After S.H.I.E.L.D. passes a rule for heroes to have a mandatory sidekick, Steve isn't all too happy. Especially with his assigned partner. He's a captain. He doesn't like being told what to do. He especially didn't like taking orders from a rookie.
Note
Warning(s): +18, Non con, Violence, Humiliation, Manhandling, Blackmail.Author's Note(s): This was an idea I had back in 2019 + I'm bored at work. Yes I know it's long and I don't caaaaaare.
April 30, 2025 at 05:08 AM
After S.H.I.E.L.D. passes a rule for heroes to have a mandatory sidekick, Steve isn't all too happy. Especially with his assigned partner. He's a captain. He doesn't like being told what to do. He especially didn't like taking orders from a rookie.
The way you giggled at every little thing. Was there even a brain in that dense head of yours? You were as dumb as a doorknob. He could tell from the start that you were only here to sit and look pretty. Since it was obvious he'd taken the brains and bronze.
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As Steve passes by eager fans on his way towards the tower, you instead take the opportunity to use this as a PR stunt, "Thanks guys! And don't forget to buy tickets to my all-exclusive access show!" winking at the crowd. Steve knew of it; you were bragging about being invited to star in a fighting ring. A privatized company reached out to you personally after a video of you stopping some muggers went viral. But Steve knows the truth. They were paid actors. To think the media went along with it still baffles him.
Steve knew of your little PR stunts; your team had been pitching the idea to him since before you were a thought. He remembers it clearly. It was all a gimmick, all for show. Something to collect people's hard-earned money. He scoffs at the amount of effort put into this. Some sort of government-funded pyramid scheme. Of course, a walking tool like you would fall for it. He doesn't bother hiding the scowl on his face.
It didn't take him long to realize you were a phony. Some characters to stock on toy shelves. Did you even have special abilities? Were all your crime busts fake? Steve had no clue since all supes were required to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You were a nepotism baby who had been granted permission to join long missions. But onlyif they were deemed a non-threat level. Not to mention there wasn't any mandatory training for you at all.
Steve of all people knows what it's like to be drafted and go through endless training. He still remembers running a dozen miles each day, and that was the warm-up. You weren't built for that kind of field. Your little gadgets were directly funded by your parent's trust. They were in close partnership with the Stark industry, going as far back as the founder Howard himself.
See, He'd leave you alone if you were obnoxious about it. That same day Steve informs you of a team meeting. Which you not-so-kindly declined, "Sorry old man, but I can't make it, I've got a match to win." you wink before walking off. If there's one thing, he can't stand its cockiness. It was at that moment he and Bucky shared glances. Both are seemingly annoyed by your overbearing pride. Someone had to knock you down a few pegs.
He storms out of the conference room to confront you about that little stunt you pulled back there. He has your arm in a firm grip, pressing your body against his chest. He leans in with a scowl on his face, "You need to start acting like your part of the team or you're off."
When you try to pry yourself off, he hadn't budged even the slightest, “This might be a hard concept for you, but back in my days people had to work for what they had.” He pulls you in, ignoring your whines. He growls, “Everything. The title, the rank, the armor. Nowadays a rich kid like you can just buy it. Who knew being a ‘hero’ could mean so little now."
"Steve. Let go," you warn. He doesn't, instead, he has a firm grip on your shoulders, "Get it through your dense head."
Only when your cries alert the people around you, does he let go. You decide to take advantage of the situation, "Don't be mad at me now that the world's starting to forget about you!" with that, you turn around and leave for your dorms. Steve could stare holes through your head, and Bucky knew it. He saw the whole thing and when Steve turned around to face him, they shared a knowing glance. Someone had to teach the spoiled brat some manners.
That's when they decided to hatch their little plan.
