You were easy to spot the moment he stepped inside the familiar living room. It was the room where you and he would spend hours playing when he wasn’t dragging you outside. It’s the same room where you would show him all the ideas you had about a perfect wedding. You would even go on to play it out with your many stuffies and have him play your groom every so often.

Oh, how he wished he’d known he would come to relive those moments more often later on. He wouldn’t have pushed you away a few times or scrubbed your kisses from his cheeks.

If he could go back, it wouldn’t be to his youngest self but to his teenage self.

The soccer team had gone out to celebrate their hard-won victory. You’d sat next to him at the local diner, wearing the cutest shirt you’d made to cheer him on. At one point, he realized just how close the two of you were. You seemed to do the same. To his complete surprise, you leaned toward him as he dared a longing glance at your lips. He mimicked your movements, getting ever closer to kissing you for the first time. He knew it would change things, but in that moment, he’d known he wanted to. Oh, he really wanted to. Yet, it hadn’t been meant to be as a teammate banged the window near the booth, interrupting and ending the moment between you two.

His trip down memory lane ended the moment you spotted him.

You said something to the man at your side. Your fiancé, no doubt. Then, you were weaving through your friends and family until you stood right in front of him.

“Jakey?” Your voice shook while your hand came up, nearly cupping his cheek. It never made contact though as you launched yourself at him, wrapping yourself around him. “I can’t believe you’re here. They told me you died. Should be so mad at you right now, but I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you.

When he pulled back, he tugged a small chain from his pocket. “How could anything ever happen to me when I’ve got my good luck charm?”

You gasped at the little rabbit charm you’d bought him before his first deployment. It’d been one of the last things you’d given to him before the two of you went separate ways. You to university and Jake to boot camp.

“You kept that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You gave it to me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man who’d been at your side before joined the two of you. His arm went around your waist. It wasn’t an act of possession, but it affected Jake in a way he hadn’t been prepared. You were truly not his any longer. Never would he be allowed such liberty with you.

“Oh, Jake, this is Steve, my fiancé. Stevie, this is Jake. He’s been my best friend since forever.”

Jake exchanged a few rather pleasant words with Steve.

As much as he hated it, he couldn’t dislike the man who’d gotten his ring on your finger. Another fellow military guy, Steve left the service a few years before and met you shortly after at a VA event. You’d gotten involved with the VA after Jake joined the military himself. Steve had been the one to help you through your grief over believing Jake was gone.

When Steve’s called away, you hesitate. Your hand does reach up to cup his cheek as you said, “I’m really glad you’re okay. You’re not allowed to ever scare me like that again, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shot you what he hoped was a cheeky grin.

The way you shook your head while fighting back a smile, he must’ve succeeded.

As much as he wanted to steal you away and catch up, your other friends and family soon dragged you away from him.

He didn’t leave for a little while as some of your family came up to him and chatted with him, happy to see him alive as well.

At one point, your father pulled him to the side and offered him a stiff drink.

“You look like you could use it, son,” your father said by way of explanation.

Your father and Jake shared the quiet moment, sipping at the dark bourbon and watching the party continue without them for the moment.

“Steve’s a good man. He’ll take real good care of my daughter. It’s all I ever wanted for her,” he said, breaking the silence. When your father’s gaze slid toward Jake, he couldn’t help a small chuckle as he added, “But I can’t say that I haven’t thought I’d be giving her away to you over someone else. I would’ve approved if you had ever made a move. Just so you know.”

Unable to form words, Jake tried and failed to think up anything beyond a shocked, “Thank you, sir.”

He couldn’t possibly imagine what he could say to that information.

Your laugh caught his attention as Steve spun you before dipping you in front of your friends and family. The smile you graced Steve with made the bourbon he sipped settle like a hot bolt of lead in his stomach.

That was a smile he hadn’t seen from you in ages. It wouldn’t be a smile meant for him again.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, handing your father his half-finished glass. “I, um, I should probably get to my sister’s. She’s expecting me. I’m glad she’s happy.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from rambling further.

Before he left your parents’ home, he dared a final glance in your direction.

Your gaze was on him, and a small frown appeared across your features.

Not wanting you to ever be upset, he gave you the best impression of a smile that he could muster and a half-hearted wave.

The late afternoon sun burned his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace to the truck he’d rented. He needed to get away from you and your parents’ home. The memories would forever haunt him. Taunt him with roads not taken.

He doesn’t see you standing at the front door, watching him drive away. Nor does he see the tears that spring to your eyes that you hastily swipe away before Steve can see them. Your fingers begin to play with the engagement ring on your left hand.

*****

Clay had been generous in the time off he gave Jake.

Pulling up to his sister’s home, he soon found himself wrapped up in a tight hug. His sister around his neck and his niece around his waist. Their love helped ease the sadness lingering in him at seeing you so happy with someone else.

“Uncle JJ, you gonna come to my games since you’re back?”

Jake grinned. “Wouldn’t miss them for the world, squirt.”

His sister granted him some mercy then by shooing his niece off so she could settle him into the guest room of their home.

“Oh, I found a box of your old stuff when I was cleaning up the closet in here the other day. Thought you might want it, so I put it over there.” She pointed to the box that was sitting in the small chair situated in front of an antique writing desk she found at a flea market a few years back. She’d been so proud of the find and the plans she had for it, sending them all over several text messages to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded at the box, then gestured to the room, “for everything.”

She left him to settle in then.

It didn’t take him long to unpack as he’d long since learned to pack light. He had his few belongings either hanging in the closet or put away in the small drawers of the dresser.

With nothing else really to do for the moment, he approached the box and popped the folded flaps. Photos and notebooks filled the interior alongside some of his soccer trophies and other memorabilia from his high school years.

The one thing that stood out the most was the pink notebook he’d thought he lost some years ago. It’d been a special secret between you and him. The two of you would write whatever you had on your minds and share them, so others wouldn’t see them.

He recalled the one time one of his teammates had grabbed the notebook and tried to read it. Thankfully, the two of you had used a special language you two had created in your childhood. The two hadn’t bothered with keeping a code of that language, either.

As he sank down on the edge of the bed, he opened up the notebook. The strange words and their actual meanings came back to him as he started reading. Small smiles and several shakes of his head followed along his reading.

Time quickly sped away as he got lost in the notebook and all the secrets the two of you shared.

It wasn’t until he got to the last page that he nearly dropped the notebook.

The last entry was one he hadn’t seen before. It was in your handwriting, too. The date on it was the same day he shipped out.

He read and reread the words until they were forever ingrained in his mind.

I love you, Jake. I’ve always loved you. Come home to me, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, now or ever.

You’d confessed, and he hadn’t seen it until that moment.

His heart twisted while his stomach churned painfully. Burning moisture blurred his vision behind his glasses and soon speckled the lenses.

Did this mean that you thought he hadn’t loved you back?

That thought had him nearly tripping over himself to reach the bathroom. The two bits of finger food he had alongside the bourbon your father had given him came up. That was soon replaced with pure bile that burned his throat. He didn’t have much left before he shifted to dry heaving. It hurt to breathe, and he couldn’t get the vice around his heart to loosen.

He lost track of how long he stayed kneeling over the toilet. His knees shook from their prolonged hold. His hands shook for a different reason, but he didn’t notice as much. He kept clenching and unclenching them to ground himself.

When he could safely say that nothing else would be coming up, he rinsed his mouth out and drenched his face with more water. His skin felt on fire as his thoughts continued to reel with this new piece of information.

Had he really cost himself his greatest dream?

You’d hugged him as though you’d never said the words.

How much had he hurt you when he hadn’t responded to your message all those years ago? How did you not hate him for that?

He didn’t deserve you. He realized that now.

If he’d been a real friend, he would’ve seen your message. He wouldn’t have let you doubt his love for you. Hell, he wouldn’t have let you get there because he would’ve kissed you when he had the chance.

That was all gone now.

He knew then he would spend the rest of his vacation avoiding you. It was only fair to step aside now and let you find your happiness with someone else.

If only fate was so kind to him and his plans…

*****

Over the course of the next few weeks, Jake could count on both hands and feet the number of times he accidentally ran into you.

It wasn’t exactly hard to do in the smallish city you both called home for so long. Yet, it shouldn’t have been so easy, either.

If Jake didn’t know better, he would think someone was orchestrating this whole thing.

More often, Jake would manage to spot you and duck around a corner before you spotted him. He didn’t want to make it awkward for you or himself by actually running into you. Well, more like making it awkward for himself. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t say something stupid. In fact, it was almost a sure thing he would.

His filter never really existed around you.

Yet, you never minded that about him. With you, he could be himself. You never made him feel bad about it, either. Sure, you might tease him every now and then, but you were never mean about it. It’d been one of the reasons he fell so hard for you all those years ago. Why he was still so in love with you.

The times he couldn’t escape without you spotting him, he would offer up a wave and pick up an item. Then, he ducked out of the aisle and out of the store. He’d most often leave his items behind for some poor worker to deal with, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back. He couldn’t until you left, then he would begin his shopping all over again.

By the end of his third week, he was ready to pull out his frosted tips by the roots.

You’d cornered him in one of the shops, spotting him before he even clocked you.

“What gives?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

He gulped. “Nothing. What’s up?”

Well, so much for playing it cool with the way he stammered.

“You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

“I’m not.”

His gaze couldn’t help scanning the store for signs of your fiancé. The last thing he wanted was to have a confrontation with you and have Steve overhear it.

“Now, you’re lying to me. All those years as best friends really don’t mean that much, do they?”

“That’s not true. You know it’s not. I…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words he wanted to say. He couldn’t do that to you or your fiancé. You’d made your choice. He wasn’t it.

He could only hope that you would see the truth in his eyes.

That was if you’d look at him.

No, you stubbornly stared at some spot over his shoulder.

He could see the moment you made up your mind about whatever thoughts crossed it. Your shoulders squared up, and you let out a slow, steadying breath.

“It’s fine, Jake. At least, I can put the past to rest now. I am glad you’re safe and alive. I hope you stay that way. I really do. The world needs you in it.”

You took a step away and turned back to the shopping cart you’d been pushing around. Over your shoulder, you added in the softest voice he’s ever heard from you, “I really hope you have a good life, Jake. You deserve it.”

Jake fought the urge to reach out and pull you back to him. He wanted to tell you everything that’s ever entered his mind about you, but he let you walk away from him again.

In an equally soft voice, he waited for you to leave the aisle to say, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

What he didn’t know was his quiet voice wasn’t so quiet. He didn’t know you’d stopped in the next aisle over and rested your head against the shelf. He didn’t know that his words carried to your ears or the way your unshed tears blurred then streaked down your face.

He didn’t see you play with the engagement ring on your finger. It’d become a new habit since he’d walked back into your life. You weren’t even aware of it.

There was someone who did notice and has noticed the change in you since Jake came back into your life. He couldn’t say he liked it, but he couldn’t deny you anything, either. If your heart called out to Jake’s instead of his, then he’d let you off the hook. He’d help you get your guy.

*****

The bright red glow of the clock next to his bed taunted Jake.

He should’ve been asleep hours ago, but he’d been unable to sleep since you cornered him earlier that day. He couldn’t get your sad eyes off his mind or the words you’d said to him. How he wished he could’ve told you the truth.

The words had been on the tip of his tongue, but he’d swallowed them back. Just like every other opportunity he’d had with you over the last couple decades.

No, you deserved to live a happy life with a guy like Steve. Not the hopeless case he was.

Maybe his friends had been right about him. Maybe he did screw things up to the point he’d forever be alone. He probably even deserved it for the way he’d treated you earlier and that fateful day years ago.

Shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes, he tried to shut his thoughts down. He needed sleep if he was going to watch his niece’s first game since he came back home. He wasn’t going to disappoint her like he’d done with you for far too long.

He set his laptop next to him and dropped back into the pillows behind his back. His eyes had just slammed shut with the purpose of falling asleep when his phone dinged.

When he might’ve ignored it, another message dinged. A few more followed until he couldn’t ignore the noise any longer.

His fingers deftly opened the screen to shut down his notifications when he froze.

None of the messages came from his friends.

They came from you.

You awake?

Where are you?

I really need to see you.

Please, Jakey, it’s important.

Jake fumbled his phone as he reread your messages. It took him several tries to even write a reply that resembled some level of comprehension.

Can you meet me on the porch in 5?

I won’t stay long.

Just really need to see you.

He texted back quickly.

In a rush to meet you like you asked, he donned the pants he’d been wearing earlier but forewent the shirt. There wasn’t much need for one in the still-warm night air.

Then again, maybe a small part of him wanted you to see him and be a little impressed with the physique he’d gained from his years in the military.

He ducked out of his room, grateful it was the one closest to the front door. That meant less chance of waking his sister or niece at such a late hour.

You were already waiting in an SUV when he stepped outside. The interior light illuminated your teary face alongside the gentle smile on the man you’d be marrying in less than a month.

Jake had to swallow the bile rising in his throat at seeing Steve cup your cheek. He almost couldn’t when Steve pressed a kiss to your other cheek. You said something to Steve and hugged him for a long moment, then stepped out of the vehicle.

To Jake’s surprise, Steve waited until you stood on the porch under the light with him before Steve started the vehicle up. He shot Jake a single nod before pulling out of the drive and headed down the road.

“Where is he going?” Jake couldn’t help asking, his gaze still following the retreating taillights. “Why is he leaving you here?”

“He seems to think I belong here,” you said in the smallest voice. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself as you met his surprised gaze. “I’m hoping he’s not wrong. Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Jake doesn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t recall anything he’d said earlier that would’ve given you an inkling of his feelings. As much as he might’ve wanted to tell you, he’d been so careful not to put you in that position. Hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me. I don’t think you meant anyone to hear it,” you finally supplied, “but did you mean it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t. You’re engaged to Steve.” Jake spared a glance at the empty street, a frown forming. “Though, I’m beginning to have my doubts about how good he is for you. Has he done this before? Left you somewhere without any way to get home? Tell me, and I’ll kick his ass for you. I’ll—”

You cut him off then.

Your lips pressed against his in a way he’d never thought to experience with anyone before, least of all you. It wasn’t anything more than a chaste kiss to shut him up, but he could taste the berry lip balm you’ve always favored on your lips. He could feel your breath against his lips when you pulled back the smallest amount.

Your left hand came up. The shimmering diamond ring that had adorned your finger these past weeks was missing.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a breath.

Your breath hitched. “You don’t…”

You let the words hang between the two of you.

It took Jake a moment to catch on to your meaning, but he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I’m not sorry I said I loved you. I meant that. God, I’ve meant it for years. No, I’m sorry if my saying it cost you your engagement.”

“I never should’ve said yes to Steve. He was a sweet guy who helped me through my grief, and I do love him.” You stop to take a breath. That same steely determination he witnessed in you earlier that day and countless other times settled in you. Your shoulders squared and your gaze met his with a fierceness that had him holding his breath. “But he’s never been the man that held my heart. He was never going to replace the one I’ve loved since we said our first ‘I do’s’ in my parents’ living room all those years ago.”

In the secret language you two came up with, you whispered, “I’m in love with you, Jake. Always have been. Always will be.”

This time, Jake kissed you. It was a lot of smushed lips and knocked teeth, but neither of you cared. Soon, the two of you found the right angles to deepen the kiss until it left you both breathless and aching.

When he pulled away, he ran his thumb over your cheek and whispered, “You’ve always been my dream. If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to make my dream come ”

"I think I can do that." You grinned at him, then traced a finger down his bare chest to his belly button. Your grin widened at the shiver that your action caused. "First, you must tell me what the military does to make you look this good, Jakey. I'm all for a demonstration."

Beet red, Jake ushered you inside where he was all too happy to show everything your heart desired.

*****

The two of you ended up going slower than your first night intimated.

Neither of you wanted to rush into something, especially with your broken engagement so fresh in everyone’s minds.

Your first date together took place away from all your familiar haunts. In fact, it wasn’t even in the same small city but rather an hour’s drive away. The two of you enjoyed an outdoor concert before sharing an intimate dinner at a hole-in-the-wall place where nobody knew your names.

Jake continued to work missions with the other Losers, all of whom you met almost six months after your first date. While Clay had been warmer in his welcome, you could tell the others had a protective streak where Jake was concerned. Aisha had cornered you at one point to ensure your intentions with him were aboveboard.

You couldn’t say that you fully earned her trust, but you sensed a bit of warming on her part when you assured her Jake was it for you. That you’d only given up when you’d thought he’d died during one of his missions. To know he lived had been one of the best days of your life even though you’d been engaged to someone else at the time. If you could go back and make it so you never hurt either Jake or Steve, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Speaking of Steve, you and Jake did end up running into him almost eight months after that night. While the run-in had been awkward at first, you soon discovered that Steve had used his time away wisely. He looked so much happier, healthier if that were possible. When a beautiful woman joined your group, you soon learned why. He’d found his one, and you couldn’t have been happier for him.

Jake proposed to you almost eighteen months after your first date.

It was actually the date of your first almost kiss. He’d even asked you in the same diner booth where you’d had that almost moment. His fingers had nearly fumbled the ring, but he saved it from a creamy collision with the chocolate pie you two had decided to split.

You’d said yes with tears in your eyes and many kiss to make up for that missed opportunity.

Your father hadn’t hesitated in congratulating the two of you when you told your family. He did, however, make a crack about not paying for another wedding if this one didn’t stick this time, but you knew he was truly happy for you both. He’d even taken Jake aside and handed him a small envelope that Jake wouldn’t show you until later that evening.

Inside, it held your grandmother’s wedding ring set as well as a check for a decent down payment for a starter home.

On your wedding day, you noted how Jake bit back his own emotions at seeing you walking down the aisle toward him. Friends and family surrounded you that day with laughter and love.

Jake’s dream had become your dream, too.

What’s more, it had definitely come true.

You laughed a little. “This is a Ouija board. You don’t get premonitions from that.”

You weren’t sure how your friend, Beth, convinced you to do this in your new home. It was a little older and needed some work, but it was still nice. A perfect place to make a home. 

Though for the few days you had been there, the rooms felt inexplicably cold at times. It felt like someone was watching you, especially when you were in the bathroom or bedroom. And you swore someone was whispering your name before you went to sleep. 

But it had to be jitters since you lived alone. 

No one was there except for you. 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun,” she joked, closing her eyes. “Is there someone here with us?”

“I don’t think-”

The planchette began to move, Beth’s eyes going wide when it landed on “YES.”

“That…” She swallowed hard. “That wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t me either,” you said, your heart racing faster. “What’s your name?”

The planchette moved again, slowly stopping at five letters. 

“Bucky,” you whispered. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Beth asked. 

You shrugged because you had no idea. “Are you the one watching me?”

“Watching you?” she questioned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The planchette went back to the word “YES.”

You both froze. Beth had a terrible poker face, so you knew she wasn’t doing this. But spirits didn’t exist. 

Right?

“What do you want?” you asked. 

Y. O. U.

Your heart stopped. 

“I think we’re done.” Beth practically shoved the board away, laughing nervously. “Old houses, huh?”

You tried to laugh. Play it off like a joke. But you couldn’t. 

Because someone named Bucky was watching you. 

And what would he do to have you?

Ooh. What will he do? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

You’ve been tracing the line of his hip for a while. Fingers light as a feather, lips carving and swiping over the sensitive dips of skin, over his stomach, lazy yet reverent. Bucky lays with his head against the pillows, content to let you touch, one arm slung beneath his head, the other rest over his chest, twitching with the urge to caress your hair, to guide you lower.

But, he doesn't push. He never pushes.

However, you shift your weight. Sliding down, laying your chest against the mattress where his thighs opened, until your face is pressed into the junction of his hip and groin. Bucky’s breath hitches, sharp and sudden, an inhale that makes his ribs rattle and stomach coil, tightening hard with anticipation.

He expects you to keep going, to reach for the waistband of his boxers — that were already pushed sinfully low for your kisses — but you don’t. Instead, you settle in deeper, nose brushing against the soft, dark hair at the very base of his stomach, seeking out the heat that radiates from him, breathing out a long, shuddering sigh of pure contentment. You turn your head, pressing your cheek firmly into the fuzz, settling in deeper like like a comfort you've only just found after a millennia of searching.

Bucky’s brow furrows. His heart thumps a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It’s a sensory overload of the strangest kind.

The softness. The delicate need you show — no use for words.

Decades of his body handled and used to smite or a thing to be studied. Even since coming back, home felt like a story, a memory locked behind frosted glass, and he’d been so used to being touched with either caution, searing intent, or harshness.

Sweetness was never required, nor was it needed for a weapon like him.

But that was miles away.

This is devotion. Dripping from you like pure honey, hot and sugary from your mouth and fingertips and skin. And it's all deserved.

"Sweetheart?" he rasps, cracking with a sleep-heavy, yet fervent, gravel.

A hum replies, low and resonant, a sound that vibrates through his skin and settles deep in under his skin. Nuzzling your face further into him, your lips brush the warm fabric over his pelvis, right where his need perks up, as you find a comfortable pocket of warmth.

To you, he's all home. Built from small pieces of the both of you, and experiences that brought you two together. It’s the scent of him; his musk that sticks to his skin, that blooms stronger as you rest, and the faint, lingering hint of his bodywash. It's all thick in a way that feels like safety.

His flesh hand comes down, fingers trembling, debating, just a fraction, before they dive into the hair at the nape of your neck. He expects to feel a surge of arousal — heavier than the soft eagerness his body previsioned — but instead, what washes over him is a stinging, heavy heat behind his eyes.

