a seat near the back should do just fine.”

Your mother smirked a little, her expression never firm. “You know your father expects you to sit front and center, right? As long as you’re okay with explaining why you weren’t sitting-”

“It’ll be all my fault, Momma,” you shushed her as you kissed her cheek. “I love you, I’ll see you after mass.” Without another word you walked out the door, walking around the fence that separated the beautiful church from your home. 

You made your way towards the door, stepping onto the blacktop of the parking lot as parishioners filed into the church. You suddenly were filled with dread, however, when you heard the sound of boots clicking behind you, following you in, and a familiar face appeared beside you.

“Doll, it’s been a while.”

Your slight smile instantly faded as you kept walking, not even giving the man behind you a glance. “It’s been a week, Steve,” you muttered, starting to fake smiles and give small waves as you moved toward the church doors. You could feel him getting even closer as you had to slow down, trying to push past a few people. You were completely slowed down at the holy water font when you, almost reluctantly, dipped two fingers into the brisk water before making the sign of the cross. 

Steve gripped one hand around your waist as he followed suit, dipping just one finger in before following very closely behind. “And, to me, that’s seven days too long.”

“Six days. We left Monday morning.”

“But I didn’t see you Monday,” he insisted as you pulled him off to the side, not wanting to argue with him in front of the crowd. “I was worried you were leaving me for life in the big city, but I knew you’d be back.”

You finally got a chance to look into those big blue eyes you hated more than anything. Anything except maybe that perfect smile he was flashing as he kept you resting against the wall. “Believe me, Steve,” you narrowed your eyes, “if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have come back to Knockemstiff.”

But his smile never wavered as he raised his eyebrows, seemingly amused. “Of course, princess. Keep telling yourself that.” 

“You bet I will,” you snapped back, knowing you’d be saying much unholier words if you weren’t in church. But he didn’t say a word back, still bearing a devious smile as he suddenly grabbed your arm. Despite your hushed protests, he walked you down the aisle of pews, his grip tightening when you tried to join a pew further back. He practically pulled you along until you’re sitting in the very front row, right next to him.

You finally yanked your arm away, glaring at him before turning to face the front. “Thank me later, bet your dear old dad loves it when you sit here.” He pointed to the altar, where your dad was setting up for mass. He smiled when he noticed you sitting in the front row, eyeing Steve next to you. You hadn’t realized Steve had started to hold your hand, which you were sure looked oddly suspicious to him. As he walked away, you were extremely close to snapping back at him, until you heard a voice come from the other side of Steve.

“Oh, Steven, looks like you’ve got yourself a sweet young lady! Takes after her mother.”

Dotty always sat next to your family during church, and you reluctantly peered around Steve to greet her. “That’s right, ma’am, never letting go of this one,” Steve glanced at you with a smile, tightening his grip on your hand. You winced, forcing a smile as you looked at him. You couldn’t wait for this nightmare to end.

Mass seemed like it would never end.

When Steve’s hand wasn’t suffocating yours, it found its place on your thigh where your skirt didn’t cover. You cursed yourself for not listening to your father and wearing a skirt that landed above your knee, though you were certain Steve would still find a way. He held your hand tightly during the ‘Our Father’ and pulled you in for a tight hug right after. You yanked yourself away as soon as you could to hug Dotty on the other side of him, but once you were standing back in your spot, his hand was resting in the small of your back. He was, quite honestly, suffocating you. 

And you’d only been back for an hour. 

As the procession walked down the aisle at the end, you turned to follow them out, but Steve caught your hand. You frowned as you practically spun into him, but he was still smiling. “You’re supposed to wait until the song’s done, silly,” he smiled, humming along. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to get out of his grip. “I know, but I have to get back home for dinner. Wouldn’t want it to get cold, you know.”