Tonight, one of the largest tournaments in the world, is going to be held under the streets of New York. Hundreds had snuck in to see the best fighters battle against each other. You were the honorary guest star, encouraged by your fans to show up. You packed your best suit saved just for this event. Spending hours redesigning and polishing it to perfection. You hid the armor in your room until the coast was clear. S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't mind letting you borrow it. Besides, you were going to give it back, just as soon as you win. It was snug against your figure, custom-made to move around like second skin.
As soon as they call for your stage name a roar can be heard from all the way backstage. Had this many people shown up just for you? In a way, you couldn't help but feel special. To feel like you had some sort of purpose in the universe. No more being invisible or left out, and they loved you, adored you, worshipped you. The plan was simple: Wait until the 'victor' finished off every competitor then battle it out with them. It would seem as though you'd won fair and square. An easy PR stunts. You watch from the balcony as the fighters line up.
All of them are either dressed in clad armor or custom-made gadgets. One of them stuck out like a sore thumb. No armor, no weapon he was only holding a shield. You scoff at the wannabe fanboy, rolling your eyes at his excitement. Right now, you didn't want to remember him.
His act was impressive, to say the least. A few corny lines here and there and the crowd was bought. You scowl at the masked performance. It takes one to know that the masked vigilante was yet another industry plant. There were already rumors about the feud you had with Captain Rogers. Could word have gone out and this was why they purposely set up a fight between the two? Of course, the real Captain American would never agree to it. They had the budget for a pathetic, off-brand version.
When it was finally your turn oh boy did you make an entrance. There were fireworks, a choreographed lineup, followed by an obnoxiously large banner with your alias on it. Then you come in, guns blazing. As you launch the brand-new micro-rockets bought with taxpayer money. He scowls at your entrance, already stretching himself for the battle. When the referee announces the odds the crowd roars with excitement. It was simple: He'd put up a good fight, but in the end, you'd win, and he'd get his collection. A fair deal. Who didn't love a good fight?
How sorely you were mistaken. Because the moment the bell rang, he charged full speed. Landing a swift kick to your abdomen. You go flying back, tumbling on your way down the stage. All the air had escaped your lungs, causing you to heave in a coughing fit. An alert flashed on the screen, alerting you that the defense program had been activated. Tony was going to kill you if you ruined your new suit!
You try activating your jets to take flight when suddenly a shield came shooting right at you. It chipped at the armor, causing you to fall to the ground with a loud 'thud'. Now this was going to cost you an arm and a leg. Whoever this prick was is for sure getting billed. Flicking your wrists upward you attempt to check if the energy beam still worked.
Only a flicker of light had flashed then it had quickly died. Now you began to panic, "Uh..just a sec guys!" you take a moment to recalibrate your suit. It was partially hidden due to your costume design. You smacked it a few times until it gave the green light. For the first time, you broke a sweat. You turn to your opponent now terrified of the outcome. It was apparent that this was no ordinary man. He hadn't even broken a sweat!
"Give up now. In front of all these people."
Now those words had caught your attention, ears perking up as you face him, "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me. Show them how much of a fraud you are."
You struggle in his hold. But his strength was unlike any other you'd experienced. Well, almost, "And what are you trying to gain from this? Hm?!" huffing from your armor. Its battery began to run out and the amount of work put in had already caused it to overheat. What was once your escape had now become Your prison.
He nods to the crowd along with players, leaning his head against the crook of your neck, "Do you have any idea what they'd do to someone like you? Do you even think about it?" he snarls against your ear, "Let me show you." his rips off the pieces of your armor as if it were nothing. Tearing at it like fabric until you were left with only a bodysuit. He had kept your helmet on to mock the use of the suit. As a symbol that your hero status was always for show.
It was all for show. You had no powers or special abilities. Your dad just so happens to be a part of the Avengers PR team. That was it. When Steve found out about your files, he was livid. He went through a dangerous experiment, but you got to have all the fame and glory. Some trust-fund baby with connections. Deep down Steve knew sluts like you would never learn. This was the only way.