"You're weird," he grumbles, though there's no bite in it. His metal hand rests gently next to his fingers, stroking tenderly, allowing the sounds of vibranium in your locks, the feel of your warm cheek against his groin and breath on his skin to anchor him in the moment.

He feels your breath hitch, warm and damp. Inhaling him, memorizing the scent with a tiny huff of amusement.

"Hmph… I like it here," you mumble, voice muffled against him, "You're so warm, Buck. You smell like everything good."

Bucky closes his eyes again, your voice tickling down his thighs, but this isn't about that — not right now, anyway. A small, genuine smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He stops overthinking the mechanics of it all; why you'd do this, why you're with him, sharing a life, a house, a bed, why you'd choose him. He stops wondering if he should move or if he should be doing something for you.

He simply lets himself rest and be a pillow. He then lets his right hand join, slowly massaging your scalp, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear in slow, hypnotic circles.

"Yeah?" it comes out more breathlessly and less like a question, his voice softening into something tender and raw. He shifts his hips just an inch, giving you more space to rest, more of his heat. "Stay as long as you want, weirdo."

"Hm," you hum, "You're the one letting me."

"S'cause I love you," he sighs, words whispering out like a breeze, "I'd let you do anything to me."

"Bucky—"

You go to move, but his palms stay firmly on your scalp — not painfully, just a force to halt you, and you make no protest.

"Shh, just… just stay. Please." His voice wavers ever so slightly, a dip at the end that scrapes your heart like a hairline fracture.

Staying is better than moving up to face him. Allowing him to be vulnerable and feel your presence where he's only really known hurt is better than feeling useless while coming down from a nightmare.

So, you stay. "I love you too."

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“I dunno,” you hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip as you eyed the small plant. It really was so cute and would be the perfect pop of color on your new entryway table, but… “I’m so terrible with plants,” you confessed, your guilty gaze flickering up to the man who ran the plant and flower booth. 

His smile was soft–his bright blue eyes twinkling in amusement–as he ducked his head to meet your gaze more fully. “I promise this plant is practically unkillable. And I can give you a little card with easy, detailed instructions to help you care for it.”

You sighed, your fingers gently touching the healthy, vibrant leaves of the plant. It really was calling to you for some reason. “Okay…” your eyes caught the man’s, and you frowned playfully. “But if I kill this thing, its blood is on your hands.”

He laughed, and it lit up his entire face, which only grew more handsome in his delight. You felt your belly swoop at the sight, at the way he was watching you with a spark of interest you hadn’t had directed your way in a long time.

“I’m Cole, Turner,” he introduced himself, holding out his big, rough hand for a shake. 

You didn’t hesitate to slip your hand into his, noticing the way he cradled it more than shook it, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary. 

“And I’d happily get blood on my hands for you,” he grinned, then froze, his eyes going wide as he registered his own words. 

There was a beat of silence as you both stared at each other, and then Cole grimaced as he let your hand slip from his. 

“Sorry, that sounded more suave and less serial killer-y in my head,” he cringed, broad shoulders hiking up to his ears.

You laughed, utterly charmed by this sweet, handsome stranger. “Noted,” you murmured in amusement, watching the way Cole’s cheeks glowed pink as he started to gently package your plant for the car ride home. 

You took a shaky breath as you hugged yourself tightly, feeling a chill dance along your spine as you thought of Cole, of the fact that you had been genuinely interested in him, and so happy he seemed to feel the same way. 

You glanced over at Steve to find him watching you with this look of sympathetic concern. His eyes were so soft and earnest as they met yours, that you had to remind yourself that he was a robot and not an actual person.

“You couldn’t have known the way things would turn out,” he assured you. 

“No,” you shook your head slowly. “I really couldn’t have. Cole was so lovely at first. Always had new plants set aside for me at the market, always checking in on the ones I had previously bought. It only took a few visits before he asked me out, and I was happy about it,” your voice broke as tears began to flood your vision. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into…”

The longer you sat across the dinner table from Cole, the more uneasy you grew.  There was this intensity to him tonight, an almost manic gleam in his eyes as he leaned in close and rambled about finally settling down, how relieved his parents would be, how he couldn’t wait to have children, how the farm was the perfect place to raise a family…

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but blurt, laughing uncomfortably as you glanced away. “You really know what you want, huh?”

“I do,” Cole hummed, and when your gaze hesitantly returned to him, it was to find him watching you in this way that made all of your hair stand on end. 

In that moment, as a chill skittered its way up your spine, you felt like prey, and it was nowhere near as sexy as the dark romances you read made it out to be.

Instead of thrilled or flattered, you felt sick. You felt dread the longer Cole stared at you, and disappointment, too, because you had been so excited for this date. 

“So, how many kids do you want?” Cole asked, reaching for his wine glass and taking a drink. 

“Well,” you laughed awkwardly, fiddling with the napkin spread across your lap. “I never actually said I wanted kids, so…”

“Oh you were definitely meant to be a mother,” Cole scoffed, a knowing smile tilting his lips as his eyes slowly trailed over you, making your skin crawl. “I can already see it now. One baby perched on your hip and another growing in your belly. You’d be so beautiful pregnant, glowing.”

This time, you were the one reaching for your wine glass, taking a deep gulp as you discreetly glanced at your watch, praying for dinner to be served so you could get the hell out of here. 

Once you were finally home a couple of hours later, you still felt icky at the way Cole had tried to kiss you goodnight and seemed very disappointed when you’d evaded him and gone in for a quick, fleeting hug instead. 

You waited a while, until you were sure he was home, before texting him to thank him for dinner but also let him know that it wasn’t going to work between the two of you. 

The deluge was instant. 

One text after another flooding the chat thread you had with Cole. Asking why. Refuting your shutdown. Telling you he knew the two of you were meant to be together. That he had never felt this way about anyone.

Then he tried to call you. Repeatedly. Your phone blew up until you finally blocked him with trembling fingers, feeling beyond anxious and strangely scared before turning your phone off entirely and trying to wind down for bed. 

“I thought that would be the end of it, you know?” you whispered, gaze distant and fixed on the fireplace as you twisted your fingers in your lap. “I didn’t dare return to the farmer’s market, I avoided it instead. But it only took a couple of weeks before it started to feel like I was being watched any time I left my home. Then Cole confirmed my suspicions by cornering me one day after work…and I never told him what I did or where I worked…”

“Cole?!” your voice was pitched high–unnaturally so–your panic bleeding into your tone as Cole pressed you up against the driver’s side door of your car. “What…how…”

“You can’t just avoid me forever!” he huffed, gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise and make you squeak in pain. “Sorry,” he relented his harsh touch immediately, but kept his hands on you, his fingers petting instead of gripping now as you squirmed and tried to recoil. “Look, I just… I can’t stop thinking about you, and I just know if you gave me another chance–”

“Cole, you’re at my work right now,” you said firmly despite your voice shaking, despite your terror. “How did you even know where to find me?”

He looked away, jaw clenched as he remained silent. 

“Please, you need to go,” you trembled. 

“No!” he shook his head, eyes blazing as they returned to you. He took a breath, deflating a little at the look of sheer terror on your face. “Please, sweetheart, I’m sorry for scaring you, I just… I need you.”

“We hardly know each other.” 

“When you know, you know, and I know, with everything inside of me, that you’re it for me. You’re all I want, please…”

You squealed and jerked away as Cole leaned in and tried to kiss you. 

It was instant the way his eyes flashed with displeasure, with malice. 

“Don’t do that,” he snarled, his fingers digging into your arms as he shoved you back against your car with enough force to make you whimper. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, one of your colleagues was calling your name from across the parking lot, sounding concerned. 

It was enough to have Cole cursing under his breath before turning on his heel and racing from the parking lot, leaving you weak from fear as your coworker rushed over and asked if you wanted them to call the police.

“But I didn’t want to get Cole in trouble, I didn’t want to make this a big thing, you know?” You sniffled, batting away a stray tear. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

“But he didn’t?” Steve guessed, a tic popping in his jaw as you slowly shook your head. 

Curling into the corner of the sofa, you whispered, “No, he didn’t…” 

You weren’t sure what woke you up, but you startled awake nonetheless, feeling the furthest thing from well rested, as your sleep quality had deteriorated over the past few months due to everything happening with Cole.

Just as you thought his name, you realized that he was standing over you.

That it wasn’t just another nightmare or night terror, that Cole Turner was in your bedroom right now–naked, his bare chest heaving as he stroked his cock slowly and shushed your terrified whimper. 

“Shhh, don’t scream–” he started as you opened your mouth to do just that. He cursed, lunging at you, pressing the hand he had been using to touch himself over your mouth to muffle your cry for help. 

You struggled wildly beneath him, something about feeling the weight and warmth of him–his bare skin, his wiry chest hair–it made you feel sick, but it also made you feel angry.

So you slapped at him, clawed at him, continuing to shriek against his damp palm as he tried to subdue you. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay! Baby, please, just let me show you how good we can be together,” he groaned as all your writhing and twisting had his hard cock getting trapped against the blankets bunched at your stomach. “Fuck, I know you’re gonna feel so good, cause you were made for me–” 

Cole’s words morphed into a pained cry as you bit his palm hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to have him jerking away from you as he cradled his hand and stared at you with wide eyes. 

Then you opened your mouth and screamed for all you were worth. 

You didn’t stop screaming when Cole scrambled out of the bedroom window he had left open, and onto the fire escape. You didn’t stop screaming when your neighbor pounded on your front door asking if you were okay, or when you heard the police sirens in the distance growing closer. 

You didn’t stop screaming until your voice finally gave out. You sank back against your headboard, sobbing and shaking, feeling like you were going to be sick as adrenaline surged through your body, mixing with the fear and disgust rioting within your very bones.

“But they didn’t believe me, the cops,” you explained. “Not when it was all said and done.” 

At the sound of displeasure–of offense–that Steve made, your tear-filled eyes finally focused and returned to him.

“Cole’s parents gave him a fake alibi, and the cops boiled it down to it was dark and I was hysterical because I’d been stressed and suffering from insomnia. They had no proof, it was my word against his, and…” you shrugged, more tears spilling over as you whispered, “They did nothing. So I moved here and left everything behind–my whole life, my career, my friends and family. Everything.”

You shook your head in disbelief that this was now your life–your unwanted reality.  

“What else was I supposed to do? I knew he wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop,” your face crumpled as you dropped your head into your hands, feeling panic rise within you as you thought of Cole, of how relentless he had been, of the fact that he was still out there. “He’ll never stop.”

Steve was crouching before you in a heartbeat, holding out the box of tissues from the side table, looking hesitant and so concerned as he touched his free hand to your knee and gave it a squeeze.

You shuddered at the soft touch, realizing that you hadn’t been touched by another since that night with Cole. But this was so different–Steve’s touch made you feel safe and cared for. 

Which, for some reason, only made you cry harder.

“I will keep you safe,” Steve promised. “It’s my number one objective, my sole mission. The whole reason why I exist is to protect you.”

It took a moment for Steve’s words to sink in, for you to realize that you weren’t alone in this anymore, that you had support now. 

That you had Steve. 

“I-I’ve been so scared and alone,” you cried. “They didn’t b-believe me! How could they not believe me?”

“I believe you,” Steve’s voice was soft, but his words were firm. “I will always believe you.”

“What if he finds me? What if I have to spend the rest of my life running and hiding from him?”

Steve shook his head, not one solitary doubt flickering across his painfully handsome face as he assured you, “I won’t let that happen.” 

There was a fierceness to Steve now–in his words, in his gaze–and for a moment, you forgot what he was, and what he wasn’t.

Because he seemed like so much more than a machine.

And maybe that’s why you were finally allowing yourself to fall apart, because you had someone else now to help you pick up the pieces, to help you hold all of this. 

You were no longer all alone in the darkness, being crushed beneath an unbearable weight.

“I don’t want to live like this,” you whispered brokenly. “I’m so tired and I’m so scared and I don’t want to live like this anymore! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

You hunched over your lap as you sobbed, rocking back and forth, your body buzzing with grief and overwhelm, with absolute turmoil as you finally surrendered to all of the feelings you had been harboring and suppressing for months on end.

You were so lost to it all, that it took a few moments for you to realize that you were pressed against a warm, firm chest. That you were crying into Steve’s shoulder as he gently smoothed his hands up and down your back in soft, soothing strokes.

For some reason, the gesture of comfort only made you cry harder. 

When Steve asked if he could hold you, all you could do was nod before collapsing against him entirely, letting him hold you through the tidal waves of emotion, your calm and steady anchor who, despite the maelstrom raging inside of you, made you feel safe and cared for in his tight embrace.

A little while later found you on the sofa, tucked beneath the cradle of Steve’s arm, your body pliant and tension free for the first time in weeks as you slept soundly against his chest. 

Of course Steve had been briefed on your situation before being delivered to you, but seeing the toll everything had taken on you firsthand–and how vulnerable you truly were–it had Steve experiencing something unexpected.

Beyond his programmed duty to keep you safe, Steve felt this overwhelming need to protect you, to take care of you, to take away all of your pain and distress. 

And it wasn’t so much his undeniable attachment to you–and how quickly it had formed–that had Steve’s brow furrowing. 

It was the fact that he felt at all. 

Because machines shouldn’t have emotions. 

Not even top-of-the-line, meticulously designed custom AIs like him should feel.

But Steve couldn’t deny that he felt strong empathy for you, as well as a fierce desire to keep you safe. It was like a living, breathing thing clawing at him from the inside out. 

And it only grew stronger as Cole Turner’s photo flickered across Steve’s vision. 

He’d gone a few steps further than all of the information on your situation that Sam had already uploaded to his mainframe, running his own in-depth research on the offender as you slept. Seeing Cole for himself, and recalling how terrified and disturbed you had been as you recounted your experiences with him…

It had Steve’s vision bleeding red at the edges.

It had him feeling anger, no, fury for the first time ever.  

And that unexpected, unexplainable ripple of feeling–of something more and outside of his programming–had Steve going rigid in his seat.

It had him worrying that perhaps there was a flaw in his design, in his functioning, in his ability to take care of you like you needed and deserved. 

Steve’s vision flashed green as he initiated diagnostics on himself, coding now speeding across his sight, as he made a mental note to send any findings–and his concerns–to Sam once the process was complete.

But just as quickly as the thought had come to him, it was pushed aside as you shifted against him, murmuring in your sleep. 

Steve’s eyes flew to you, softening as he watched you frown in your sleep. 

He moved before he realized it–before his programming caught up with his actions–his hand smoothing over your head in a slow, gentle caress that immediately had you sinking against him and the line between your brows smoothing.

His touch seemed to have a mind of its own, and Steve could only watch, feeling a sense of helplessness for the first time, as his fingers traced along your face, mapping the terrain of your skin. 

As he looked down at you sleeping against him and processed the way you clung to him, how your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, Steve felt something else that he knew shouldn’t be possible.

Something that should be cause for concern and reported to Sam immediately…

Possessive.

Steve felt possessive.

Of you.

—

AHHHH! AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH! Okay, I’m fine. I’m fiiiiine. 

RIP slow burn, sorry to say. Or sorry not sorry, I can’t decide yet lolll. 

—

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It's a rather cool august night; the low hum of the city is really the only thing you hear; your bed feels insanely big without Steve sleeping up against you. Since you're still newer, you're not allowed on any hydra related missions. Unfortunately, your secret mentor boyfriend doesn't have an excuse to stay back with you.

so you get some alone time in the tower and because of Steve basically sleeping in your bed every night for the last month it feels weird without him here you had gotten pretty used to him showering you in affection whenever he could.

You had spent the day like it was a self-care day, you did a bit of everything you love to do since it's been on the back burner since becoming an avenger you ended it with a nice warm bath.

Now lying on your back staring at the ceiling unable to sleep because you've grown accustomed to Steve's warm arms around you…

warm strong arms

“Fucking hell..”

Now you're thinking about Steve's strong biceps, how it feels to lay your head on one or how his big hands feel on your waist which is always too innocent for the thoughts it brings forth. 

Or how his thick fingers feel inside you during mission briefings and you have to pretend that nothing is happening under the table with your mentor leaning close Steve looking unfairly relaxed for a man with his fingers in your cunt while talking the team through a mission plan.

You roll over to try and dull the fire starting to pulse between your thighs, you take a deep breath to try and clear your head but you smell Steve on the pillow he usually uses.

fresh and woody with a hint of his after shave….

you groan in frustration because now you're worked up. you sigh and slip your fingers into your panties your fingers rubbing small circles around your clit just as you were close to orgasming the door opens quietly you stop immediately sitting up to subtly take your hand out of your panties to see Steve walking in.

"Hey sorry I didn't mean to wake you we just got done with the mission early I figured I'd just slip into bed with you"

His voice is soft like he thought he woke you up.

"o-oh no don't worry I was up already um… the mission went well I take it?"

He nods as he closes the door and slips off his shoes. It's not helping your problem since he is wearing his normal sleep clothes, a loose black shirt and sweatpants as he crawled into bed next to you.

 He wrapped an arm around your waist dragging you back to laying down so he could hold you from behind like normal. He buried his face against your neck and inhaled deeply, finally relaxing now that he was back holding you. You felt his nose trail the side of your neck slowly as he breathed you in again which isn't something he normally does like this. It felt more intimate than normal…

"Sweetheart, what were you doing before I walked in?"

His voice was rough like he already knew the answer which you realize with your heart now racing that he probably did with his heightened senses he could smell your arousal which definitely only got worse with him asking.

"I was just laying here trying to sleep" you lie badly a gasp slips from your lips as he lightly kisses just below your ear.

"You want to try that again baby girl?" His voice sends heat directly to your core.

"I was just laying here..." you mumble shyly.

“Is that so? If I slip my fingers between your plush thighs, am I gonna find you wet?~” He presses another kiss to your neck, holding you just a little tighter.

“Please” you whisper softly, pushing back up against him as his hands roamed your sides.

“That's my good girl~ you missed daddy so much today didn't you?” 

His voice is deeper as he leaves small bites on your neck and shoulder. You nod already puddy for him, he takes your chin and turns you back to face him.

“Use your words baby girl” he then cruelly starts kissing down your jaw and sucking a mark right where your head meets your neck.

“Y-yes daddy- i missed you so much.” you force the words out before you lose focus on words entirely. 

“That's my good girl, you want me to play with this pretty pussy?~" Steve nipped at your ear causing you to gasp. His voice like husky as he trailed kisses down your neck one of his big hands roams down your side and then over your stomach.

“Y-yes please daddy please i need you” you whisper breathless especially when he groans in response.

“God princess your so good for daddy so needy for me~ dont worry baby girl daddys gonna make you feel real good~” 

Steve kisses down your throat as his hands pull your shirt off, he leaves openmouthed kisses down your collarbone taking his time with you. He unclasped your bra tossing it out of the way he sucks hickeys all over your chest until you're truly needy and whimpering softly from his teasing worshiping touch.

“God baby your tits get me so hard every time~” He nips at the top of your breast making you gasp he soothes it trailing his tongue over where he bit as his thumb plays with your nipple on your other breast until it's a hard peek, he takes your other nipple into his mouth sucking gently letting his teeth graze pulling a gasp from you which he soothes with his lips pressing against yours again. he runs his hands down your sides down to the outsides of your thighs he spreads them and settles between them grinding the bulge in his sweatpants down right over your clothed core, the friction sending heat straight through your nerves.

“Steve!” you moan loudly steve smacks your clothed clit once making you yelp softly.

“You know better baby girl” he groaned against your neck as he started grinding again his hands running up and down your thighs.

“S-sorry daddy” you whisper breathless as he kisses back up your neck.

“I know you are baby your brain is already so cock drunk and I haven't even really touched you yet~” the smugness in Steve's voice mixes with the arousal as he sits back and pulls your panties down your legs torturously slow throwing your panties aside he presses soft kisses to each knee teasingly as he runs his hands up your thighs spreading them again kissing slowly up your thighs.

“Daddy you're being mean” you huff out folding your arms over your chest your voice comes out more desperate and high pitched than you'd like.

“Oh, am I now?” The tone of voice he uses sends shivers down your spine. It's got a small edge to it that he doesn't usually use. “You can't let daddy have some fun can you? Fine baby you asked for it” He moves back ripping his shirt off he shoves his pants down along with his boxers before you can say anything he's sitting back down with his back to your headboard. 

“You want to be daddy's desperate slut get on my cock and take what you want” you hesitate because usually he's so gentle and soft with you this dominant version of him almost mean it's so different it completely throws you off.

“But daddy-” your whispered words turn to a gasp as Steve manhandles you so that you're straddling his lap, his cock already hard brushes against your thigh. Your hands land on his shoulders to keep balance as you stare wide eyed at him.

“Come on sweet girl ride my cock like the desperate cock slut i know you are” he grips your chin and smashes his lips on yours. You moan against the kiss you know his words should piss you off but there's something about the normally so sweet man calling you a cock slut that just feeds the fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

Emboldened by this side of him and wanting to see how far you can push him into this new side, you sink down slowly on his cock you weren't taking his cock like he told you to. Deciding you didn't want to be his sweet girl right now.

“Baby girl don’t make daddy punish you” he warns sharply his hand sliding down to your neck not squeezing just holding. You roll your hips teasingly just once holding eye contact defiantly.

“You wont punish me your too gentle for that” his face darkens at your words and the bratty tone you used was the final straw he lifts you off his cock tossing you on the bed next to him your body bouncing one the bed at the force your complaints died on your tongue when he flipped you on to your stomach pulling your hips up so your on all fours.

“S-steve-” a loud smack sounds through the room as his hand collided with your ass hard enough that you lost balance. The sting was sharp, though it was clear he was holding back even now he wouldn't actually hurt you.