“It takes two seconds to walk over there, and your dad has to get changed anyway.” You huffed at how well Steve knew you as you simply stood there, impatiently waiting for the song to end. As soon as a few quiet claps could be heard through the chapel, you felt his grip loosen as you finally made a run for it. Steve was somehow right behind you, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t wait to be home, more than ever before. 

You practically sprinted out of the large doors before a hand grabbed you and pulled you to the side of the church. You collided with Steve’s chest, looking up at him and pressing your back against the wall. “Steve… just let me go home…”

He chuckled, looking at you like you were crazy. “I will, just calm down sweetheart… but when will I see you again?”

Catching your breath, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I mean, at church… you know where to find me, I’m always here.”

But Steve was incredibly persistent. “I know, but we should hang out outside of all this. It’ll be fun, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go driving for hours. I know an outstanding ice cream place in the town over.”

“I don’t know, Steve…”

“What about Wednesday?” You looked up at him, hesitant about agreeing to spend time with him. “You usually get off work early on those days, and I can just pick you up from there. I can even grab you some dinner before, and we can just drive and drive and drive-”

“Okay,” you sighed out, mostly to shut him up. “Wednesday is good, I’ll see you then?”

It clearly did shut him up as he started to nod with a smile. “Absolutely, sweetheart. See you then.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek before backing up, and you could hear his boots clicking on the asphalt as he walked toward his car. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you walked around the fence towards the front door of your house. Your father hadn’t gotten out of the chapel yet, but your mother was scrambling around the kitchen as your younger siblings listened to the radio. 

She smiled to hear you come in, and you quickly set down your prayer book to help her. “Sweetheart, could you toast these buns for me, please? Dinner’s almost done.”

“Absolutely,” you toasted them two at a time, watching her stir the pot of tomato sauce and meat as she added spices here and there. “Smells amazing. And you were right, that homily almost put me to sleep.”

She giggled as she spooned a bit of sauce of meat, holding her hand underneath and letting you taste. You nodded wordlessly, putting a smile on her face. “Am I going to get lectured about where you sat during mass? Or did you suck it up and sit in the front?”

You sighed, taking the buns out of the toaster and replacing them with two more. “Don’t worry, I was front and center, just like how Dad likes it. But it wasn’t because of me…”

“Did that Steven boy make you sit there?”

“Yes, and he would not leave me alone the entire time. He even asked if we could hang out Wednesday night after work.” 

She raised her eyebrows, not looking up as she continued to stir. “And what did you say?” 

You toasted the last bun as you sighed. “I said yes, just to make him calm down a little, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

She cracked a smile, turning off the burner and moving the pot to the side. “Does he know about the boy that comes by your window every night?”

Just as she finished her sentence, the front door swung open. You shushed her, as politely as you could, and she just giggled a little. “We’ll talk about it later,” you whispered to her before moving further out of the kitchen to see your father walk through the door. 

“Was I right, or was I right?” he chuckled as he walked in, watching Josie and Tommy sprint over to him. He knelt down to their level, stretching out his arms to embrace them. “You know, if Steven is the reason you’re sitting in the front pew of the church each week, maybe we should keep him around. Dotty kept asking me when the wedding will be.”

Mom laughed as you rolled your eyes setting the table for dinner. “Stop encouraging her, Dad. I would never marry him; I don’t even want to be anywhere near him. He practically dragged me to the front row.” Your dad gave you a look as he walked over to his chair at the dinner table. “I’d sit on the altar if it meant getting away from Steve Rogers.”

He scoffed, taking off his coat to place on his chair. “Now you’re just being overdramatic, pumpkin. I’m only kidding, I’m sure Steve isn’t the only nice Catholic boy in this town. I just think you should be kinder to him, as a friend.”

You nodded, knowing you could never win a full fight with your father. “I’ll try, but if he gets too close…”

“... I’ll get the bat,” he smiled, kissing your head as you walked around the table with the forks. And you smiled back. However, a bit of fear settled in as you imagined what he might do if he ever found out about Arvin Russell.

a/n: thanks for reading!! more parts coming very soon :)