He held you in a firm headlock, threatening to break the helmet in if you kept struggling. He growls, "Either you give up or I fuck you in front of all these people. Don't think I won't."
This is what you get for teasing him all these months. Seriously, what did you expect after being the biggest tease at work? This is what you fucking deserve. You thought you could take him on? In a fight? He chuckled at the thought. Now look at how the mighty hero fell. Left defenseless without your battle armor.
Otherwise, what's a little lady like you doing playing hero for? You'll never learn. Never know what it's like to keep in touch with your natural born instincts. It's what nature intended. He knew better than you. He's seen war and what it does to people. He needs to shield you from that. When his hand begins to linger somewhere lower you let out a hefty sob. Tears began to spill.
Fuck...if that did something to him.
His temper was the most terrifying thing about him. Sure, he had his looks to help but when he was mad? You'd hope to never cross paths with a scorned Steven Rogers. He pulls at your wrist, gripping it in his hand before squeezing. The harder you fought him the harder it got. You began to panic at the increase in pressure, "I yield! I yield!" slamming your other fist against him over and over until your hand went numb.
He grumbles against your temple, "You'd better run. Run like your life depends on it because it does." before finally releasing your wrist. You ran off the stage, humiliated after what just happened. The crowd roars for the victor.
It wasn't fair! That was supposed to be you they were cheering for!
You tried to plead with him, but it was in one ear and out the other. Your meek cries for mercy were useless to him. But the tears brought a primal satisfaction. He never knew he'd get so fucking hard from some crocodile tears. Nomad is declared the winner of this year's championship. While you cooped yourself up in the locker room, sobbing because you had been so obviously robbed.
That was supposed to be your tournament! Your victory! Your prize! They begged you to show up as a guest star and for what?! You were going to make them pay. You were going to make every single last one of them pay for what they did to you and your career--
"Ahem." a voice from behind you chirped. There, at the door stood the masked assailant. The cocky bastard dared to grin from ear to ear, holding what was supposed to be your metal in hand. You scowl at your former opponent, "Get out!" chucking a sneaker at him, "I said get out!" followed by another one. He dodges both effortlessly, now frowning unamused, "You seriously need to fix that attitude of yours." He approaches you sitting on the bench. You backup, "Get away from me!"
At that point, he's pissed. He grabs you by the neck before slamming you against the bench. You gasp for air, clawing at him like a madman. He wants to make sure this fucking haunt you. He's been through war and knows how to deal with cunts like you. All talk and no bite. He'll have to tame his little kitten. He doesn't care if he has to pluck every last one of your claws. You were going to learn your lesson.
As he rips your clothing off seamlessly as you scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping, and praying for someone out there to find you. By fate, a janitor just so happened to be passing by. When you look up to face him you couldn't help but tear up, "Please! Please help me mister he's gone insane!" reaching for the stranger. As the man removed his cap all hope had been lost. It was Bucky in disguise. Which only meant...no...no!
Steve clicks the straps of his helmet off, "I have to confess, it was fun testing out Tony's new prototype." Steve's large hand travels from your neck to the center of your chest. He spreads his palm across the bare skin, feeling your heartbeat fasten. Steve considers himself to be a gentleman. But if you weren't going to act like a lady, he might as well treat you like a slut.
A primal urge begins to take over as Steve licks his lips at the sight below. He looks up to his friend, giving a slight nod. Bucky aims a camera at the two of you. You look right at the blinking red light from the device, knowing that they plan on using it against you. Just the idea of it makes you physically nauseated. You freeze in place when Steve's member rubs against your crotch. That's when you start thrashing around "St-stop! Please!" trying to fight him off as he held you down, "Please! Don't make him watch!" you sob.