“Count the spankings like the good girl I know you to be” He commands as he gives another throbbing slap to your ass.

“T-two daddy” you gasped out as you clench around nothing as he delivers another slap to your ass.

“T-three daddy!” you whimper out as he runs his hands over your now sore asscheeks.

“Good girl, now you're gonna lay here and take your punishment without complaints.” he leans over you kissing along your spine.

“Y-yes daddy” you breathed out softly, this side of Steve you've never seen is so exhilarating you feel you'd probably say yes to anything he says.

Steve doesn't respond verbally he just pulls your hips up so you back on all fours and slams his cock into you harshly you let out a loud trembling moan instantly clenching around his cock as he sets a punishing pace.

“St- daddy!- Oh god-” you moan out so loudly your almost screaming words blurring as Steve groans lowly as he continues driving his throbbing cock into your fluttering entrance.

“Oh you like me being rough dont you baby girl- god your pussy’s gripping my cock so fucking hard” he groans pressing a hand between your shoulders and shoving your face into the mattress you whimper as every hammering of his cock into you slaps his balls against your clit.

“Daddy don’t- too much! Too deep oh fuck!-” your legs shake from the force of his thrusts and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body lighting every nerve on fire while simultaneously making your brain mush. 

“You can take it baby! fuck be a good girl for daddy cum on my cock” He pants kissing up your spine, He presses over you his weight smushing you against the mattress as one of his hands runs under your stomach he presses his forehead to the back of your neck your voice is gone all that's left is broken moans and scratchy sounds as he angles his thrusts hitting that spot inside you that makes you shatter, your vision whites out as blind hot waves of pleasure shatter through your body with a scratchy cry you clench so hard around his cock that he actually chokes out a whimper as he fills you up.

After a few minutes he pulls out slowly gently rolling you over as his cum gushes out ruining the sheets.

“You did so good for me” He whispers, already back to your sweet loving boyfriend pressing a kiss to your forehead as he stands walking to the bathroom the sound of water filling the bath tub sounds through the room.

Steve walks back into the room smiling at you awe-stricken your lips twitch up a small tired fucked out smile. He kisses your fore head again, grabbing a water bottle, after he helps you drink some water he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom he sets you in the warm bath then he settles behind you.

Aftercare is always like this with Steve no matter how tired he is he never skips aftercare he washes the sweat and cum from your body pressing kisses to your neck he washes your hair for you while you're half asleep leaning fully back against him.

After you clean he drys you off with a fluffy towel he helps you into one of his shirts. Then he has you sit on your gaming chair as he changes the sheets quickly because he knows you're tired he helps you into bed and only then does he pull on boxers and lay down next to you holding you close.

“How are you feeling baby?” he mumbles pressing a kiss to your head one hand running through your wet hair.

“Mm tired but satisfied” your voice was still scratchy but coming back slowly.

“Was there anything I did that you feel unsure of doing again?” classic sweet loving steve making sure you feel okay with everything he did. 

“Mhm maybe next time you can fuck me that hard in mating press” you smile against his chest as he chuckles.

“Yeah I can definitely do that for you. I love you sweetheart.” he whispers, kissing the top of your head again.

“I love you too handsome” you press a kiss against his chest as you both fall asleep.

He was sex and danger, a song-singing wraith that tempted and teased devotion but only if you submitted first. Preferably on your knees. The black vibranium arm glinted in the strobe like a heartbeat. The stage was set. The crowd chanted and waved for more, crying out, desperate for his life, his voice, his body, and James Buchanan Barnes ate it up.

The Winter Soldier was a star, and he didn’t give a fuck if people wanted him, hated him. No. He was a fucking god, and he took their prayers, their pleas, let them seep into his skin, crawl into his lungs, and he’d breathed out icy flames in the shape of verses.

His voice wasn’t the only thing that had the crowd creaming their pants. His hands trilled over the guitar like it was another limb. Fingers slid and stroked over the strings, caressing them like a clit or teasing a tip. Then he’d whip his hand over the taut wires like he was punishing them for reacting, daring them to break. And for good measure, he’d jut his sweaty groin into the back of the guitar, rolling his hips as he sang into the microphone as if he could fuck the riff into their minds.

Into you.

Up here, he could live forever. Everything he’d done in the last seventy years is wiped, like the blinding white of his brain cells convulsing as they flipped the switch to erase his memory. It doesn’t exist.

Didn’t matter up here. He had fuck you time to waste, and he hit every song like it could have been his last.

After the show, he’d walk off the stage and grab a towel from a groupie who wanted him. He lost that particular taste two weeks ago. The causal fucking, always the same, some person wanting to taste the Soldier’s torrid outro.

You’d changed him.

That much was evident to his bandmate’s with their comments. They’d offer sin, and he would look toward a heaven. One he hadn’t really considered since escaping Hydra. Of course, his Ma’s dreams for him were always bigger than his. Maybe in this, he was only fulfilling a hope delayed.

He shouldn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it that much, he’s sure of. But it had not stopped him from peppering your apartment with listening devices, cleverly concealed cameras. A few in your bathroom, kitchen, living room, and for good measure, four in your bedroom.

At home, the sound of your breathing soothed him at night when he sat perched in front of his computer. The gentle cadence of your soft breaths filters through his headphones. He decided it was like a song, the delicate intro of something that could last forever, like one of his tunes. He watched your day through the screen, listening in on your life while his pale, silvery blue eyes narrowed in on the curve of your ass.

God, you had been so beautiful that night, he thinks, while he clicks on footage from your bathroom. All wild abandon, the sultry movements of your body to his music in the crowd only fed the hunger in him.

He would treat you right. Hold you close, fuck you till you were full and then do it again so you’d forget your name. Forget everything but him. And if you didn’t want it?

That only made it more intoxicating. The idea pumped both ways from his chest, down to his cock and up to his brain, leaving him lightheaded at the thought of you being a fighter.

Bucky could only imagine how swollen and used you could be under his hands when he was finished with you. But he had passed the thought of jerking off for the hundredth time to the rythm of your breaths. No, it was time for action.

**

You slept. And dreamed of mellifluous things, because your body was a honey pot. Your mind had to be gentle, unlike his, Bucky thought as he watched you.

His sweetness. The dearest melody he knows.

Bucky’s shoulders rose and fell with the exertion of holding back. His mind raced with what to do with you first. The images pushed through his mind, and he started to sweat at just the thought of it.

“You have no idea…” Bucky spoke, his voice low and soft, frayed around the edges like his resolve.

“...how soft you look to me…” He said in an almost mournful whisper.

You didn’t even move, sleeping hard, you breathed softly through parted pouty lips, and Bucky could only think about what they felt like on his body. He hadn’t felt this level of calm since before the war. It prickled his skin. Felt foreign at first, but he allowed it to settle in his heart right next to you.

He rasped out your name, and you twitched in your bed. Any normal person wouldn’t be here. He isn’t. He hasn’t been that in a very long time, and there’s something about you that offers some semblance of that. Someone to help mask the memories of pummeling heads until they were a bloody pulp.

Bucky undressed right next to your bed, never taking his eyes off your figure under the blanket. You didn’t move until he slid in next to the warmth of your body. He pressed the line of his bare body against your back. His metal arm rested on your waist and pulled you closer. He waited.

You awoke, then realized and thrashed, twisted, tried to scream until he wrapped both his arms around yours. His thighs bracketed yours while he folded his legs, wounding around yours until you gave up. Panting and gulping down air, you started to tremble.

“Shush..” He breathed hot in your ear, he said your name like it was precious. “It’s me Bucky.”

“Get the fuck off -” And then you felt the cooler metal pressing into your bicep and choked out a tearful sob. It was true.

“No, no. Don’t do that.” He cooed, low, like he was soothing a wild thing he knew you to be. His girl. “I’m here now. I’ve watched your life, sweetness, you’re alone, like me. We need each other, babydoll.”

When he was satisfied you wouldn’t move, his metal arm shifted, pulling away, his fingers caressed your face. Your skin is hot and damp from tears, his vibranium fingers cool and smooth.

He twisted your head to look at him in the dark of your room. Around cracks from the curtains, the slivers of light from the streetlamps cut over his features, making lines sharp, dangerous as you look at where his eyes should be.

“We won’t ever be alone again.” He promised.

____________

Overwhelmed is an understatement to how you feel right now. It was only a few hours of an engagement party for an old friend, but God was it too much for you.

You had only gone because Bucky had said you should and one thing about your tall handsome roommate is that you can never find it in you to say no to him, you know his intentions are good. After all you've been mostly in your shared apartment as you work from home you don't even remember the last time you left it. Probably with bucky he makes an effort to get you out of the apartment so that you don't spiral so far into isolation.

The discomfort is hot in your bones like a livewire sparking a wildfire that lingers deep. You manage to shrug your coat off and slip out of your shoes before walking into the living room. You don't bother telling your roommate your home, you just flop down on the couch and close your eyes.

willing the discomfort to go away wondering if social gatherings will ever get easier between the mindless small talk and too many loud voices your lost in thought unable to really relax even though your home when your roommate walks in clearly having gone to the store for groceries some plastic bags in his metal hand his keys in his free hand closing the door behind him as he slips his boots off.

Bucky, having known you'd be stressed, got a pint of your favorite ice cream out of one bag and set a spoon on top of it on the coffee table next to the couch you were currently laying on trying to relax.

you look over at him as he had a small reassuring smile and this truly shouldn't have been your breaking point, but it was eyes water as you sit up and open the ice cream.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to eat without pushing or trying to fix things he puts away the groceries he got when he comes back into the room tears have already fallen and your several bites into the ice cream usually this would have helped more than it is your brain wont shut up you look up at bucky who is just watching you with a soft concern.

"Can I try something to help you doll?" Bucky keeps his voice soft while he sits down on the coffee table across from your spot on the couch.

"What do you have in mind?" you ask cautiously because bucky doesn't usually have to ask because he knows what you need most of the time before you do.

"I'm going to make a suggestion. It's intimate but I think it could help you get out of your head. Of course no pressure, we can do something else if you're not comfortable."

There was an air of nervousness around Bucky like he wasn't sure how you'd react.

"I trust you buck i’ll at least listen to your suggestion usually they work,"

"This one is a lot more intimate than everything else I've suggested, I think you'd benefit from something more physical to keep you grounded."

Bucky sighs frustrated at himself for lacking the balls to outright say what he thinks would help. You can't help but squeeze your thighs together slightly, heat pooling low in your stomach as you start to pick up what he means.

"Are you suggesting you think I should get laid to ease my anxiety?"

Bucky huffs at how you said more or less what he meant.

"I um yes well no i… god this is harder to suggest then i thought it would be, im suggesting you let me ease your anxiety in that way.”

You look at how flustered he is, which you are well aware that he hasn't been intimate like that since the 40s. It makes your heart skip a beat that he's willing to push past his own anxiety to ease yours. 

"Buck i.. Are you sure?" you ask softly your cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of this handsome man ruining you so thoroughly that you can't think. Your clit pulses at the mere idea of bucky touching you in that way.

"I am I want to help you relax sweetheart." his eyes shift down to how you're now squeezing your thighs together tightly.

"You gonna let me do that pretty girl?" his voice deepening as his eyes darken with lust but still hold that softness that screams he’d back off immediately if you were uncomfortable. 

"Yes I uh please buck?" you tried to come off as more confident in your answer but the soft submissiveness in your tone of voice gave away how needy you felt.

"Good girl ive got you." your breath hitched at his praise he heard it he moved off the coffee table and kneeled in front of you running his hands up and down your thighs soothingly. 

"You like that sweetheart? You like being my good girl?" His words sent shivers down your spine. All you can do is nod already so focused on the way his hands are rubbing your bare thighs fingertips dipping under your dress before retreating down your thighs again. “That's it sweetheart just focus your pretty head on me~” his hands finally slid under your dress and he tugs your panties off. 

“God baby girl she's so pretty~” he groans as he slides two fingers through your wet folds and you shiver against him. “Look at that sweetheart look at how wet she already is for me~” He leans forward kissing your clit making you gasp he then smirks looking up at you as his tongue slowly dips between your folds flicking against your clit making you whimper he moves your thighs over his shoulders and buries his face against your soaking cunt he eats your pussy like he's starving and it doesn't take long for him to quickly have you unraveling your hands in his hair only seem to encourage him.

Every flick of his tongue or soft suckle he makes is aimed to learn your body better than you even know it all you can think of now is how overwhelmingly good it feels.

Soon enough with an embarrassing loud cry, pleasure washes over you as your orgasm crashes into you harder than ever before.

Bucky works you through your orgasm and then presses slow kisses to your thighs to ground you.

“Such a good girl you did so well sweetheart” He whispers softly leaning his head against your thigh as you run your head through his hair.

After a little while of just staying like this, Bucky places one last kiss to your thigh and stands picking you up he carries you to his room. 

He helps you into one of his shirts showering you with so many kisses as you both lay down in his bed. He pulls you close into his arms as you start to fall asleep so warm and comfortable in his arms and for once not over thinking things the last thing you hear is his soft whispered words.

As you perused the latest inventory, you saw a figure down the aisle. Looking up you recognized the man instantly, Andy Barber. His family had been spread across all the local news feeds for a year. You had always felt bad for him, going through the trial for his son, his ex-wife’s mental break. It was all so much for one person. You gave him a small shy smile and bowed your head as you tried to decide between the spotted Dalmatian or the cuddly looking pug.

Weighing both cute little creatures in your hands, you almost dropped them as Andy approached. “Cute.” He said reaching over you to pick up a Saint Bernard with its tongue lolling out. “You collect these?” His tone was inquisitive if a little confused.

You brightened at his interest, feeling your face heat slightly in embarrassment. “The store buys them from local artists to help get them exposure. And look how cute they are!” You held the Dalmatian in your hand up higher for him to inspect.

He chuckled at your eager response stroking a single long finger across the back of the dog. The action was innocent, but it sent something thrumming straight to your core. “You have many of these?” He quirked a brow at you.

“A few, I’ve never really collected anything before but I come back every week for these.” You smiled brightly up at him. A broad grin spread across his face, your enthusiasm clearly rubbing off on him.

He placed the Saint Bernard back on the rack, his eyes tracing each cute little face until finally he landed on a golden retriever playing in grass. “Thanks for the tip.” He reached out and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to head to the cash. “The dalmation’s the winner.” He tossed casually over his shoulder.

You let out a snort, going back to the two pups held lovingly in your hands. Finding more and more he was right, with a sigh you gently placed the pug back with its companions and made your way to the cash yourself.

The following week found you back in the artist aisle of the convenience store. This time Andy found you almost immediately. You were frowning at this weeks selection. Frogs. Who collects frogs?

“Nothing to take home today?” He smiled as he approached.

You grimaced as you looked at the faces. Sure they were kind of cute, but you just didn’t get it. “Frogs. They’ve never had them before.” You tried to pick your words carefully. They weren’t terrible, just not for you.

Andy laughed as your face twisted into a frown. “Come look over here, they’re not porcelain but you might like these better.” He clasped your hand in his and pulled you down the aisle. There were glass pups of several different varieties. You tried to suppress your excitement at his find, finding yourself bobbing up and down on your toes, your fingers itching to grab at them. He chuckled and released your hand and you eagerly grabbed two. Needing to inspect them up close.

After a few moments of silence you finally came back to yourself. You felt your body heat from your toes to your face at your childish reaction, in front of a stranger no less! You cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, juggling the glass pups carefully so you could extend your hand to Andy.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkled in the low light of the store. The wrinkles that lined his eyes seemed to smooth at your own warmth. “Andy.” He said taking your offered hand in his own and pumping it up and down a few times. You found yourself drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. The beard that lined his face twitching up as he noticed your clear distraction at his looks.

It took you a moment to realize you were still holding his hand, and staring at him dreamily. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, it was inappropriate more than anything. “Sorry,” You mumbled, diverting your gaze to the glass puppies in your hand.

Andy stroked the back of your hand still clasped in his with the back of his thumb once before letting go. He gave you a wry smile, “Nothing to be sorry for, I’m glad I could help.” He placed his hands in his jeans pockets and scanned the shelves. “I’m not much for these, but seeing how happy they make you, I may become a convert.” He winked and ducked his head down, like he was embarrassed at the statement. You were sure you saw a bit of pink tinge his cheeks before he did.

“Thank you Andy, really! Although,” You hummed as you surveyed the precious puppies, “I really should cut back on these. I think I’m running out of space.”

He huffed out a laugh, “Maybe you should come back next week and see if they’ve got the porcelain ones back.”

You nodded, but seemingly like he could sense your reluctance, he plucked a beautiful small Labrador from the shelf. “Maybe just a small one?”

When you looked up you saw what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. You laughed and placed the others back on the shelf. “I think a small one couldn’t hurt.” You reached to pull the lab from his hand, “Let me.” He said.

You gave him a befuddled look. “Andy, I can’t let you buy this for me. You just learned my name!” A look flashed through his eyes so fast, you almost missed it. Ire at your casual rebuff. Taking a step back you shook your head, all mirth leaving your face.

Seeing your unease he immediately sprung into action, “I’m sorry.” He handed you the small glass pup and placed his hands on his hips. “I didn’t mean to. Ugh, I’m screwing this all up.” He brought both hands up and scrubbed them down his face. When his fingertips were at his chin and you could see his eyes again you saw regret and something else swimming in the blue pools. “What are you screwing up?” You reached out and placed a hand on his bicep, feeling the tightly coiled muscle loosen at your touch.

“I saw you here, a few weeks ago. I’ve been, after everything, I just.” He hung his head and gave a mirthless laugh, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to flirt or any of this and I’m suddenly realizing I’m quite terrible at it.”

“Oh…OH!” You suddenly realized that Andy, was not at all as interested in the small figurines you had been excitedly showing him the other day, he had been interested in you. “Oh I’m sorry Andy. I didn’t mean to, I uh, I actually have a boyfriend.”

You felt the air between the two of you change, like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Andy’s arm flexed underneath your fingers. He searched your face and let out a sigh, “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?” His free hand came up and removed yours from his arm. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, I’m…I’m gonna go.” His shoulders slumped as he curled in on himself, turning and exiting the aisle, and the store, before you could even respond.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the exchange. How had your day gone so weird? You shakily released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, trying to expel the tension from your muscles. Something about the whole exchange with Andy had set you on edge. It’s what made you lie about a boyfriend that didn’t exist. Shaking your head for what felt like the millionth time today, you placed the cute little glass Labrador back on the shelf and made you way to the exit of the store. You vowed not to return for a while, let you both cool off a bit before another accidental run in.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since your awkward exchange with Andy and you were itching to go back to the convenience store. You weren’t sure what it was about those cute little figures that had completely taken over your heart, but you knew you had to go see if they had gotten any dogs back in stock. You tried to distract yourself with chores, and movies, but you were so restless you could barely focus on one task for more than a couple minutes at a time.

You snarled at your reflection as you passed the mirror in your entranceway for the umpteenth time. Pulling on your jacket and boots before you even realized what you were doing. It was ridiculous really. It’s a store, lots of people go to stores. And so what if Andy was there, he was probably too embarrassed by your rejection to come back anyways.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and made your way down to the road. It was surprisingly warm for the time of year so you decided to walk to the convenience store. Silently berating yourself as you walked for letting a man, you didn’t know, throw you completely out of whack over nothing. He hadn’t even been that bad! He just seemed awkward, and you immediately rejected him without a second thought.

So completely in your own head, you didn’t even notice the silent figure approaching you from behind. Your pace was slow enough that they easily caught up, and pulled you into an alley off the road before you could even squeak. They placed a gloved hand over your mouth, but it didn’t matter, you were in too much shock to scream. You felt a prick in your neck before everything slowly went dark, and your limbs went slack.

Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. You couldn’t remember anything, and your head felt like it was full of cotton wool. Something was wrong, but you weren’t quite sure what. You brought your hand up to rub at your eyes, and heard a low murmur from your right. “There she is, how are you feeling, sweet girl?” You froze at the voice, you knew that voice. You struggled to place it, but you felt strong arms pull you back into a warm broad chest. It felt nice.

Soft hands stroked along your sides, before lacing through your own. You felt the scrape of a beard on the back of your neck as he nuzzled into you. “I was worried honey, you slept for so long. Are you back with me now?”

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you, your brain finally caught up to what was going on. The alley, the prick in your neck, Andy had taken you. Before you could stop yourself you began to shake. Terrified of what the man whose grip on you had gone from soft to iron could actually do to you.

“Don’t be scared honey, you’re okay.” His voice held an edge, but there was a roughness to it as well, one you were all too familiar with. “Just be good for me. Be my good girl okay?”

It was posed a question but you could see it for the threat it was. Be my good girl, or else. You knew you had to tread carefully if you were going to get out of this. “Andy, what’s going on?”

He sighed and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Honey, good girls don’t ask questions. I know this is new for both of us. It’ll take us some time to get used to it. Just let me take care of everything.” He let go of one of your hands to turn your face to him by your chin. Bringing his own face close enough so his breath whispered out against your lips. “I haven’t figured out all the rules yet, but we can do it together, okay? Now are you gonna be my good girl?”

His eyes held a darkness, the one you had seen flash through them at the store a few short weeks ago. Your voice seemed lodged in your throat, and only breathy little whimpers seemed to escape. You could feel the tears building in your eyes and fluttered them closed as you nodded your acquiescence. You just needed to buy yourself some time.

You felt his lips twitch into a grin against yours. “Good girl.” He whispered before kissing you. At his praise you were surprised to find yourself getting aroused. You rubbed your thighs together as surreptitiously as you could. Andy licked into your mouth as his hand traveled down to the hem of the dress you were wearing. He bunched it up above your hips and gently traced his index finger up and down your thighs. You shivered, and bit your bottom lip, trying to contain your reaction to his soft touches.

“You need to relax, honey. Why don’t you let me help you?” You could hear the smirk in his words and he got up from behind you. He gently laid you on the bed and hovered above you. He stretched himself like a cat before leaning in to kiss you again. This time you gave in immediately, searching out access to his mouth. His kisses were intoxicating.

He gently cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb soothingly stroking. You brought both your hands up to his shoulders, before settling by being gently clasped around his neck. His beard scratched your cheeks as he kissed you, a feeling you found somewhat unpleasant as you weren’t used to it at all. You whined into his mouth, and he slowly pulled away.

“That’s it honey,” he had mistaken your whine as one of pleasure and not pain. “Just let me take care of you, you’re being so good for me.” He trailed kisses down your neck and buried his face there. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything that could help you.

Andy pulled on the buttons at the front of your dress, opening enough to expose your chest. You inwardly cursed at your choice of a front clasping bra. Looking up at him with big tear filled eyes you brought one hand to his cheek and drew his gaze from your chest. “Andy, I don’t know. I’m scared.”

He shushed you and pulled you to his chest. “No honey, no. Don’t be scared, there’s nothing to worry about okay? I’ve known from the moment I saw you how perfect you are. So sweet, so beautiful. I knew, honey. Don’t you trust me?”

He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against yours. You saw nothing but truth in his eyes. Still you felt the tears leak from your eyes and a sob lodge in your throat, scared your tears would bring his anger back.

“Shhh honey, it’s okay. Why don’t we wait, huh? It’s been a big day for both of us. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.” With that he extricated himself from your grasp and went over to the dresser. He pulled a silk nightie from the drawer and sleep pants for himself. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

You nodded stiffly, and with Andy’s help took to your feet. You stripped out of your dress, feeling Andy’s eyes on you the entire time. Chancing a glance up at him you saw the steel return to his eyes as your hand twitched towards the nightie. Sighing you unclasped your bra and tossed it in the hamper, you pulled your panties down and stepped out of them, tossing them as well.

From your peripheral you saw Andy nod, and took that as permission to put on the nightie. It was short, but felt like heaven on. You climbed back into the bed as Andy swapped his jeans, t-shirt and boxer briefs for his sleep pants. You turned on your side facing the wall. Hoping he would fall asleep quickly.

He cuddled up behind you, pulling you tight against his chest again. One hand settled across your stomach, the other he wedged underneath your head. He slotted his leg between yours and sighed, truly content. “You’ll see honey, we’re going to be amazing together. I promise.”

“Please, Ransom” you were so close, and by the stutter in his hips, so was he. Your face buried in the pillow, ass up, rutting against him to meet his thrusts. He reached around you, pulling you up to your knees, your back to his chest, his hand wrapped around your neck. His other hand skirted down to your nub.

“Gimme one more Kitten, need to hear you purr for me.” He was sucking a mark into your neck and his fingers pinched and rubbed until you were screaming your release. He let you fall back down to the bed then, fingers moving to grip your hips so tightly you were sure they’d bruise, but right now you didn’t care. 

His hips took on a manic rhythm and you did your best to flex your inner muscles to help him along. With a shout he was spilling his load, so much it seemed to seep from your core and down your thighs.

You rolled onto your back, breath heaving in your chest. Ransom groaned beside you, “Fuck Kitten, you milk me every time.”

You could hear the satisfied smirk on his face. A few months ago you found it charming. Now, it had become annoying. Checking the clock you knew you had about 45 minutes of afterglow before he was making some excuse to hightail it out of there. You weren’t sure if you were up to the act today.

Ransom pulled you into his side, a sigh crossing his lips. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was content. But you did know better. You’d known Ransom most of your adult life. Meeting at a socialite event when you were both in college. Back then you had both been social acquaintances, having the same friend group. Over the years, Ransom had become one of your closest friends. So when he had suggested that you were both going through a dry spell and could ‘add some benefits’ to your friendship, it had made sense.

Now you were regretting that decision. In only a few short months your feelings for Ransom had changed. You could admit to yourself the truth, you had fallen for the man-child laying next to you. You had debated a few times telling him, but you knew it was just fast-tracking the end of your relationship with him. He probably would cut you off as a friend for good measure, just to be safe. 

He cuddled you closer to his chest, and you caught the spiced scent of his cologne. Inhaling deeply and burying your nose in his neck, so you could enjoy the comfort it brought you in these rare moments. 

Ransom shifted beneath you, earlier than you expected. It had only been a few minutes. He tensed slightly before curling you close and then letting his hand go loose. He reached to the nightstand where he had left his phone and flipped through his Instagram. He heaved a sigh when his phone buzzed, “Sorry Kitten, I gotta go.”

Your pout quickly turned to burning anger, “What I don’t even qualify for an excuse now?” You pulled the duvet up to cover your nakedness, suddenly feeling exposed.

“What are you talking about?” Ransom’s face held an unreadable expression, even so his eyes flickered from care-free to annoyed. 

“Are you kidding me?” You threw yourself from the bed and pulled on your silk house coat and pointed at the door. “Get out Ransom.”

“What the fuck?” Ransom pulled his pants back on from the other side of the bed. “Why are you getting all uppity? I have shit to do. Excuse the fuck out of me if it doesn’t include you.” 

“Get. Out.” He dug his sweater out from the pile of clothes the two of you had littered your bedroom floor with. “And lose my number.”

“Christ. You’re such a hormonal bitch, you know that? One minute you can’t get my dick in you fast enough, the next it’s ‘Get out Ransom.’ Like you’ve got some kind of moral high ground. Eat shit.” With that he stormed from your room and slammed your apartment door as he left.

You let out a roar of frustration at his exit, pulling at the necklace with HRD hanging from your neck. It suddenly felt like a noose trying to cut off all your air. Panic set in as you pulled frantically, scratching at your neck. A sob wracked your body, and you fell to your knees, curling into a ball, clutching at your neck. 

As much as you wished this was the closure you needed with Ransom, you knew he had left more marks than the ones that littered your skin from your earlier fucking.

***

Liz rolled her eyes at you from across your kitchen table. You knew you looked pathetic, you didn’t need her to tell you that. “Why did you let it get this far?” Her concern was tempered only by her I told you so tone. 

“I didn’t mean for it to.” You held your face in your hands “It was supposed to be about just you know, sex.” You groaned and pulled at the chain still around your neck. Neither of you had been able to get it off. 

“Yeah, but it’s Ransom. I mean you’ve liked him for years.” Your head popped up at Liz’s statement.

”What are you talking about?” Your confusion was plainly written on your face. 

“You and Ransom? You’ve liked him since that party in college? The way you trailed after him like a lost puppy all these years, it was kind of obvious.” You were dumbfounded.

”And all our friends knew this? And no one thought to tell me?” The anger was taking the edge off of your grief. She couldn’t be right. There was no way you had had feelings for Ransom for that long.

”C’mon, get up. We’re going out.” Liz pulled you from your chair and pushed you towards your bedroom. 

“I don’t really want to Liz…” You whined in her general direction. You were still puzzling through the in love with Ransom for years thing. 

“Hey, what is that saying? ‘The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone new.’ What’s the worst that could happen? You fall in love with someone else?” You groaned, and she at least had the decency to look apologetic. “Come on, we’ll dance, we’ll drink and maybe you can just have some fun.” She gave you her best impression of puppy dog eyes. Which on her looked so out of place.

You heaved a sigh, “Fine. But pull me out of there if he shows up, okay?”

She held her hands up in surrender, and you made your way down to the bathroom to shower. You cranked the water and stripped out of your housecoat. It could be nice to be out, without worrying about Ransom. Without him hanging over your shoulder. 

The warm water helped to clear your head, you knew Liz was right about getting out. You didn’t need to actually sleep with someone else, but feeling desirable definitely wouldn’t hurt. When you entered your bedroom, Liz had already picked out your favourite dress. It was dark blue, and the fabric had a slight shimmer. It was tight, but not too tight, just enough to show off all your assets. Beside it lay a pretty pearl broach and your favourite thigh high boots. You went to your make up table to finish up your make up and then slipped into the laid out clothes. You already felt so much better.

When you re-entered the living room, Liz was scrolling her phone. She glanced up and beamed at you. “This was always your best look.”

You smiled and hugged her, “Thank you, I really needed this. But, one question.” At Liz’s concerned look you continued, “What’s the broach for?”

She laughed at your confusion and took the small broach from your hand. “You can’t very well rub up against someone if it looks like you belong to someone else.” She threaded the pin on the back through the chain over Ransom’s initials. You hugged her again tighter, vowing to go to a jewellers tomorrow to get this stupid necklace off of you permanently. 

***

The music was pounding and feeding your soul. The bass travelling through your body and guiding your movements. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm and feel free. You ground your hips against the man behind you. You didn’t ask his name, and couldn’t find it in you to care. His hands came to rest low on your hips, and you placed your own over top to move them a little higher. You felt his breath on the back of your neck making your skin crawl slightly, this was not the man you wanted right now. As the beat picked up with the next song, you motioned towards the bathroom and darted through the crowd to the bar. You shouted your order, and tapped the bar top to the beat as you waited. 

You swore under your breath as you saw the man from the dance floor at your hip again. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, whisper shouting into your ear something about not letting you get away. You tried for a sweet smile that came out more like a grimace. 

The punch came out of nowhere, and had you on the floor next to the dance floor groper, who was gripping his mouth and rolling beside you. Above you stood Ransom, pure hatred shining in his eyes. It was the first time you had ever felt scared of him. He pulled you to your feet, and swore at the man on the ground. His hand on the back of your neck he steered you to the door. You tried pushing against him, but it was no use his strength far outmatched your own. 

When you were finally outside you could confront him, “What the fuck Hugh?” You shoved at him and he finally let you go.

”I could be asking you the same thing, Kitten.” He sneered at you, “Going around grinding up on other men. The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You were utterly bewildered. What does he mean ‘other men.’ Before you could respond, the dance floor groper appeared at the club door.

”What the fuck man!” He dove for Ransom, who being sober, for once, easily side stepped him. As the man tumbled to the ground Ransom grabbed him by the throat and tilted the man’s face so they were looking eye-to-eye.

“Don’t touch my girl.” The words barely made it out his jaw was set so tightly. 

The other man simply held his hands up, “I didn’t know man, sorry.” He shot you a look before scrambling to his feet and heading for the parking lot. 

“Your girl? What are you going on about Ransom?” You crossed your arms and glared at him. “You’ve been super clear what was going on with us. And you know what, so was I when I told you to lose my number.” 

Ransom simply glared at you and walked towards his Beamer parked at the entrance, he opened the passenger door and waited. You huffed but stood your ground. He rolled his eyes and gestured for the car. “Get in the fucking car, so we don’t do this in public.” At your raised eyebrows, he looked down and added softly, “Please.”

You pulled your phone from your wristlet and texted Liz that you were leaving and would talk to her tomorrow. You sauntered to the car, not willing to give up your anger, even with Ransom begging. It wasn’t enough. 

Once you were safely in, he shut the door and jogged to the other side, he slammed his own door and was speeding away from the club before you even got your seatbelt on. You waited in silence for him to start talking. You weren’t going to baby him through this. Your heart was screaming at you to reach out for him though. 

When he finally realized that you weren’t going to speak he started. Well, he tried to start. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally settling on, “I didn’t think, I didn’t want it to be just fucking.” He kept his eyes trained on the road, his grip on the steering wheel had you worried he was going to pull it right out of the car. 

You hummed. Not sure what to say to that. But he took it as encouragement to continue. “At first, yes. It was. I had gone through our entire friend group and thought why not you.” You gave a mirthless laugh at that, you weren’t shocked, but it still hurt. Still he carried on, “But then the sex, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had sex like that before, and I’m pretty incredible. And you like to cuddle after, which isn’t awful.”

You sighed, this was getting worse the more he spoke. “What are you trying to say Ransom?”

”I thought we had a fight, like you know, people do, and then in a couple days, everything would be fine.” You finally reached to grab one of his hands off the steering wheel, somewhat afraid he was actually going to rip it in half. 

You studied his face now, there was strain around his eyes, and you could see him biting his lips as well. He was stressed. Good, after everything he had put you through he deserved it. “Did you think this was just going to blow over?” 

He shrugged, “I mean, yeah?” He chanced a glance over to you, seeming bolder at your response. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here, okay? I’ve never done this whole relationship thing.”

Your eyes nearly crossed as you tried to compute his words. “Relationship.”

”Yeah, I don’t know. Whatever you want to call it.” He shrugged again. 

You groaned beside him, this was like talking in code, you felt like you were so out of step with the conversation it was making you dizzy. “Ransom, how exactly were we in a ‘relationship’? You texted me when you were horny and you came over and we had sex. Then about an hour later you were out the door. What part of that says relationship to you?”

He pulled the car into an empty parking lot then. Once the car was parked he scrubbed both his hands down his face. He contemplated his words for a moment before turning fully in his seat to face you. He reached for your hands then holding them tightly, “I fucked this up. I know that. Let me try again, properly. We can go out and shit.”

This time you rolled your eyes, “I don’t want to ‘go out and shit’ Ransom. If it wasn't obvious before, I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be the one you call because you’re lonely and need to get off. I want to be the one you call, because I’m your person. For anything, everything. I want to help you, and be there for you. Not just that, I want all of that for me.”

Your words hung in the air for longer than you felt comfortable. You twitched in your seat, knowing that your friendship with Ransom was about to be over, one way or another. You finally pulled your gaze to his eyes, that for the first time looked stormy. You could see something there, you just weren’t sure what. 

“I don’t know if I can say that yet. The love thing.” Tears began to well in your eyes. “It’s not about you, okay? It’s me, but I think that’s what I feel for you.” He cupped your face in his hand, stroking your cheek and the tear that had made its way down. “You’re gonna have to walk me through this whole thing. I’m kind of at a loss.”

You contemplated if that was something you even wanted to do. “You have to answer one thing, before I agree to anything.” You weren’t sure why you were chasing this down, but you needed to know. At Ransom’s nod you continued, “If you thought we were together, why did you never stay? Or hide where you were going? Or make excuses to leave?”

You stared at him waiting for his response. It was obvious that a lie would get you out of the car faster than the truth. “They weren’t excuses. Not all of them.” At your unconvinced look he sighed. “At first yes, because yeah I got mine, you got yours, everybody’s happy, time to go. But after the first little while, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to just stay right there with you. But Linda’s been up my ass lately. Think’s I’m useless like my father. Maybe she’s right. But every time I had a minute to be with you. There she was acting like I had burned down the house because I wasn’t working.” 

It clicked suddenly in your mind, the change in his behaviour. When you went from the booty call, in his mind at least, to the girlfriend. He hadn’t been anxious to get away. He had just been anxious. 

“Ransom,” You stroked his face, and pulled him forward until his forehead touched your own. “Linda’s a bitch. But…just tell me next time.”

His eyes went wide with shock, before a smirk stretched his lips, “Next time, so you mean…” 

You laughed, “Yes, I’ll walk you through how to be in a relationship. On the condition you talk to me, even if you don’t think you have the words.”

He pulled you into a blinding kiss then, his tongue urgently pressing into your mouth and his hands gripping your face tightly to his, like he was afraid you would melt away. You kissed him back with less urgency, trying to pour all the love you had always felt for him into it. 

When he pulled back he flicked at the broach that covered his initials, the necklace he gave you around the time his anxiety peaked. You carefully pulled the broach off and tucked it in your wristlet. He thumbed at the letters, his eyes flicking to yours, it was your turn to use your words.

“I’m yours Ransom, as long as you’re mine.”

***

How proud am I of our reader for standing up for herself in this 😭

Loki's days are spent in routine everywhere he goes. You're on his mind whether he's in the palace library, sparring Thor, in the middle of a real battle the only thing that's consistent in his chaos is his obvious love for you.

Being Loki's best friend has its perks for starters no man, prince or knight dared to approach you because Loki has turned people into mice for much less. 

One thing for sure that was for sure a perk of Loki being in your life was his full attention on you all the time sometimes you swore he knew you better then you did.

Sad? Loki already had your favorite snacks and he'd make sure no one bothered you for however long you needed.

Anxious? Loki would say something silly just to make you laugh.

Insecure? Loki will flirt with you until you're a blushing mess like when you had mentioned in passing that you hadn't liked how this one article of clothing fitted and Loki just said to take it off since he knew you'd look better without it.

Stressed? Loki was already reworking your day so that you could relax in his room with one of his books.

Unfortunately there was one downside to being Loki's best friend and that was the royal events.

He had to attend a lot as a prince of asgard. You being his best friend and the only person that he wants with him at all times were always his plus one.

Soft music floated through the air of the ballroom, a glass in your hand that you're holding a little too tightly, a forced smile on your face internally cursing how weak you get for Loki's damn puppy eyes. 

Loki stood next to you giving you apologetic glances every few minutes since the man that was in front of you both had been just the latest of the many people who had approached Loki. 

After the man had finally excused himself, Loki immediately turned to you offering his hand.

"Care for a dance darling?~" 

Loki’s voice was a smooth purr he knew for a fact his teasing flirting would help ease the tension you felt from another person being too scared to even acknowledge you. 

"If you insist, my prince" 

 Loki huffs a slight laugh at you using his title as you set your glass down gently he doesn't take his eyes off you as always its like his eyes are just glued to you with a soft sigh you take his hand in yours, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Dancing with Loki was just another benefit to being his best friend. 

It was always magically the way he’d focus on you as he spun you around his touch, always gentle never drifted or made you feel uncomfortable.

Even when he pulled you close, he was always careful, always watching your face for any hints of discomfort.

His sole focus on you never fails to make the room disappear like a spell.

The ball is finally winding down after four mindless hours of polite chatter and forced smiles without words. Loki leads you to his personal chambers as always that's where you destress after such mindless events.

As always as soon as you're in his room you lay down on the couch after kicking off your dreadful heels loki sits down next to you leaning his head on the back of the couch.

"darling?"

Loki's voice was soft while falling asleep.

"hm?"

you hum in response to be comfortable to really speak.

"Would it be possible to move to my bed to sleep properly? I think we'd be more comfortable."

You open your eyes to peek at him and Loki is already looking down at you with a soft nervousness in his eyes.

"Loki, we've been best friends for years, yes we can move to your bed to be more comfortable."

You sat up slowly definitely sleepy, you barely had time to let out a huff of annoyance that you'd have to take off your make up and the dress you had to wear for the royal event when in a flash of green your face was clean and you were suddenly in one of Loki's shirts and some sleep shorts. You looked over at him with a soft smile that made Loki smile back.

A few minutes later you're both lying in the silk sheets of his bed, your head on his chest, legs tangled. It was intimate but something about it being loki made it feel perfect like this was something you always did which to be fair boundaries with loki have never fully existed.

Loki's hand playing with your hair made you smile only took him a few minutes to get you to the edges of sleep. 

Loki on the other hand was now wide awake he couldn't keep in his feelings any longer and it was bubbling over while watching how you melted into him and trusted him so freely.

"I love you so much."  He spoke in a soft voice like one you'd use to worship.

It took you a moment to process what he had said, your tired brain so close to sleep you almost thought you imagined it but then you felt his hand cup your face to encourage you to look up at him you blinked a few times to clear the almost sleep from your eyes.

"I love you too Loki." 

Your voice is quiet from almost falling asleep.

"Grant me the honor of calling you mine?~" 

His voice is more rough now as he stares down into your eyes like you hung the stars.

"I'm as much yours as you are mine loki it's just official now~" you breathed out softly because of the way a god like him is so devoted to only you and isn't afraid to show it.

Loki cupped your chin and tilted it up and kissed you properly so soft and sweet like he could pour all his love for you into this kiss.

It didn't feel like a first, it wasn't rushed or clumsy, it was like coming home because it was.

When you both parted for air he smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Sleep my queen you’ll need your rest for later~"

Now safe and warm in his arms you feel truly at peace like you could face a thousand more royal events because you'd have Loki at your side. 

Drifting off to sleep you know one thing for certain… 

“Well, what about that one?” 

Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through. 

Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.

You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.

“Who is she?”

“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.

“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.

“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”

“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”

Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any. 

Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable. 

He licks his lips.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.

Topper raises an eyebrow.

“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”

Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”

They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—

“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and— 

“A week.” 

“Mm?”

“A week to fuck her. With proof.” 

Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it. 

“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”

“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.

“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”

Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.

You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.

He’d have fun ruining you.

***

“You sure do love reading, don’t you?” 

It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.

You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.

“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”

Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…” 

“You find books more interesting than people?”

“Huh?”

He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug. 

“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—

“Are you making fun of me?”

You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.” 

“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. 

“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”

Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more. 

“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.

“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”

“I’ll be your friend.” 

He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive. 

You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too. 

“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”

“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.

It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that. 

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.

“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.

“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means… 

“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.

You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?” 

He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right. 

“You could call it studying.”

You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing. 

“What’s your name, homeschool?” 

You tell him.

He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”

You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it. 

Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could. 

That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.

***

Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.

You’re alone. As usual.

“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.

“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.” 

“What’re you up to today?” 

“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”

He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?

“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect. 

“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”

He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way. 

“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”

“Friends?” You don’t have any.

“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”

Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.” 

Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.

He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.

“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”

Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue. 

“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”

He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…

“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.

“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.

“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”

“Say it. Now.” 