Bucky clicks his tongue, "Aww...poor thing wants us to stop.". Steve's not letting you have it your way. He orders you to always keep eye contact with the camera. You look down to hide your identity. Failing miserably as he yanks your head back by the hair. Crying out in agony as he manhandles you to submission. You let out a meek whimper, "You're not going to get away with this..." Causing both men to share glances before bursting into a laugh. You felt sick to your stomach, cunt exposed for the whole world to see. If you think there's a chance at saving your public image, think again.
Steve yanks you from the bench to a nearby wall. Forcing you to bend over while he yanks down the rest of your pants. He scoots your feet apart, exposing your rear to the camera. Bucky nears it, getting a good closeup of your sex. The lighting in here was perfect, it captured everything there needed to be.
"Hands on the wall," he commands. You rest on your forearms against the tiles. Until Steve pulls you back. He sneers in your ear, "Hands. On. The Wall." he orders, ripping both your arms apart as he splayed both your hands against the shower room wall. He hisses in your ear, "I better not see them move a single inch. Am I understood?" his voice booms throughout the shower room. You give a slight nod. Not good enough. He grips your hair and pulls back, resulting in you crying aloud. "Am I understood soldier?!"
You cry aloud, "Yes! Yes captain!" not wanting to worsen his mood. There's no telling what the two were capable of. He rubs a calloused hand against your core, attempting to collect any slick that may be there. Nothing. Well, he's just going to have to work with what he has. He gets on his knees, parting your folds before delving his tongue inside. You gasp from the sensation, whining from the sensation. Bucky chuckles, "Having fun?" pointing the camera at his friend who has his eyes blissfully shut as he devours your pussy.
Steve's lashes flutter for a moment, enjoying the taste of your cunt for the first time. He pulls out his cock, already pumping it to an even rhythm. Bucky already has his hand down the waistband of his pants. As your knees begin to buckle that's when the captain retreats. Steve hacks a spit on your hole one last time before pressing his fat tip against the now slick folds.
You grunt in frustration, "Ugh! Get out!" clawing at his arms and shoulders. It's too much. His size alone had stretched your lower abdomen in an unnatural shape. As soon as he was situated inside, he hadn't moved a single inch, basking in the way your insides squeezed him. Steve knew you were built for this. Perfect for someone like him, human wall of just concrete muscles.
He hoists you up by the waist, holding you flush against his abs, and growls in your ear, "Shut the fuck up and take it." before snapping his hips against yours. A scream escapes your lips. He chuckles, "Baby all you're doing is making me harder...c'mon...keep fighting..." he digs his nails into your hips, leaving small indents in the skin as he fastens his pace. You try catching your breath, but it felt like he was bludgeoning you with how fast his hips thrust.
He lifts you up with his grip, pressing you flush against the wall. His body weight was suffocating. His thighs trapped you by the waist as your feet dangle a few inches from the ground. His natural body musk overcame your senses. The pleasure of his deep, rough thrusts made your brain turn to mush. After what felt like forever, Steve finally came, shooting a load deep inside of you. His cum was thick and heavy.
You felt almost overwhelmed with how much came out. Collapsing to your knees as you clung to the wall for balance. A thick glop of his spent now leaking from your abused channel. Bucky zooms in on Steve's artwork. His friend wasn't don't just yet. Steve yanks the back of your sweat-coated hair. He barks, "You say 'thank you, sir.'"
a hoarse whisper escapes your lips, "Th-thank you, sir..."
"Thank you for using my cunt." he sternly orders.
"T-thank you f-for using my cunt..." your eyes flutter shut as you drift off to a slumber. Now Steve's satisfied. Who knew this was all it took to take you down? Some good old-fashioned, animalistic fucking. He knows from now on anything he says, goes. You wouldn't dare risk losing everything you had worked hard for.
He scoffs at the idea...'work'. You weren't going to be doing that from now on. The only place a woman your age should be is at home. He can picture it now, coming home from a mission, seeing you barefoot and pregnant. He knows exactly how your PR team would coin it: Captain America finds his American Sweetheart. Now that's does have a good ring to it.