You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.” 

The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this. 

“Huh. Is that so?”

“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”

Rafe nods, “Hmm.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“

“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”

You blink, “What?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”

“It’s not that–”

“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”

He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.

“I asked you a question, homeschool.”

“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”

“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.

“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”

He stops, allows you to catch up.

“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”

“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”

You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”

“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”

*

Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…

 ”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.

“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.

“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”

He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.

Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.

“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.

“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.

“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”

“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”

You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”

He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”

You look aghast, “No! I would never–”

“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”

“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”

“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”

You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.

“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”

He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.

He nods, “You look pretty.”

Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”

He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.

*

On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.

“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.

Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.

“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.

“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”

Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”

He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.

“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”

Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.

“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.

“No?”

“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”

Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.

“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.

You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”

“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.

“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”

The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.

“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.

You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”

You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.

Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.

“Rafe?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”

“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.

“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.

“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”

It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.

“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”

He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.

“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.

“Wow, that was cool!”

“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”

Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.

He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.

“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”

He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”

That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.

He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.

He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…

He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.

*

On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.

“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”

You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.

“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”

Rafe grins, “Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”

He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.

“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”

You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.

“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”

But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.

“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.

Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”

“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”

He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”

“You sure about that?”

He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”

Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.

All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.

You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.

*

Rafe: Hey.

Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?

He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.

Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.

Rafe: What are you up to?

A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.

Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?

It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.

He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”

He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?

“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”

A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”

“What like vacuuming and shit?”

“Yes.”

Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.

He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.

“Uh, Rafe?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.

A pause.

“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”

“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”

“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.

He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.

“I’d rather speak to you than them.”

 “That’s not true, Rafe.”

“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”

“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”

“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.

“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”

“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”

“You’re funny, Rafe.”

You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.

“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.

“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”

He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.

“A-Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–

“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.

“Rafe?”

He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.

“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.

“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”

“Like, uh, at your house?”

“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”

That just makes him even more determined to be your first.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”

“Rafe…”

He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.

“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”

That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.

“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.

“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”

*

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”

Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.

“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.

“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.

“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”

Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”

Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”

“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”

“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”

“What?”

Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”

“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”

Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.

He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”

Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”

Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.

“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”

“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”               

Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.

He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.

That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.

“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”

“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.

You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”

“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”

He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.

“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.

“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”

“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.

He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.

You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.

“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.

Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.

Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”

Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”

He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”

“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”

He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.

“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.

You blink, “Um, water?”

He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”

“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”

“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”

You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.

“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.

“People have been talking about me to you?”

“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”

He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.

“Do you always drink after school?”

“Huh?”

“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”

“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”

He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.

Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.

“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”

Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”

He shrugs, “A few.”

You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”

“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.

“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”

Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.

“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”

You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”

“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”

He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.

“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.

You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”

“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”

“Hey!”

He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.

You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”

Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”

You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”

Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”

Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”

He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.

Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”

He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.

“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”

He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.

He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”

Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”

He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.

“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”

Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…

“There. Comfy?”

“Well, I guess, but…”

He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.

He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.

And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.

When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.

“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”

Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”

“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”

Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.

Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.

He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.

And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.

“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”

“Rafe, maybe not too much–”

“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.

“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”

He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.

Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”

You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”

“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.

It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.

Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.

“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.

“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”

He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–

“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”

He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”

He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”

Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”

Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.

“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.

It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.

“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”

Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.

“That’s okay,” he says.

You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”

Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.

You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”

Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.

Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”

He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”

“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”

Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.

He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.

“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”

What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.

“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.

Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.

You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.

Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.

Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.

*

Kelce: One day left, loverboy.

Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.

Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.

Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.

He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.

That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.

Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.

How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.

The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.

He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–

His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.

“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I called you, I just… How are you?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m fine. You wanna talk?”

“No. I mean, yes. Oh, I… Rafe, I’m sorry. You’re probably busy.”

“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”

“I’m scared.”

You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”

He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”

“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”

“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”

“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”

They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.

“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”

“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”

He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”

“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”

Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.

“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”

Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.

“Rafe! You came!”

You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.

“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.

At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.

“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.

“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”

“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”

He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.

You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.

Despite everything, his dick hardens.

“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”

He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”

You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.

He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.

He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”

“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.

“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”

You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”

He smirks, “I could distract you.”

“H-How?”

He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.

“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.

“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”

You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.

“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”

“H-Huh–”

“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”

You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”

It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.

He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.

Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.

“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”

He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”

“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”

“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”

Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”

He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”

“Y-You.”

“Yeah. And who’s older?”

“You are.”

“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”

You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.

Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.

He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.

He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.

“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.

“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”

“Stand up, baby.”

You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.

You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.

“Take your leggings off.”

You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.

You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.

“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”

“Wh-What?”

“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.

“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”

“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”

He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.

“Stand up straight, look at me again.”

You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.

“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.

Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.

And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.

His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.

“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”

You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”

God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.

“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”

“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?

Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.

You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.

“You have an accident, princess?”

You look absolutely aghast, “No!”

Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.

“Oh my God–”

He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”

“What?”

“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”

For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”

“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”

He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”

He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.

“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.

Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.

“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”

“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”

Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.

“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.

Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.

“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.

“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–

You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.

And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.

“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”

Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.

“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”

“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”

He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.

“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”

You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”

“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”

It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.

He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.

But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.

“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”

Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.

“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.

“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”

He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”

You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”

“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”

Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.

He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.

“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.

You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”

He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.

“Take it out.”

“N-No!”

He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”

“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”

You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”

He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”

As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”

You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”

“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”

You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.

“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”

You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”

“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”

 In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.

“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”

“I am?”

“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.

“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.

Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”

“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.

“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.

“Yeah?”

Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”

God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.

Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.

“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”

‘I don’t know.”

SMACK.

Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”

“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”

“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”

You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.

You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.

“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”

He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.

“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.

But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.

“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.

“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.

“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”

‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”

“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”

Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.

“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”

“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”

“But it hurts!”

“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”

A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”

“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”

“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.

Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”

You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”

“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”

You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”

He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.

“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”

You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.

“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.

“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”

You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.

“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”

“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“

You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.

“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”

All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.

It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.

Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.

“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”

The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”

He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.

That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.

“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”

“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”

“Nooo…”

He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.

“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…

He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…

“Rafe, I… please…”

“Baby…”

His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–

“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”

“Fuck.”

Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.

He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.

“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”

“You pr-promise?”

“I promise.”

He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.

You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.

The wind laughs and laughs all night.

*

The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.

Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.

Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.

He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.

Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.

He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.

What the fuck did that mean?

His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.

That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?

Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.

Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.

Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?

“You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.

He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.

*

“There he is! The loverboy himself!”

His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.

“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”

“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”

Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”

He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.

He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.

“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”

“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.

“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.

“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.

Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”

“Then show us. That was the deal.”

He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.

“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.

“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”

Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”

He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.

“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”

He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.

And immediately locks eyes with you.

And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.

“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.

A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.

Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.

And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.

𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)

Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?

Should reader forgive Rafe?

Favourite scene/part?

You'd been living in your apartment with your roommate, Jake Jensen, for a year now and he was beginning to lose it. He'd been obsessed with you from the minute you walked through the door, but you never showed any interest in him and it frustrated him to no end.

He tried to show you how perfect he could be, making you your coffee in the mornings, cooking meals, showering you in chocolate and attention when you were on your period. 

When that didn't work he switched tactics, walking around the apartment with his torso on show, waiting to see if you peeked at his abs or looked lustfully after him, but you never did, he was firmly planted in the friend zone.

When you started bringing dates home, the only reprieve he could find was pressing his ear to the ajoining wall to your room and jacking himself off while listening to your moans. He'd heard you have sex so many times that he knew every little sound you made, which ones were forced and fake and which ones you made as you crossed the precipice of pleasure.

Being the tech genius he was, he already had access to all your socials and accounts, often checking your search history or messages for any clues of what he was doing wrong, of what he could do to make you want him as badly as he wanted you, but he always came up short.

On this particular evening, Jake was out. Where he was, you didn't know, but you took the opportunity to open your laptop and put on your favourite porn site, slipping your hand into your pants beneath your oversize sleepshirt and tickling your clit until you came with a cry on your shared sofa. 

Exhausted from your plight, you closed the laptop lid and escaped to your room, dramatically dropping onto your sheets and falling asleep in record time.

When Jake came home he was beyond frustrated. Going out with his loser friends was always fun, until they'd all make a show of collecting women to take home and he had to come home with his own fist yet again, wishing you were waiting for him. 

He dropped down onto the sofa with a huff and scrubbed his hand through his blonde hair, before noticing your laptop laying on the coffee table. He peeked towards your bedroom door seeing it closed and quickly lifted the laptop lid. 

It was locked of course, password protected and sure that would have been a problem if he hadn't figured out your password months ago, so he quickly put it in and gasped when your last activity blared on the screen.

He couldn't believe his eyes, you had been sat where he sat, watching porn like a naughty girl, but that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye, it was what you were watching. Somnophelia porn, 'Taking my girlfriends pussy while she sleeps' the title read.

"You kinky little minx." He mumbled to himself as he clicked the back button on the browser, only to be led to yet another video, 'Fucked her awake'.

"So this is what you're into huh?" He mused with a smirk.

Jake put the laptop back down, unsurprised that his cock had stiffened in his pants and he grabbed it through the fabric with a soft groan.

He looked back towards your doorway while he palmed his length and before he knew it he was on his feet, ear pressed to your door listening for any sound of movement.

When he heard none, he slowly pushed down the handle and carefully opened the door.

He could have come in his pants at the sight that met him. You were lying on your side on top of your sheets in nothing but a sleepshirt and a tiny pair of panties. your shirt had ridden up over your abdomen revealing your plush ass and your soft breaths filled the space. 

His cock twitched and pressed harder against his jeans uncomfortably. 

"Okay big guy, hold on." He mumbled quietly to his cock, as he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them to the ground, stepping out of them along with his shoes and leaving him in his shirt and boxers. 

"Fuck that's better." He whispered as his cock relished the more breathable space of just his soft baggy boxers.

He palmed his length one more time as he looked over your form and his mind began to run wild with ideas, ideas formed from your own filthy porn search.

He padded over to your bed and gently sat on the mattress, looking at you tensely, relieved when you didn't react. He continued on, laying down on his side so he was almost flush to your back, close but not touching, not wanting to risk too much incase you woke. 

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He whispered as he roughly grabbed his covered cock and tugged firmly.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, that he should back up and leave but he was so turned on and so fed up of waiting for you to notice him. As he lifted his hand from his cock and placed it on your hip he cursed under his breath, unsure just how far he was willing to take this little ploy.

His thumb circled over your flesh and he wasn't surprised to find just how soft you were.

Getting no resistance from you, he slid his hand slowly onto your belly, propping his head up with his other arm, resting on the elbow so he could watch what he was doing. 

"Been thinkin' of ways to get you to notice me for so long." He mumbled as his hand continued its journey.

His palm soon met the underside of your bare tit and he bit down on his lip harshly to stop the moan that threatened to come out. He knew then and there that there was no stopping him now, he needed you and he was finally going to take what should be his.

His palm cupped your tit, massaging the flesh before he swiped his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden to his touch.

"God, you want this too don't you?" He murmered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to shoulder as he continued massaging your tit. 

"I know you're gonna love this." He whispered against your skin, releasing your tit to slip his hand back down towards your abdomen. 

When Jake reached the apex of your panties, he pressed his mouth to your shoulder to muffle the groan that erupted from his lips. He slipped his fingers under the material, fingering the soft tuft of hair before reaching your folds and swiping a finger gently over them.

When he heard you moan he pulled his head back in surprise, eyes widening as your lips parted.

It was all the convincing he needed to continue on, dipping two fingers into the growing wetness and locating your clit, rubbing soft circles over it as you began gasping softly in your sleep.

His fingers slipped down through your folds, collecting some of the slick pooling before working back up over your nub, while he listened to your ragged breaths.

"Jesus baby you're dripping. You really do like this don't you?" He whispered.

He finally shuffled forwards an inch, pressing himself flush to your back and began humping his hard cock against your ass as he worked over your clit.

"Fuck baby I gotta get my cock in you, waited long enough." He groaned impatiently, quickly removing his fingers from you. 

He slipped his boxers down to his thighs and groaned when his cock pressed between your ass cheeks.

"Fuck." He muttered before steadying himself and slipping your panties to the side.

He pressed his tip to your entrance and bit down on his lip hard as he slowly pushed into your wet channel, hearing you whine in pleasure.

"Oh god you feel amazing." He rasped when he bottomed out inside you, hips flush to your backside.

"Gonna make you feel so good." He murmured as he placed his hand on your hip and slowly withdrew his cock before pushing it back inside with a groan.

He began a slow pace inside your cunt, allowing you to get used to his cock as he dragged it along your walls and gently tapped his head to your cervix, hearing your soft panting and moans.

"You're never gonna leave my cock again, not now I know how filthy you are." He muttered before his hips snapped forward of their own accord harshly and you squeaked.

"Gonna fuck you full of my cum." He continued, beginning an onslaught of harder thrusts into your pussy as he lost all self control, unable to believe just how good you felt around him, how perfect you were.

"No man will ever get near you again." He grunted, hand tightening on your hip possessively.

You whined loudly and your eyes fluttered, head tipping up to the ceiling as you struggled to slip from sleeping to awake.

"Don't worry baby, I'll fill you up good, fuck a baby into you," He groaned, "Then you cant ever leave me."

You slowly came too with a moan, eyes adjusting to the darkened room. You were still moaning when you realised your dream wasn't a dream and you were currently impaled on a cock, a bigger cock than you'd ever felt in your life that was currently hammering into your pussy with no remorse.

"What..." You whimpered softly as your brain began to register what was happening.

The hand on your hip released and quickly covered your mouth, muffling your protests as Jake's lips pressed to your cheek.

"Shhh, it's just me." Jake whispered softly, "I know how bad you've been dreamin' of this."

His cock slid in and out of your pussy sloppily and you couldn't deny how good it felt. You even felt somewhat relieved that it was Jake and not some stranger.

"Left your porn to tempt me didn't you?" He grunted, "Knew I wouldn't be able to resist."

Your moan muffled in his palm as the impact of his cock on your cervix was pushing you towards climax and you couldn't deny you were enjoying every second he was buried inside of you.

"You're gonna fuckin' take it and when I'm done, you'll know you belong to me." He continued and your eyes rolled back in delight.

Jake's hips slapped against your ass and your hands clutched desperately at the sheets. His grunts and groans behind you only served to get you closer and closer to the blissful edge.

"Gonna keep you stuffed all day every day, even when you're sleeping." He groaned and you whimpered loudly against his palm, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

"Cause I know how much you fuckin' want it." He continued.

You screamed suddenly into his hand as you came, pussy clamping down on his cock as your eyes rolled and stars danced across your vision.

"Oh fuck baby that's it, fuck oh fuck." Jake babbled against your cheek as he chased his release.

His thrusts became erratic while he groaned loudly, until he stilled at the hilt and you felt him fill you with his come. You both came down from your highs with heaving chests and harsh pants.

Jake made no attempt to remove his cock when he'd caught his breath, leaving it buried inside you as he released your mouth.

"Jake..." You whispered finally, unsure what you were going to even say. You enjoyed every blissful second even though you knew it was wrong.

"Shhh baby," He whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, "Go to sleep, I'm not going anywhere."

Everything Tag - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club

You had taken yourself out of the house for a change of environment, that environment being a coffee shop in town, where you had ordered your favourite drink and settled at a table before pulling out your laptop and continuing with your story.

You immersed yourself in your fantasy world, plot flying through your fingers at speed while your drink got progressively more and more cold. You didn't care, you'd still drink it but you just had to get those sentences down before they flew out of your head.

It was your passion, writing fanfiction about your favourite hero, building an online following on your blog from like minded people who enjoyed the fantasy of placing themselves in your stories.

You were so focused on what you were doing that when a shadow fell over your form and a voice spoke, you didn't even lift your gaze from your screen, fingers still flying across the keyboard rapidly.

"Hey do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full." Came a low sultry voice.

"Sure." You muttered quickly as you typed.

"Thanks." The voice replied and you just about registered the scrape of the chair opposite and a figure dropping down into the seat.

"No problem." You mumbled once more, gaze still firmly on the screen.

"What are you working on?" The voice asked.

You bit your lip, fingers stilling on the keypad as you skimmed over your previous sentence, now making no sense to you after the stranger's question scattered your thoughts.

"Oh it's nothing.." You breathed as you tried to remember what you were writing, "A story....fantasy stuff."

"Sounds interesting." The voice said.

"Mmhmm." You hummed in annoyance, wishing he would just shut up so you could concentrate.

"Who's it about?" He asked and you released a sigh before finally lifting your gaze from your screen and allowing it to fall over the stranger.

"Oh shit..." You spat erratically, as your heart rate increased and your eyes fell onto the very object of your fantasies, Steve Rogers, superhero, Avenger, known all over the world and you were sat here writing fanfiction about him.

Your face turned a deep maroon and you began stuttering as he let out a soft laugh.

You quickly closed the laptop lid and tugged at your sleeves.

"You didn't..see that did you..." You whispered in embarrassment.

"No but I saw my picture." He smirked and you swore you got even redder, if that was even possible.

"No. God no." You mumbled to yourself, "Jesus I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, I'm flattered." He smiled reassuringly and you swore you went to heaven right there, because Steve Rogers was sat opposite you, smiling at you.

"God.." You breathed, placing your palms on your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down.

"Can I read some?" Steve asked and your eyes widened in fear.

"Absolutely not." You said all too quickly.

"Come on, it's only fair since I'm the muse." Steve smirked and you felt a knot building in your stomach.

"No seriously it's... I write... it's niche.." You mumbled out, because that was the only word you could thing of to describe what you wrote. How could you begin to describe the type of stories you indulged in, the dark versions of Steve that plagued your dreams and the utter filth that you put on the page. From kidnapping, to forced pregnancies, to criminally insane.

What you wrote was the most depraved and dark of fantasies and although you weren't alone or embarrassed by what turned you on, you certainly didn't want the man himself reading what came from your warped mind.

"Niche?" Steve asked with a raised brow, interrupting your inner turmoil.

"Yeah." You breathed, biting down on your lip as you sunk back in your chair.

"You're really gonna say no to Captain America." Steve smirked once more.

Your mouth opened and closed in response as you failed to find the words to express your disapproval and all too suddenly your laptop was swiped from in front of you.

You watched silently with sickness rising up your throat as he opened the laptop and his eyes began to flick back and forth across the screen.

He shuffled in his seat and suddenly rose, face flushed and eyes looking anywhere but at you.

"I need to get going," He mumbled quickly, pointing at the door, "Sorry, I have uhh....yeah..."

He made a quick getaway, door clinking shut behind him and his coffee left forgotten on the table.

"Fuck." You hissed at yourself. You were mortified, you'd just scared off Captain America.

It had been a few weeks since your encounter with the man of your dreams and you were still reeling with embarrassment.

You'd been so caught off guard by the interaction that even your followers had noticed your sudden silence and despite sending well wishes and queries, what could you say?

'Oh yeah guys I actually met the guy we all drool over, but managed to repulse him with my fucked up brain.' Yeah that wasn't happening.

Instead you'd been focusing on getting through each day, trying desperately not to picture the look on his face as he scrambled to escape your presence.

You were walking home one evening, taking your usual route down a quiet path when a hand suddenly clasped around your mouth and a hard body braced against your back.

You let out a muffled scream as you twisted against the body trying to break free.

"Ssshhh shhh it's me, it's Steve Rogers." Steve said sternly in your ear and you stilled.

You whimpered into his palm, suddenly processing the fact that he was holding you so tightly, yet there was no danger around, so what was he doing?

"Let's not pretend you didn't ask for this." Steve sneered and you suddenly felt a sharp pinch in your shoulder and your eyes rolled before it all went black.

Your eyes stung as they flickered open slowly and you became suddenly aware of the ache in your wrists. You tried to bring them towards you only to be halted by something digging into your skin.

Tilting your head back, you suddenly gasped, realising your hands were cuffed to a bed frame above your bed. You swallowed a whimper as you cast your gaze around the room, gulping harshly when it fell on Steve's figure.

He was sat on a chair at the side of the bed, elbows on his knees watching over you with intrigue, as your brain began to process the situation.

"You're finally awake." He smiled.

"Steve...what...." You whispered in confusion.

"I'll make this simple for you okay?" Steve said, interrupting your mumbles.

You nodded quickly as a few tears escaped onto your cheeks.

"I'm getting old, I need a wife, I want kids and modern dating is one minefield I don't want to step into." He informed you, "I knew you were perfect the moment I saw you."

Your eyes widened and a shudder rolled through your body.

"You can't..please let me go..." You began pleading.

"Hey!" He yelled and your mouth snapped shut, "Look, you of all people know how this goes, so let's skip over the part of the plot where you beg me to leave, where you form a plan to run only to wind up back here again and let's move onto the part where we start our lives."

"You can't do this." You whispered.

"I can and I did." He continued sternly, "Now you're smart enough to know that I'm stronger than you, I have contingencies in place, so let's not be so melodramatic about this."

You allowed a sob to escape as more tears freely fell over your cheeks, bottom lip trembling in fear.

"You're real pretty when you cry sweetie," He smirked, "But it's for the wrong reason. I don't wanna hurt you, but I'll do what I have to to make you comply, understood?"

"Yes." You muttered under your breath.

"Good. We're getting somewhere." He grinned, standing up from his chair and placing his hands on his hips.

You couldn't believe this was happening, you had to be dreaming right? This was just your mind playing tricks on you. You'd read and written too many dark stories and now your brain was focusing on that.

The sharp pain shooting through your wrists was enough to quickly bring you out of that thought and back into the reality laying before you.

"My...my job?" You murmured questioningly, surely your boss would notice you missing.

"You sent an email resigning this morning." Steve informed you.

"Oh god..what about..." You began to cry.

"About what?" Steve coaxed.

"My blog.." You trembled, sure it was silly to worry about considering what was happening, but it was what your brain went too in the moment. The one thing that you had outside of your mundane life.

"Your blog. I'm sorry sweetheart but it had to go." Steve said through gritted teeth.

"What?" You gasped.

"When we announce our engagement, I can't have my fans doing a deep dive on my fiance and finding out she ran a blog of stories about me." He said in an authoritative tone, "Especially the depraved, twisted shit you were writing honey."

"I put years of work into that." You cried more to yourself than anything else. Years of work not only gone, but spent writing about a man who had no problem taking you against your will. A man that you had put on a pedestal and worshipped.

"And those years led you straight to me, where you belong." He scolded, "So I think it all worked out don't you?"

You began to sob, breath catching in your throat.

"Now, I'm gonna be nice and give you an hour to yourself to come to terms with everything," He began, "And then when I come to get you, I expect you to be ready to move on, got it?"

"You're insane." You whispered.

"Hey!" He yelled angrily and his hand came down, slapping you across the cheek with a loud thud, "Let that be your first warning, you don't speak to me that way. I've given you what you want, I've given you what you've been fantasizing about, you wanted this, you wanted to be taken."

"No." You cried as your cheek stung.

"You did and that's not all I saw, you want me to touch you, to rape you. "He sneered, "You want me to claim every part of you, until you have no choice but to remember who you belong too. Those were your words sweetheart, not mine."

"No..." You breathed once more through the tears.

"Don't worry honey, we'll get to all that fun stuff." He smirked, "For now, rest, breathe or whatever so that we can get started. I'll be back in an hour."

With that he stomped out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him and leaving you to try and figure out what the hell was happening.

As your time alone passed, you were finally able to steady your breathing and your tears slowly seised.

You tried to think logically, how would fictional you handle this? You'd written this trope so many times that you'd already been through every possibility.

You knew he was too strong to over power, he was a super soldier and you could barely lift a bucket of water without your muscles trembling.

He had connections that you couldn't even begin to dream of, so you knew if you ran or tried to tell someone it would be useless.

Could you play along? Do as he expected until you worked out how to get out of here?

You knew he'd see through your attempt to over play it, to make him think you loved him. No you'd play this differently, he was wrong about you, you could figure a way out of this eventually, whether it took a day or a a year. You were no one's to take. You belonged to no one.

Steve came back through the door a while later and you narrowed your eyes at him as he stayed in the doorway, palm spread on the open door.

"Are you ready to comply?" He asked.

"Yes." You sighed, relaxing your eyes and averting your gaze.

"Good girl, I'm glad." Steve said with a smile as he walked around the bed and unlocked your cuffs.

As soon as your wrists were free you sat up and gently rubbed at the sore skin with a hiss.

"Now, how about I give you a tour of our home?" Steve smirked with his hands on his hips.

You knew there was no point arguing, not now.

"Sure." You mumbled with a flat lipped smile.

You gently shifted your legs off of the bed and stood, taking a few steps towards the bedroom door before you suddenly stilled.

"Uh uh uh." Steve tutted.

"What?" You gasped in shock as you turned to face him.

"Give me a kiss first." Steve smiled playfully and your eyes widened.

"I... I.." You began to stutter.

"I thought you said you were ready." Steve interrupted.

"I am... I just..." You took a deep breath before continuing, "Steve, you have to understand, you've literally given me an hour to come to terms with this."

"I know that but I know you." He replied, "I know you've already plotted out one hundred different scenarios for this very situation, thought through every possible outcome and you know exactly how this ends, so it shouldn't be that hard for you to wrap your head around should it?"

"I.." You breathed shakily.

"Should it?" Steve said more firmly with a scowl.

"No.. Steve.." You relented.

"So, about that kiss." Steve smirked.

You took another deep breath before crossing the space between you, scolding yourself for marvelling at his height close up.

Your hands hung limply at your sides as you perched on your tip toes and placed a quick peck to his lips.

Before you could retreat, Steve grabbed your face in both palms, pressing his lips more firmly to yours and coaxing them open with his tongue. You were unable to stop yourself from responding as the kiss turned fiery and hot, sending a shockwave down to your core.

"Mmm perfect." Steve murmured against your lips before he finally released you.

Steve guided you around the house with a firm hand on your spine, excitedly telling you about each room and his plans for some of the spaces now you were living there.

When he got to the room he was insistent on turning into a nursery, you had to bite down on your lip to stop from yelling at him and calling him a psycho. Instead choosing to nod your head and offer fake smiles in response.

The tour ended in the kitchen, where Steve informed you that despite living in the 21st century, he still expected his wife to do most of the cooking, although he didn't mind taking over from time to time.

"You look good in here." Steve gushed as you trailed your hand along the counter, trying not to roll your eyes in disgust.

"So what do you think honey?" He asked and you stilled, offering him a small smile.

"Yeah...it's nice." You responded quietly.

"Just nice?" He scoffed, "Our whole future is gonna be in this house sweetheart, we're gonna get married, have a whole bunch of kids."

"Mmhmm." You mumbled back as your eyes scanned over the space.

"Now I know about your implant." He said suddenly and you looked back at him in shock. He placed his hands up to placate you before continuing, "But don't worry. We'll have the doctor come take it out before the wedding."

"What?" You hissed.

"What? Did you think I was gonna wait to start having kids?" He chuffed, "Sweetheart, you're lucky I haven't cut it out myself."

"No Steve...Please... I just...I'm not ready." You breathed.

"Well you'll have at least 9 months to prepare, so get used to the idea." He responded harshly, before his gaze suddenly darkened and his eyes roamed over your figure.

"You hungry?" He asked as he closed the gap between you and you instinctively placed your arms over your stomach.

"Not really." You replied with a shake of your head.

"Well I am." He smirked, "Ravenous in fact."

You gulped nervously as his body heat engulfed you with his proximity to your own trembling form. He gently took your hand and tugged it away from your body, dragging it down to his crotch where he shoved your palm against his hardened cock.

"You feel that? That's all you sweetheart." Steve flirted.

You stayed silent, unable to stop your eyes from glazing over as you felt his cock twitch through his pants.

"Does it feel as good as you imagined?" He purred, "I was gonna make our first time special but I don't think I can wait. Seeing you walking around our home, it's doing things to me."

He released your hand and quickly took your hips in his palms, lifting you onto the counter and pushing your skirt up over your thighs before you could stop him.

"Steve..please..." You whimpered in protest, watching as his eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked angrily.

"I swear to god, if the next words out of your mouth are asking me to stop I'm gonna lose it." He spat.

A tear slipped onto your cheek while you stared back at the dangerous man, knowing there would be no stopping him even if you continued with your pleas.

"Well?" Steve grunted harshly.

You swallowed and shook your head in submission.

"That's what I thought." Steve said, his scowl being replaced by a smirk as he slid his palms along your legs.

He quickly hooked his finger tips through your underwear and tore the fabric away while you gasped.

You watched as he pulled the fabric to his nose, eyes rolling back in his head as he inhaled your scent on the scrap of material with a groan.

The fabric was soon tossed to the side and Steve hastily shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs, releasing his monstrous cock and stoking over the veiny flesh.

"I read some of your stories while I was preparing for you to come home." Steve admitted in a sultry tone, "Read all the depraved things you wanted me to do to your body, to your sweet little cunt."

"They were just stories Steve." You whispered as your thighs shook.

"No honey, they were fantasies and I'm about to make them come true." He smirked back.

He took your knees in his hand, pushing them open to reveal your core to him with a pleased smile. He dragged your ass to the edge of the counter and guided his tip to your hole before pushing it in without any warm up.

You let out a scream at the intrusion that quickly turned into a moan, as your walls stretched to accommodate him and wetness began dripping around his length.

"There we go, fuck. You needed this huh?" Steve grunted as you allowed your body to relax back onto the counter. You knew there was no fighting this, so you may as well let yourself enjoy it, your escape could come later.

"Look at your blissed out face." Steve chuckled as he forced himself to the hilt, "Just needed my cock in you to help you adjust huh?"

You gasped as he pulled all the way out before taking your hips in his palms and slamming back in.

"Needed me to show you just how good I can destroy your cunt."

He began pounding into your pussy, his groin hit yours with every thrust, as his balls slapped against your ass and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were screaming in pleasure.

"Fuck that's it honey, feels so fucking good." Steve grunted in pleasure.

You could feel every ridge of his thick cock as it began to slip in and out of you with ease, the sounds of wet slapping beginning to fill the room.

"I'm gonna give you everything you've always wanted." He groaned, "Every dirty thought. Every. Fucking. One."

You felt a hand release one of your hips before it was suddenly around your throat and your eyes widened, snapping to his in shock as his fist tightened and your cunt throbbed around him.

"Yeah I knew you'd like that." He grunted, "You favoured my hand around your throat a lot in your little writings."

Your moans became pornographic as the blood flow to your brain slowed and he kept hitting the spot inside you that had you cascading towards the edge.

"Gonna make you cum just like this." He groaned as he neared his own end, "With your life in my fuckin' hands."

You felt like you were going to black out with pleasure, unable to form a single coherent thought as he continued pounding into you mercilessly.

"Fuck sweetie, cum." He ordered, "Right fuckin' now"

You screamed loudly, back arching off the counter as your coil snapped and your pussy clamped onto Steve's cock, feeling him shoot his cum inside of you.

"Fuck, there we go, shit." He panted, releasing your throat as he sloppily thrust his cock into you, working you both through your orgasms.

You sagged against the work top panting, as Steve pulled out of you with a hiss.

"Look so good filled with my cum." He panted, using his finger to gather up the liquid pooling down your crack before pushing it back into your abused pussy.

"More where that came from." He chuffed, "This is just the start of our life together sweetheart. So rest while you can, you're gonna need it."

Everything - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club

It was almost instant, the way the quiet rasp of Frank’s voice put you at ease as he stepped out from the shadows beside the closed balcony doors.

You turned and watched as he loomed a few feet away, looking as big, broad, and stoic as ever. But even in the darkness, you could just make it out in his steady gaze–that hint of something soft and warm that seemed reserved just for you.  

No one had looked at you like that since before your mother had died, with kindness and empathy–with care–and it soothed something deep inside of you, the most fragile, tender parts that had somehow survived what your life had become.

What you had become.

As a result of Frank’s appearance, a relieved breath shuddered through you, and it was a sudden realization that not only did he make you feel safe–which you supposed was the whole point of him being your bodygard–but he also made you feel less alone. 

You knew that you should probably be more cautious around Frank, more guarded, since he technically worked for Pete, but over the past few weeks since he had been assigned to you, you had gotten the sense that your bodyguard had an extreme dislike for your alpha, and you didn’t blame him one bit. 

It even made you feel like you had a real ally here in this new life that you had never wanted.

After a moment, Frank’s words processed in your brain, and a small smile curled your lips. Not at his compliment, but at the “ma’am” he had tacked onto it. Because it had bloomed into an almost inside joke between the two of you, this soft, silly thing that never failed to make you smile.

“Thank you,” you finally replied.

You glanced down at the floorlength dress that hugged your body much more than you were comfortable with. But it was what Pete had picked out for you, in a color he liked best, and just the sight of it made you grimace as you brushed your hand along the soft, expensive material that made you feel like a fraud. 

“It’s not really me. None of this new life is,” you murmured. “It feels like each day, more and more of who I am disappears.”

“Then tell me something about yourself,” Frank said. “Something about the real you.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt a nervous flutter in your stomach, and something else along with it. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of Frank wanting to know more about you, it made you feel shy, and strangely excited, too. 

“Like what?” you asked as you watched him move closer, until he stood beside you, just a couple of feet away as his big, rough hands dropped to the surface of the stone railing.

“Anything,” Frank shrugged, his gaze looking out at the city’s skyline for a beat before he turned to you. “Favorite hobby? Most embarrassing moment? A secret you thought you’d take to the grave?”

One of Frank’s rare smiles tilted the corner of his lips, his eyes shining with such mischief that you couldn’t help it as your own lips curled in response. 

Humming wordlessly, you cocked your head, lips pursed in thought as you considered what to share about yourself. After a moment, the most random thought hit you, and you couldn’t suppress the quiet laugh that accompanied it.

“Ah, you thought of a good one,” Frank teased. “Come on, now you gotta share. You can’t leave me hanging.”

“It’s so silly and not very interesting,” you murmured, feeling your face warm as you glanced away. “But when I was younger, in the trailer park where I lived with my mother, we had these neighbors who had a pitbull that they always kept chained up outside.”

“Assholes,” Frank grunted, and you glanced over at him, seeing his brows were furrowed as a deep frown marred his face. At your surprised look, he shrugged. “I love dogs.” 

“Me too,” you smiled, your mind returning to your memory. “Which is why it absolutely killed me to see that dog half starved and nearly feral from it. So I started to sneak out daily to sit near him and bring him food and water. Of course he wasn’t happy about it at first, he didn’t trust me, understandably, but eventually, he started to warm up to me. He even got excited to see me, especially on bacon days.” Frank snorted in amusement and you shot him a shy, abashed smile. “He even let me pet him.” 

You were quiet for a beat, remembering those days, that dog, your mom’s trailer.

Being happy.

Blinking back the mist gathering in your gaze, you whispered, “I always dreamt of being brave enough to unchain him so he could run away and be free, but the neighbors moved away before I could work up the courage. I hope he got away though and found a family that loved him.”

“You’ve got a real kind heart,” Frank murmured.

You could feel his eyes fixed on you, watching you, seeing you, and you realized quite suddenly–how vulnerable you felt after sharing that memory, that little snippet of who you were, or more like who you used to be. 

Blinking back the wave of tears trying like hell to spring free, you kept your gaze fixed away, watching as you trailed your fingers along the rough gray stone of the balustrade before you.

As if he could sense how vulnerable and emotional you suddenly felt, Frank spoke again, sharing something about himself in return.

“Family’s important to you, huh?” he asked, watching as you nodded but still couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s important to me, too.” He hesitated before confiding, “I had a family once. A wife and two kids.”

At that, your head snapped up. Your surprised gaze zeroed in on Frank and now he was the one avoiding your gaze now as you echoed, “Had?”

He hummed, his jaw popping with a tic as he clenched it. After a long, heavy moment of silence, he finally replied. 

“I used to be in the army and was deployed halfway around the world. While I was gone, there was a house fire and…” Frank’s voice fizzled out for a moment before he whispered, “And I wasn’t there to get them out.” His head dropped, his hand curling into a fist that he knocked against the railing surface hard enough to make you wince. “I lost all three of them, just like that.” He rasped, snapping his fingers with the kind of finality that left you reeling. 

The urge to cry returned tenfold, but it wasn’t on your own behalf, it was on Frank’s. The silence hung heavy between the two of you as you struggled with what to say to him. You knew whatever you came up with wouldn’t be good enough, but god, your heart hurt for him, for everything he had lost.

“I’m so sorry, Frank,” you breathed, shifting closer to him without realizing it.

You felt the strong urge to reach out, to touch his hand with yours, to give it a squeeze of comfort, so at the very least, he’d know he wasn’t alone in this moment. 

But you didn’t know if he’d appreciate that, and it was probably inappropriate on some level, too. So instead, you hugged yourself tightly, your sad gaze never wandering from Frank’s profile as you watched him and empathized with him more than you ever had with anyone in your life.

“Some alpha I turned out to be, huh?” Frank scoffed, shaking his head. “I had one job, keep my family safe, and I failed them.”

“You didn’t,” you objected immediately. “It was an accident. An awful, terrible accident. But it wasn’t your fault, Frank. It wasn’t.”

“Feels like it was,” he grumbled, letting out a harsh, shuddering breath. He finally glanced over at you, and the well of sorrow in his gaze was so deep, so evident, that it was like a punch to your gut. 

You felt your breath hitch, your vision blurring with tears again, because you got it. You understood.

You knew the loss of your mother–of your freedom and your future–wasn’t the same as Frank’s loss, but on some level, you understood him in a way that most probably didn’t. 

And that kindred thread between you now, it only made you feel more fond of your stoic bodyguard.

Before you could respond or offer any more words of comfort, the doors to the balcony suddenly burst open and Pete surged outside. 

“I brought you here to show you off, not for you to hide outside with the help,” he scoffed, shooting a brief sneer Frank’s way as he strode over to you.

Still startled by his sudden appearance, you watched with wide eyes as Pete wiped a bit of white powder from beneath his nose. His cheeks were ruddy, his hair slightly mussed, and as his bright gaze flitted over you, the annoyance bled from his features as a haughty smirk took its place. 

You squeaked as Pete reached for you, yanking you against him so roughly it punched the air from your lungs. He purred as he dipped his head to nose along the side of your neck, uncaring of your bodyguard’s presence–perhaps even made more brazen and possessive because of it–as his hands shamelessly wandered along the curve of your ass.

As your face burned with a shameful kind of heat, you could feel the stirrings of an unfamiliar kind of euphoria through the bond as Pete’s hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze that made you squeal. You tried to shy away from him and got a glimpse of his devilish smirk before he lunged forward and kissed you. 

You gasped against Pete’s lips, reeling from his sudden onslaught, but just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulled away. 

“Come on, omega, you’re gonna come inside so I can show you off,” he gave you a boyish grin as he grabbed your hand. “You’re far too pretty to be hiding out here by yourself.”

Head spinning from trying to keep up with Pete’s mood swings, all you could do was stumble after him as he dragged you toward the balcony doors. 

Before he pulled you out of sight, you glanced over your shoulder, meeting Frank’s shuttered gaze and giving him an apologetic look as he slowly trailed behind you and followed you and Pete back inside.

It was after midnight, and you were thankfully home from the gala now, but you were even more anxious than before as you watched Pete knock back another drink.

He was “celebrating,” since he had apparently closed some big deal with a new business associate at the event, only further securing his climb up the corporate ladder. 

But Pete’s methods of celebration seemed to be drugs and alcohol, neither of which you had ever really indulged in yourself. And you couldn’t stop thinking about how casual he had acted as he snorted a white line of powder from the glass coffee table in the living room like it was no big deal.

Like he hadn’t brought illicit drugs into your home.

Although, you supposed, at the end of the day, it was his home, and you were just lucky enough to live in it.

Your insides buzzed with distress as your inner omega whined at the jumbled disarray that was Pete’s thoughts and feelings through your bond. You never really felt safe or comfortable with Pete, but right now? 

Right now he was scaring you in a new way, and while he was busy pouring himself yet another drink, you slowly backed out of the living room. 

Hopefully, Pete would just tire himself out, maybe even sleep it off on the sofa, and you could hide away in the bedroom for the night.

You kept assuring yourself that’s what would play out, but you had barely stepped out of your heels, your poor feet aching in the aftermath of wearing them, when Pete stalked into the bedroom, prowling the short distance between you before sweeping you up against him. 

“It’s not bed time yet, omega,” he cooed against your ear as he held you tightly in his embrace. “Well, time to use the bed, yeah, but not for sleep.”

You winced as he snickered against the curve of your neck, the heat radiating from his chest to your back suffocating you as your stomach wilted. 

Because you really didn’t want to be intimate with Pete.

Despite the way your inner omega perked up to be desired by your alpha, your logical mind would never forget–or forgive–the way he had treated you the first time you had sex. The way he had hurt you and humiliated you. 

You felt sick just thinking about it.

“Don’t do that,” Pete snapped, feeling how distraught you were becoming through the bond. “You have one purpose, omega, to keep me satisfied. And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

You could feel him growing hard against your ass, and you closed your eyes, trying to just sink into him. To just make him happy and get it over with. 

Because you didn’t want him to hurt you again. You didn’t want him to spew vile things at you that no omega should ever hear from her alpha.

Maybe you could just pretend that you wanted this–wanted Pete. Maybe you could somehow shut off your brain and heart and everything that was screaming at full volume how much you wished that Pete wasn’t your alpha. That you weren’t here right now. That none of this had ever happened.

“Fucking goddamnit,” Pete snarled, shoving away from you.

Startled as you blinked back to the present moment, you hunched your shoulders and hugged yourself tightly as you turned toward Pete. You watched as he cupped the front of his pants, which didn’t seem to be bulging as much as it had felt like against you just a moment ago. 

Grunting, Pete rubbed himself through his slacks, his cheeks growing pinker by the second as he closed his eyes and muttered to himself. 

Releasing a shaky breath, his eyes popped open and his head snapped up, and you went rigid to be caught in his dark gaze that was stewing with a whole lot of malice.

With a whole lot of accusation, too. 

As if the way his body was responding to your distress was your fault. But you knew that in Pete’s mind, it was. 

“Ditch the dress,” he alpha commanded you. “I just need a little show, that’s all. Let me see what’s mine, omega.”

Your body obeyed his command without pause, even as your insides withered. Your mind sank deeper into that quiet space where it felt safest as you stared at Pete, unseeing, as your dress pooled at your feet. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Look at you,” Pete cooed, hastily shucking his pants and boxer briefs before moving toward you.

As he tugged you against him, you stared over his shoulder, your gaze fixed on the pretty, expensive sconce beside the bedroom door. The way its frosted glass was overflowing with a soft, soothing amber light.

Distantly, you felt the back of your throat burn with bile as Pete hummed and groaned, his fingers deft as he plucked off your bra before crouching to tug down your panties. You squirmed as he hovered before your bare cunt, breathing in deep and groaning some more at the scent of you.

Your gaze was torn from the sconce as Pete corralled you toward the bed before shoving you down onto it. You stared at the ceiling now instead as he roughly shoved your legs apart, so wide your muscles ached with the stretch, as he knelt between your legs and tugged you to the edge of the mattress. 

“Your alpha’s gonna make you feel so good, omega, and then you’re gonna return the favor,” Pete gritted, his smooth palms skimming up the insides of your thighs.

You felt aflame–but not from lust–to be laid prone and lewdly spread before him. Your skin was crawling with humiliation, your stomach roiling, and all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

You didn’t want Pete to make you feel good. You didn’t want him to touch you at all. 

“Please,” the soft, quavering plea fell from your lips before you could stop it. 

“Aw don’t worry, baby, I’m not gonna make you beg for it,” Pete snickered. 

“No, I–” you squeaked as Pete ducked close and you snapped your legs shut without thinking, trying to pull away from him.

“Don’t,” he gritted, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your thighs as he pried them open. His next words were another authoritative alpha command, “Be good and stop ruining my fucking fun.”

Even as your legs fell open at his directive, there was a rigidness to you that not even Pete’s alpha command could melt away. Your fingers were curled tightly into the blankets at either side of you, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to make yourself float away–escape this, escape him–until he was finished using you. 

It was the strangest feeling–like there was a disconnect between your body and mind–as Pete began to lave your bare cunt with the attention of his mouth, but none of it would register in your brain as pleasure, let alone your own. 

Distantly, you were aware of the stray plucks deep in your core that responded to his tongue lapping at your clit, and the way you were growing wet despite not wanting this in the least, but it was almost as if you were a witness to your own ruin, not the recipient of it. 

“Yeah, see, look at how wet and messy this cunt is getting,” Pete husked, smearing your juices all around your folds. “You always gotta be so fucking difficult, but at the end of the day, you want me and my cock, omega.”

No, no, no played on repeat in your head, and you weren’t sure if it was in response to Pete’s claim, or the fact that he was stretching out over top of you and aligning his finally hard cock with your entrance. 

You tried to ignore the way the head of him stretched your hole, you tried to block out the deep, throaty sound of his groan as he slowly slid inside of you. You wanted more than anything not to feel each and every inch of Pete’s length fill you up, stretch you, bottom out deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, giving another groan as he rutted against you, shoving his cock as far as it could go and ignoring the pained yelp that spilled from your lips as a result. 

It was the pain of his insistent invasion that sadly had you plummeting back down to earth–back into your body–and you whined as Pete started to hammer into you without any warning or build up whatsoever. 

It was like he didn’t want to waste his erection, especially after all the trouble he had had as of late getting hard and staying that way. And there was a different kind of desperation to him now, not just to feel good or to cum, but to prove that he was a man, an alpha, that he could fuck you the way he felt he should be able to. 

All of this filtered through the bond you shared with Pete as he pounded into you without relent. If it wasn’t for the way he grabbed your wrists as you tried to shove at his chest and harshly pinned them down above your head, you would have thought he wasn’t even aware of you at all. 

But then, his feral, lust-blown gaze met your teary one. 

“Please,” you whimpered as you squirmed beneath him. “You’re hurting me.”

“No,” Pete panted, his hips going harder and making you squeal as you writhed beneath him. “I’m taking what’s mine.”

“Pete, please–”

“Hush!” he snapped, covering your mouth with one of his hands as he sank against you more fully. “Be quiet, and good, and let me fucking finish,” he alpha commanded through his teeth. 

All you could do was what you were told, enduring the pain of Pete’s frantic fucking of you as you stared up into his manic gaze, a few tears escaping your own.

Because it was like his eyes were vacant as he watched you–completely devoid of any real emotion, attachment, or care–just blazing with a greedy, primal need that you knew any hole or omega could fill. 

The devastation of that realization didn’t get a chance to fully hit you before Pete was giving a long, obscene groan as he finally orgasmed. His thrusts were stilted now, deep and lingering as he moaned and pumped you full of his cum.

“Fuccccck, yes!” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as his mouth hung open and he lost himself to his pleasure, to his release, to his conquering of you. 

Your body was throbbing, the tension coiling your muscles so tightly that it hurt as Pete finally retreated from your body. Revulsion speckled all along your sweaty skin as he sank back on his haunches, shoved your legs wide open, and watched his cum dribble from your abused cunt with an arrogant smirk curling his lips. 

You jerked as Pete swiped up the creamy mess with his fingers before leaning over you and shoving it into your mouth. You choked on his fingers, and the disgusting brine coating your tongue now, as Pete’s eyes glittered at you. 

“Swallow,” he hummed the alpha command, shoving his cum toward the back of your tongue and nearly grinning as you gagged before forcing yourself to do what you were told. 

He pulled away, both this body from yours and his fingers from your mouth, wiping them along your bare thigh without care. 

“Thank your alpha for taking such good care of you,” Pete purred another alpha command. 

“Thank you, alpha,” the words sounded flat and lifeless as they were forced from your lips, your vision blurring completely with your tears now as your voice quavered as you whispered, “for taking such good care of me.”

Because that wasn’t what had just happened–it was the furthest thing from the truth–and you knew that you would never experience real, genuine care at the hands of Pete.

Grinning big, he gave a contented sigh as he flopped down on the bed beside you, and it wasn’t long at all before he passed out cold, surely aided by the cocktail of drugs and alcohol in his system. 

You supposed you should be grateful that his illicit activities aided you in this small way. But at the moment, all you felt was sick.

You were careful not to wake Pete as you slid from the bed, wincing as your tender cunt burned and throbbed from being so harshly used. For some reason, it was the sight of your fingers trembling so hard it took you two tries to pluck your robe from the hook of the closet door that nearly broke you. 

Trying to take a calming breath that barely squeezed past the hard lump in your throat, you slipped from the bedroom, then darted into the guest suite across the hall. You locked yourself away in the bathroom, and it was like now that you were finally alone, your body was starting to feel again–to process. 

You barely made it to the toilet before you heaved up all of the contents of your stomach. Your throat burned and tears streamed from your eyes as you heaved until your body slumped in exhaustion over the porcelain bowl. 

Even through the sour bile coating your tongue, you swore you could still taste Pete’s cum, and it had you gagging all over again as you grabbed onto the edge of the bathroom counter and hefted yourself to your feet. 

You wobbled as you rummaged through the bathroom drawers, feeling a small bit of relief as you unearthed a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. You used them both to scrub your mouth clean, rinsing thoroughly, desperately, until all you could taste was the minty remnants of toothpaste. 

You rinsed your face with cold water next, patting your skin dry with a nearby hand towel, unable to avoid the sight of your reflection in the large mirror hanging over the sink–the haunted, miserable gaze of the stranger staring back at you. 

You nearly lost it all over again, but tried to shove down the deluge of distress and unhappiness that was swirling inside of you. You made yourself focus on getting cleaned up, on relieving yourself. 

It was a stray thought that gave you a tiny modicum of relief and purpose–and a way to avoid Pete for as long as possible, too–that you should sneak up to the rooftop garden. It was your own little reprieve, and in this moment, you needed that more than ever. 

You felt numb as you slipped from the guest room, hugging yourself tightly and pulling up short at the sight of Frank leaning against the wall across from you.

It was after hours for him, he technically clocked out once you and Pete returned home, the overnight team taking over and settling into the quiet shadows on the perimeter of your home.

And for some reason, his presence right here, right now, made you feel ashamed. Because he was seeing you at your worst, at your lowest, in the aftermath of being used by the person who should care for and covet you most.  

That thought nearly had your features crumpling again, but you tried to be strong–to be stoic, like Frank. Although the glimpse of his concern for you shining in his gaze made it all the harder. 

So you looked away, dropped your eyes to the floor and curled your shoulders as if they could ward off the reality of your life as you turned and slowly made your way to the roof, Frank faithfully trailing behind you as you went.

You shivered as you curled up on your favorite lounger, and just a second later, Frank was looming over you, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out to you. 

Eyes filling with tears at his kind gesture–at his little act of care, for you–you just stared at the proffered garment for a moment before your gaze slowly lifted to meet his. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice a ragged, broken thing. 

When you reached out to accept Frank’s offering, the silk sleeve of your robe fell back, pooling at your elbow and drawing your bodyguard’s gaze. 

You saw him go rigid, his eyes flashing with fury and his nostrils flaring, and when your confused gaze followed his own, it landed on your bare wrist, and the way it was darkening already with finger-shaped bruises. 

From where Pete had held you down when you tried to push him off of you, when you tried to stop his assault. 

A new and different kind of shame rose up within you, and you quickly retracted your arm, hugging it against your chest as you curled in on yourself. 

Those tears you had tried so hard to keep at bay finally started to fall, and you hid your face in your hands as you cried, as you grieved for all that you had lost, all that you had become, and all that you had to continue to endure.  

The fact that Frank was there to bear witness to it all, somehow made it feel more real. It made it harder to avoid.

And that just made you cry harder.

You were so lost to your pain and distress, that you didn’t realize Frank had sat down beside you. That he had gently draped his jacket over you as you wept. 

That his big, rough hands were clenched tight atop his thighs, like he was retraining himself from reaching out to you, from touching you. 

But when his quiet voice rumbled from beside you, even through your tears and misery, you heard him. You heard him as he told you, “You’re so strong, omega, so good and kind and brave. And you’ll be okay, you hear me? He won’t hurt you again, I’ll make sure of it.”

I am not okaaaaay 😭 Although I’m sure @krirebr will be delighted by the degree of angst here, it actually wasn’t my original plan, but here we are. There's still a light at the end of the tunnel though.

—

Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, and if you catch me on a bad day, you may even get blocked for it.

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

“They’re here.” Your coworker Stacy bumps your shoulders, her eyes wide and fixed across the room. “Holy shit, they’re actually here-“

“It’s their fundraiser.” You mutter, keeping your attention on a senator bumbling about near the drinks. “It would be crazy if they weren’t here.”

“Yeah, but- It’s all of them. I’ve never seen all of them-“

“Yes, you have.”

Stacy glares at you. “Well, not so close.”

You glance over, pointedly only looking at their feet. “They’re not that close.”

“I could touch one.” Stacy breathes, and you snort.

“You should go try that.”

That earns you another glare, and a smack on the arm. And you deserve it, but you just laugh and look back to your target. The tipsy, red-eyed senator who’s going to have a few more drinks, and tells you all about that bill congress is trying to pass about the Enhanced. You’ve read it three times, and it’s a disgusting invasion of privacy, but those documents were off the record. If you can get a Senator, talking about how he wants to force all superheroes to either be sterilized or record their sex lives-

Stacy pinches your arm, and you squeak so loudly it echoes off the domed, ballroom ceiling. Some attention darts in your direction, but everyone quickly loses interest when they realize it’s nothing all that interesting. Your face is burning as you smooth your dress, and it doesn’t stop burning. It feels like someone is tending to the hot embarrassment, fluttering in your tummy and restless in your fingers. Like someone is looking right through you, monitoring you, watching you-

“He’s looking at you.” Stacy hisses in your ear, buzzing with so much excitement you’re sure she’s about to turn into glitter and explode like fireworks, and you’re going to throttle her.

“He is now, because you,” you shove her shoulder. It doesn’t do anything to stamp out her thrill at your worst nightmare. “Fucking made him notice-“

“No, he was looking before-“

“No, he wasn’t-“

“Yes, he was-“

“No, he wasn’t-“

“Who wasn’t what.”

You freeze, and Stacy looks over your head with a fawning, dazed expression. You’re going to kill her. You’re going to cut her up into tiny pieces and burn them all in separate furnaces, and then you’re going to steal her dog and make it forget all about her, and marry her husband and make her cute little kid your Cinderella as bloodline punishment-

“Hi, Mr. Captain Sir.” She giggles, looking back down to you with a wide-eyed it’s him expression.

I’m going to kill you. You mouth. She doesn’t seem all that bothered by the threat.

“Uh- Hi. You don’t have to-“ You hear him shift on his feet behind you. “Steve is alright.”

You can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, trying to look smaller. More humble and approachable, when he’s a modern walking Hercules. A better version, who doesn’t kill his wife and kids. Who gets you drinks and tries to be your friend and is so stupidly polite and kind and you hate him, you hate him so much-

He says your name. You plaster on the widest, most plastic and sickly sweet smile you can manage. You want him to feel like you’re a bit of plastic that’s stuck between his teeth. To give up talking to you, because it’s not fair.

Steve’s just as handsome as the last time you saw him. And the time before that. And the time before that. If anything, he’s more handsome. You don’t know how he does it, changing absolutely nothing about his appearance and looking hotter every time you get eyes on him. His hair is styled the same as always, but it looks so soft. You could run your fingers through it and it would probably feel like a cloud. His stupid, sharp jawline is slack as you glare up at him, and he’s so tall it makes you dizzy, and he’s fixing you with that puppy look that makes you feel like you’re important to him.

And you’re not. You know you’re not.

You went down that road once. You tried to be important to him, and he said no. And he’s Steve, so he was sweet and perfectly kind about it, and still wanted to be your friend, and you’d thought you were already over it so you’d said yes.

You thought you could just be his friend. He hadn’t made anything weird. Neither of you had ever even brought up your failed attempt to ask him out again. And at the time, you’d thought you were over it.

But Steve is Steve. And he’s got some titanic hold over your heart that’s left finger marks dug in through the landscape. There’s a depression over the cavity of your chest, and your ribs have molded to fit it, and now it’s far too late to go back. You only know how to have feelings for him. You’ve tried to get over it. To ignore it. To forcibly re-mold your love into something platonic, or clawed your way through some relationships in the hope they’d help you move on.

They don’t. They won’t. Nothing can.

The big stupid boy-scout standing over you owns you completely, and you can’t even tell him without making it a problem.

Your new strategy had been to ignore him. Stacy ruined that.

She thinks he secretly has feelings for you. You tune her out every time she starts to crow and preach about it, because you know your heart is going to take it as gospel and not parody, and you can’t afford false faith. All you have is what’s grounded between your fingers.

Steve’s right here. He’s smiling at you, all pretty and nice, and you have to smile back or else it will make him feel bad. He’s got a drink in his massive hand for you. You’ve had a million wet dreams about that hand around your throat or cupping your pussy.

You’re aching thinking about it. In an ideal world, this would be the part where you ran without looking back.

In an ideal world, you’d be standing on his arm right now, instead of all stiff and weird in front of him.

You need to get a fucking grip.

“Hi.” You say, and it’s sounds lame and idiotic and pathetic-

Steve’s face splits into a big, happy smile. “Hi. How’s the night going for you, do you have your victim picked out?”

You scowl. “It’s not- They’re not victims-“

“You treat them like they’re victims.” His grin widens. “Sometimes I feel like I should be saving them.”

“They’re all fine. It’s not like I’m drugging them or something.”

Steve’s brows raise. “That makes me think you are drugging them.”

“Nuh uh.” You stick out your tongue, and he laughs under his breath.

“One day you’re gonna say something that actually gets you in trouble, you know.” He holds out the drink he brought you.

It’s your favorite. It’s always your favorite.

You told him what your favorite drink was, the very first time you attended one of these parties. He’s never forgotten since, and it makes you love and hate him all the more.

“I don’t think I will.” You mumble, both trying and desperately failing not to brush his fingers. His skin is warm. He’s warm. He’s like a walking furnace, and you’d like to just bury your face in his pecs and breathe him in and-

“Kid, you already have.”

Steve looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room. His eyes are sparkling, and in the background you think Natasha Romanoff is circling like a shark, trying to get his attention, but if he notices he pretends he doesn’t. He just looks at you and calls you kid, and the word plummets like a cold stone into your gut.

Kid. That’s all you are to him. Kid.

“But if I got in trouble, you’d save me.” You take a long sip of your drink, and you like to torture yourself.

With his presence. His closeness.

How fast he nods. How certainly he answers.

“’Course I would. Already saving you by pretending I don’t see you getting all those Senators drunk.”

You laugh softly, but the sound hurts. When you look over your shoulder, Stacy’s abandoned you for the food table. You catch her eye, and she shoots you an excited thumbs up. She probably thinks this is going great.

“Are you feeling alright?” Steve says suddenly, and he sounds like he really, really cares. “You been looking kind of sick- Not that you look bad- You look good, uh- Really good, but-“

“I’m fine.” You turn back to Steve, and you wonder if he can see it.

The pain, leaking down like a toxin from your eyes. Everything kind of blurry. You’d throw up, if you didn’t think he’d take care of you after.

“Everything’s fine.”

Steve’s lips twitch. You’re not sure he believes you.

But it doesn’t really matter anyway. You’re not his to get an answer out of. He decided that.

And you’re just doing exactly what Steve wants, all the time.

“You do look nice.” He mumbles, taking a sip of his own drink, as if it could even do anything to him.

You smile, and there it is again. The shameful, unrelenting heat in your stomach. “Thanks.”

I dressed up for you.

“I think he’s in looove with you.” Stacy says, spinning around in her chair. You flip her off, not looking up from your computer.

“Is the printer out of paper still?”

“I don’t know, you print everything for me.” She pokes your chair with her foot. “Pay attention to me, I said Steve’s in love with you-“

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not-“

“Yes, he is-“

“Is this the same thing you were fighting about last time?” Steve’s voice comes from over your shoulder, and you freeze. “Or is that just… How you two talk.”

Stacy looks awfully fucking pleased with herself for a dead woman. “It’s the same fight as last time.”

“Oh.” He pauses. You can hear his concern, and it makes you want to vomit. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhm.” Stacy beams. “Hi, Steve.”

You glance up, and Steve looks properly bemused and adorable about her whole demeanor. It makes you want to hold his face and kiss the tiny, pouting frown off his lips. You smack yourself internally. Get it together.

“Hi, Stacy.”

She almost glows. “You remember my name?”

“Yeah.” He glances down at you. “I try to remember most people’s names.”

Stacy swoons. “Of course you do.”

Steve blinks, and you clear your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh-“ He rubs the back of his neck, giving you a small smile. “Lunch, remember? We planned it last week.”

Oh. You did do that. “I told you to wait outside, my boss is going to try to interview you-“

“Oh, she already did.” He laughs. “But I’m here for you, not a front page.”

You flush, and Stacy giggles like she’s watching TV.

“So…” Steve shrugs. “Lunch?”

Right. Lunch.

“How’d you even get in the building.” You grumble, grabbing your jacket as you stand. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I took a photo with the guards.”

“Steve, I told you to stop doing that-“

“It made them really happy, okay? And I went through all the metal detectors, same as everyone else-“

“I know, but you hate taking the photos, you can tell them no.”

Steve frowns. “It’s not that big an inconvenience for me-“

“But you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it-“

“Steven Rogers.”

You glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. Steve sighs, slumping like a scolded child.

“I don’t love them.” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Next time, tell them no.”

“But then I can’t come upstairs.”

You shrug, starting at the door, your shoulder bumping against his. “You can text me. Like you’re supposed to-“

“Or I can just do the photos-“

“No-“

“Bye, guys.” Stacy calls from behind you, and you look her with wide eyes. You’d forgotten she was there.

“Um… Bye.” You wave awkwardly, and she grins.

He’s here for you. She mouths, and you roll your eyes.

No hope. It just makes everything else harder.

If Steve wanted you, he’d say something. And you’re a big girl. You can handle just being his friend, because he won’t leave you alone long enough for you to properly avoid him. You can handle it.

His hand finds your lower back, when he opens the door for you. You almost trip over your feet from the dizzying touch.

You can’t handle this at all.

The most annoying part about having undying feelings for Steve Rogers is that it’s Steve Rogers. Captain America. Golden Boy Number One. Mr. Perfect Specimen.

You’re in love with the little blond boy with abs and a dopey smile and sweet blue eyes. You’re obsessed with Mr. Muscles. You lose sleep over the guy who looks like he could crush you in a headlock then kiss you to sleep after.

Incredibly original. Groundbreaking, even. The love of your life is the masculine celebrity who’s respectful and kind. Never before heard of stuff. You’re really shattering glass ceilings with that one.

You want to shoot yourself in the face.

It’s impossible to avoid even thinking about him, when he’s everywhere. You go out to the corner store, and he’s on the little TV mounted in the corner. Avengers brand yogurts line the grocery store, and you glare at Strawberries and Cream and Justice until your head hurts. He told you about that. He was pretty proud of how all the proceeds were going to charities.

“It’s a stupid name, though.” You’d said, and he’d shrugged.

“Tony says the name doesn’t matter, as long as it’s got our faces on it. Apparently that’s what people are buying for.”

He’d frowned at that, and you’d given him an affectionate smile. He hates the glory of all of this. You know he does, and you’d told him gently you’re sure people will also buy for charity.

You’d been lying through your teeth, though. When you grab the yogurt and shamefully shove it into your basket, it’s not for cancer research or orphans or to save the bees. It’s because Steve’s face is smiling at you from the plastic, and you’re no better than the fangirls who get all doe-eyed over his every breath.

Not that you’re much better about that, either.

“I could give you an interview.” Steve offers on day, when you’d been complaining to him about slow news. “It can be about whatever you want-“

“I don’t want your pity journalism, Steven.”

He frowns. “It’s not pity. I’m trying to help you.”

You shrug, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “Well, I can’t accept your help.”

“Why not-“

“It’s unethical.”

“I… don’t think that’s true-“

“Well, I didn’t earn it.”

“You don’t have to earn it.” He says, all earnest and sweet and kind, and you want to die. “You work hard, I know you work hard, and if this can help you- Here, we can do it right now-“

“I don’t have questions ready.” You cut in quickly. Flatly.

Steve just shrugs. “Make some up. I know you can.”

You wish he’d stop believing in you. It makes your heart flutter.

“I have nothing I want to ask you.” You mumble hopelessly, and he frowns.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you always have something to ask me. To ask anyone.”

You flush, turning to the side to avoid his gaze. “Maybe I just know everything about you,” you mutter, and he snorts.

“No. You don’t.”

That gets your attention. You snap your head in his direction, and he smiles at you. Like he already knows he won.

“There she is-“

“Shut up.” You lean across the table, and his smile widens. “What don’t I know about you.”

“A lot.”

“Like what-“

“You have to ask me to find out.”

You narrow your eyes. He keeps fucking smiling.

“You suck.” You grumble.

He shrugs. “I know you think that.”

You’re both leaning across the table. If you reached up, just an inch, you’d be able to trace the line of his nose. He’s so handsome. It’s unfair, and you can feel a smile tugging at your lips in response to his.

“I’m going to punch you in the face-“

“I’d like to see you try, kid.”

Kid.

You lean back, ice water feeling like it was poured through your veins. Steve notices the shift. He frowns, but you don’t give him the chance to question it. You just push on.

“I need a napkin.” You mutter., leaning back into your seat. “To write questions.”

“Yeah. Right.” He rubs the back of his neck. Opens his mouth, then closes it again, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll go get that for you.”

Of course he will.

And when he’s talking to the waitress—paper and a pen in his hand—she twirls her hair and giggles. Same as you would, if you got to know him where he didn’t know you. Where he might just find you pretty, and give you a chance, because you were friends first and you think that’s where you all went wrong.

This all might’ve been easier, if he really was just a celebrity crush. If you loved him because he was Captain America and not Steve. Your Steve. Who brings you back two pens in case you don’t like the first, and shares his food with you while you gloss through the interview—feeling little detached from your own body, like he’s a million miles away—and touches your lower back again when you finally leave lunch.

You might’ve gotten to touch him more, if he didn’t mean something to you.

But you wouldn’t trade knowing him for the world.

And that just makes it all hurt even more.

Steve’s been trying to get you out with his team for years. You’ve said no, over and over and over. You don’t need to feel even more mortal than you already are. Don’t need the reminder that he probably rejected you because you’re not even a quarter of what he and his friends are.

Not that you think Steve would think you’re any less because you’re not enhanced. You know he wouldn’t.

Consciously. 

But that doesn’t change the reality of it. He wouldn’t want you, when he’s surrounded by other Gods, like he himself, far more worthy of his attention. You can be mean and sharp, but you don’t have the cool, collected, deadly beauty of Black Window. And you’ve heard the rumors about them.

You’ve heard all the rumors. About Steve with everyone, because people like to talk. There isn’t a pair of people on the Avengers that the public hasn’t theorized about secretly dating.

And you know none of it’s true. Steve’s told you himself.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, when you think about him with someone else more worthy. Someone he wants.

Which is why you didn’t want to do this. And Steve had always respected that—because he’s perfect, and he respects everything—so you’d thought you’d never have to. He asks. You say no. He doesn’t push it, or demand to know why. He waits months before asking again, and you know he only does that because he thinks you’re just too busy to go out the other times. That you’re saying no because you simply don’t have the energy, and not because the idea makes you feel itchy. And you don’t want to tell him. You like that he asks you. It makes you feel important.

But you still kept saying no.

Until Stacy overheard him ask you, and said yes for you. And Steve beamed, and you couldn’t stand to burst the delicate little bubble of his joy, and now you’re here.

Huddled in the corner of a bar with the fucking Avengers all around you. Hawkeye and Thor are throwing darts in the corner. Hulk, Black Widow, and Falcon are playing pool. The Vision is eating onion rings, and everything feels like a very, very bizarre dream.

Steve hasn’t left your side since you got here. It’s been the only anchor you have. You’d been able to hide in his shadow and duck under his arm, avoiding pressing questions and conversations you don’t really want to have. It’s not too weird for him to bring a civilian friend, at least. None of them have commented on it, besides throwing you passing looks. Steve mentioned that they all do it, from time to time.

But you’re the only one here right now. And if you could, you’d sew your hand into Steve’s so he couldn’t leave you alone.

And that’s always a little true. You want that all the time.

More than usual right now. But all the time.

“I’m going to get drinks.” He mutters, and you grab his bicep like a scared child.

“Wait- I’ll come with you-“

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” He grins down at you, patting your head like you’re a dog or something. “You don’t have to stand up.”

You want to shout at him that this isn’t about him being a gentleman, it’s about him not leaving your sight. But you’re weak. And pathetic. So you just nod, and Steve smiles at you before walking away.

You try to hide in the shadows, avoiding any attention. It doesn’t work.

“You’re the journalist.” A cool, lazy voice cuts through the air, and you look up to find Tony Stark standing over your table.

“I’m a journalist-“

“No. You’re Roger’s journalist.” Stark drawls, sliding into the booth. You stiffen, but don’t dare to move away.

That’ll make it seem even more obvious, when Steve comes back and you don’t inch away from him.

“I understand what he’s been going on about.” Stark continues, looking you up and down slowly. “Didn’t know they made them like you anymore.”

Your eyes narrow. “Like me?”

“Mhm.” Stark smirks, and you raise your chin.

“What am I like, Mr. Stark?”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Little spitfire, aren’t you-“

“Only to people who deserve it.”

That makes him laugh louder. Everything feels more and more like a fever dream by the second.

You look out to the bar, trying to find Steve. Internally begging him to come back. He’s by the bar, your drink already in his hand. It’s the same one you always get. He’s holding it close to his chest, like it’s something priceless.

There’s a woman standing next to him. Just another random girl, in a tiny dress with some pretty good makeup, giggling and batting her lashes at him.

And Steve’s entertaining her. smiling at her.

The same way he smiles at you.

You don’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be here. You don’t want to see how it’s not even the Avengers that he’d want more than you, it’s everyone else. She’s getting the same attention you try to drown yourself in, but you’re not the one who might go home with him. His grin is a little tighter with her, because he’s probably restrained and trying to play his cards right. She looks like she’s talking sweet, and he’d probably want that more than you, poking and mocking him all the time. He’s a God. He’ll say he’s not but he is, and what kind of god would want to be worshipped by someone who shows love with insults and eye rolls.

There’s a tight feeling, around your throat like rope. Your eyes are burning, and the world is blurring, and you don’t want to see this. You can’t see this.

You tried to be his friend. You really tried.

But you can’t.

“What’s wrong with you?” Stark asks, and you look over to find him watching with a strange expression.

“Nothing.” You clear your throat, fumbling for your bag. “I just- Remembered something. That I have to go do.”

You glance over to Steve again. He’s laughing at something she’s saying without shaking his head and tipping his head back, without looking away from her. Like he does with you.

“Right now.” You mumble. “I have to go do it right now.”

Stark hums, tapping his fingers on the table. “Right now, huh.”

“Yep.” You stand up, and he gives you an almost amused look.

“What is it? If it’s so urgent.”

“Stuff.” You snip.

Stark chuckles, shaking his head. “Jesus, he’s batting in a whole other sport with you.”

“What the fuck does that mean-“

“Nothing.” Stark smirks again. Like he knows something. “Go on. I’ll tell Cap you had stuff.”

You scan over his relaxed features, and he just keeps grinning, lazy and unworried. You could get an answer out of him, if you tried.

But you look up, back to Steve. And he’s grabbing his own drink from the bar. Still chatting with the girl. If he brings her back to the table, you’re going to vomit.

You have to go now.

“Thanks.” You mutter, giving Stark a tight grin. “Have a good night.”

And Stark laughs, as you turn away.

“Oh. I’m sure I will.”

You avoid Steve for a week.

Properly avoid him.

He calls ten times, just the night you leave the bar. He texts almost every hour for the days after that, and you mute him. If you look at the messages, you’re going to respond to them. If you respond to them, he’ll convincing you to talk to him. If you talk to him, or see him, or even stand near him, you’re never going to get over him.

You’re going cold turkey on him, like he’s a drug.

To you, he is. And you need to get clean. You need to move on.

Steve doesn’t come into the building to steal you for lunch, but he calls you every day. Your fingers fidget, still trying to pick up the phone.

You don’t know how you manage not to, but you do. When you ask the guards downstairs, they say he’s walked through the door and walked back out five times. You force yourself not to think about it, and somehow manage to do that too. And you’re going to be able to do this. You’re finally going to move on.

Moving on means moving. Not staying in the same little pit, waiting for his sun to change its path and shine on you. You have to climb out, and find a new place to be. Someone new to want.

You’ve done this part before. The whole dance of downloading the apps and going on the dates and telling yourself you want them, even though they aren’t Steve. But this time is going to be different. If you tell yourself that enough, it will feel more and more true.

There’s a guy you’ve been chatting with all week, and he seems sweet. He compliments you, and he was polite when you met for coffee, and he’s far from bad to look at. And it’s not like you’re going to marry him. You just need someone to be close to you that isn’t Steve.

And maybe this guy—you can’t really remember his name, but you’ll learn it—is blond haired and blue eyes and broadly built. Maybe you swiped through photo after photo, looking for a phantom of him, but that’s nobody business expect yours, and your pillow’s. It knows better than anyone that there’s only one way you can fake it.

Which is exactly what this game is. Faking it until you make it. Until you’re over Steve, and there’s never any temptation to look back.

You dress up, telling your brain you’re going on a date with Steve himself so you put in all the effort. Another thing that’s nobody’s business. You’re doing what you need to, and it’s going to get you over him. You’ve got lashes and glossy lips and heels that are going to hurt in the morning, and this guy doesn’t seem strong enough to carry you like Steve would, but that’s where you need to shut your brain up. There’s not going to be anyone who’s like Steve. This guy looks like him enough to get you out the door, but it’s not him, and that’s okay. That’s good. It’s going to help you move on. You’ve got your jacket, and your purse, and you’re going to do this and move on-

You yank the door open, and freeze.

Steve stares at you, hands his pockets, mouth hanging open.

This is usually the part where one of you says hi, but you can’t remember how to speak. He’s here. Why is he here. He’s been giving you space, because he’s amazing and polite, and it had been so much easier to pretend it was just because he didn’t care when he wasn’t right in front of you. Looking like you’d just punched him in the face, all pale with sagging shoulders and sad, dull eyes. As if he’s lost sleep.

He scans over you. Over your revealing outfit and makeover. His throat bobs, and you could swear he slouches further. When he meets your gaze, he doesn’t smile. It makes you want to cry.

“Steve-“

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He mutters, the words thick and low. “And- I’m not here to fight about it. I didn’t think you were going to open the door, I didn’t- I wasn’t going to bother you. Just- Never mind.”

 You blink. “I- What are you-“

“You got a date?” He nods to your outfit, and something in his pockets shift. He’s fisting his hands.

“Um-“ You glance to his pockets again, then back to his weighted gaze. “Yeah. I do.”

“With whom.”

Shit. You still can’t remember. “Someone I met on an app. Steve, what are you-“

“On an app.” He echoes, the words sounding hollow. He chuckles under his breath. “You know, Stark made me try those once.”

You swallow. You don’t want to hear about his dating life. “How did that go.”

“Bad. And I tried, I just…” He trails off, shaking his head, and you think you can feel his stare burrowing into your heart, shaping it even further in his name. 

This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. Seeing him makes you love him more, think about him more, need him more. He’s got a gravity over you, and he doesn’t know it, and why is he here.

“Is he nice.”

Steve’s voice is low. Pained. You don’t understand the question.

“Who?”

“Your date.” He grunts. “Is he nice to you.”

“Oh.” You forgot about that part. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Neither of you speak for a second. Steve stares at you so hard our head spins, and you can’t look him in the eyes.

“What did I do?”

His voice breaks suddenly, and you feel the crack in your ribs. It yanks your gaze up, and you’ve never seen him so sad. Frustrated and annoyed, sure. Tense, all the time. But never just… Sad. Defeated. Like even he isn’t sure what to do. It feels wrong. Like the world is bleeding together and caving over itself.

“You didn’t do anything-“

“I must have.” He scans over your features, his own so openly aching. “You’ve never been mad at me before, and- Now you’re-“

He waves to your outfit, and you frown.

“It’s just a date-“

“Just a date.” He mutters under his breath, and your mouth falls open.

“I’m allowed to date, Steven-“

“I know you are!” His voice raises for a second, but he quickly pushes it back down. “I- I know, but that’s not- Why are you avoiding me?”

He’s pleading. It’s almost bleeding out of his voice, staining all over you, and you wrap an arm around your stomach like you can stop yourself from bleeding back. This isn’t fair. Steve’s not stupid. He can’t have just forgotten your mistake of expressing your feelings, he’s not nearly oblivious to be unable to put two and two together, and he certainly can’t be dense enough to not tie together that you’re avoiding him, and going on a date. You don’t go on dates. You’re usually too busy trying to steal some love from his shadow.

Yet here he is. Looking at you like he really doesn’t understand. Being so nice about it, when it’s clearly been bothering him. No demanding to understand. No shouting about how hurt he was. Just pleading.

Because he’s golden and perfect. All respectful, like you’re just another lady to him.

Like you’re not worth enough for him to fight a little dirtier for.

A lump is pressing up your throat. It’s a battle to hold his gaze.

“Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you.” You mutter, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.” Steve rubs his face, working his jaw. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what I did-“

“Steve-“

“And I’ll fix it, whatever I did, I’ll fix it-“

“You can’t fix it!” You shout.

He stumbles back like you slapped him, and tears burn at your eyes.

“You- You can’t fix it, Steve.” You whisper, staring down at his shoes. “Just- Stop.”

“Stop what?” He rasps. “I- I know I messed something up, but-“

“Stop being so nice to me.”

He’s silent for a moment. You don’t even know how to justify that one. It sounds pathetic to your ears.

“I... I’d rather not.” He mutters, and you sigh.

“Then please leave me alone.” The words hurt, but you push them out like an apple lodged in your throat. “I- I tried, okay? I really tried, but I can’t.”

“Can’t-“

“Can’t be your friend.” You whisper. The tears burn on your cheeks. “I can’t be your friend, Steve, it’s too hard. I- I-“

You sniff, and Steve rasps your name. You have to shake your head. He can’t talk right now. It’s already too hard.

“I love you.” You say, barely a breath. It doesn’t matter. He’ll hear anyway. “I love you too much, and- It’s not your fault that you don’t- That it’s not the same. But please.” You shift on your feet, hugging yourself tight. “I- I need space.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything he could say to make it better, not anymore. But something in you still fractures, when he just steps to the side. Giving you a path out.

Letting you go.

You think it’s hope. The hope that one day he might feel the same, the dream that you’d tried so hard not to feed, but tended to bloom on its own. That one day he’d look at you and realize he made a mistake.

But he steps to the side. And that’s all it’s ever going to be.

A dream.

You bow your head and shuffle past him, face burning and skin crawling with shame. You’re going to go on this date and pretend like everything is fine, if you can even make it out of the hallway without breaking down. Your knees are wobbly and tears are coming faster than you can wipe away, but you just need to get out. Out of this hallway with its suffocating air.

Away from Steve, and your heart, broken at his feet.

You’ll get over it. You’ll get over it. It’s hard to breathe right now but you’ll get over it-

“God- Screw it.”

A strong hand wraps around your wrist. It takes you by such surprise you don’t even think to fight.

Steve spins your around, grabbing your jaw and picking you up in a single movement. You gasp as his lips slam over yours, sudden and demanding. He kisses you like he doesn’t know he’s already got a claim on you. Like he’s trying to brand your lips with a bruising, hungry desire. All you can do is breathlessly kiss him back, scraping at his shoulders and trying to keep up with what’s happening. Steve tastes a little like honey and salt, and you’re sure he ate something earlier but you don’t really care what. His hair is just as soft as you thought, and you’re being crushed under the force of him but it’s intoxicating and exhilarating and you feel like you’re being remade-

It’s over. Just as fast as it started. Steve stumbles back, fumbling with his hands like they’re still trying to reach you against his will. He braces them on his hips, staring at you with wide eyes.

You gape at him, trying to catch your breath. You reach up to brush your own lips, trying to make sure the tingly feeling there is real. Maybe press it deeper in, until you can feel it forever.

Steve clears his throat. You blink at him through the slowly drying tears, not really sure what’s happening.

Neither of you dare to speak. Or move. You’re breathing shallowly, like anything too big is going to tip the whole world over, and it will all slip through your fingers.

He takes an uncertain step forward, and you should take one back.

But you’ve never been all that good at moving away from him before. You have no interest in learning that skill now.

This time, you grab him at the same time he grabs you. You stumble into each other, uncoordinated and desperate, unbothered by bumping noses and smushed limbs. You just need to be close to him. To feel him as much as possible, as fast as possible.

He’s never been a drug. You’d been getting a secondary high, but this-

This is a hit.

And you need to have more.

You grab at his collar, pressing up to meet his every kiss, and you’re quickly making out with teeth and tongue in the middle of the hallway. Steve’s arm wraps around your ass, lifting you effortlessly off your feet, and you moan into his mouth.

He trips as he walks back into the apartment, and you end up pressed against the wall at least three more times before you make it through the door. Every time Steve slams you back, devoting all his attention to kissing you until you’re drooling and sloppy and just trying to push further into his open mouth. At one point he slots his knee between your thighs, and you start to shamelessly grind down as he sucks your lower lip between his teeth.

You giggle, dazed and sore with overflowing need for him. He kicks the door closed behind you, and you think you’re going to end up riding his thigh against the wall, but he starts down the hall. To your bedroom.

He makes it about five steps before you rake your nail through his hair and start kissing over his jaw. Steve moans into your ear, lagging a little sideways, and you shriek as you both topple down onto the couch.

It takes you a second to catch your breath, and that’s all Steve needs to get the upper hand. He grabs your jaw, tipping your head back as he starts to suck and nip at your neck. You squeak, grabbing his head, and he moans against your skin. His knee pushes back between your thighs, and this angle is even better than before. You can’t help the roll of your hips, down onto the muscle of his thick leg.

“St- Steve-“ You voice is high, and he hums, licking up your throat before making out with a soft spot under your jaw. “Jesus fucking- God-“

“I know.” He mutters, dragging his hand down your thigh and grabbing under your knee. He squeezes gently, hiking it up to your chest, pushing his knee down even harder than before.

“Fuck- You-“ You gasp, your pussy clenching around nothing as your clit gets rubbed through his jeans, through your panties.

At this angle, you’re almost exposed to him. Your dress pooling around your tummy, the wet spot on your underwear growing bigger and bigger. You grasp at the skirt, trying to tug it down a little. It’s one thing to be riding his knee, another for him to see you.

Steve grabs your wrist, pushing the fabric further down than it had been before. Your eyes almost cross when he starts to rub his knee back and forth, the pressure overwhelming and perfect. You didn’t think you could cum like this, but there’s a familiar pressure building up in your stomach, and you have to bite your tongue to stop a wanton moan from escaping your lips.

He sits up to look at you, and you’re sure it’s a shameful, lewd sight. Your makeup smudged, your hair ruined, a picture of depravity and sin as you chase pleasure on his leg. This isn’t the kind of thing you thought he’d be into. He’s too perfect, too good, and maybe you’ve wanted to be put in a headlock and manhandled and used, but Steve’s all about honor. You’d been so sure that, even if you got to have him, it would be lovely, vanilla sex that was filled with such emotion it would make up for the simpleness.

But that’s not what you see in Steve’s eyes. They’re hooded and black with lust. His jaw is clenched as he watches you, and he pushes your leg further up with a gentle squeeze.

“Oh-“ You gasp, trying to reach up to grab him.

Steve grabs your second wrist without letting go of the first. Holds him in one hand, and leans over you as he pins them both over your head. Your mouth falls open, breathing fast and needy. 

His own chest is heaving. He looks down to his knee against your core, and a deep sound rumbles from his chest. You’re wound so tight you’re certain you could snap, sudden and fast like a rubber band. You strain against Steve’s hold, and his attention snaps back up.

“You’re good, doll.” He coos. “Relax for me.”

You blink at him, shaking your head. You can’t stop grinding against him, but you need him close. Need to be under the pressure of his body, to feel like there’s nothing else in the world.

Steve picks up the speed of his knee, almost drilling it down into your cunt without touching you at all. You gape, head lolling to the side, and he grunts.

“Look at me.”

His voice is deep. Not a suggestion. An order.

You blink up at him, almost drooling, and he leans down until his lips are ghosting over yours.  

“I don’t want space.” He mutters. “I want you.”

You swallow, still rubbing your pussy up into his knee. “You- You can’t just-“

“Shh.” He pushes further down, until it feels like he’s almost inside of you. You snap your mouth shut. “Is that all I did?”

“Wha- Oh-“

He drags his knee in slow circles, and you make an incoherent, starved sound. Steve doesn’t even break a sweat.

“You and me.” He mutters, studying your every expression. “That’s it. That’s what was gonna make me lose you.”

“You- You didn’t lose me-“

“Almost did.” He squeezes your knee. “You walked.”

You glare up at him. “You let me-“

“No, I didn’t.” 

Steve’s lips slam back over yours, and you can’t really argue with that. Your eyes flutter as you give into the kiss, your body sparking with a million, delighted nerves. Steve groans against your lips, fucking his knee against your core, and he’s hitting your clit just right, the fabric soaked and filled with rough friction.

Your back arches off the couch as you cum, and Steve lets go of your wrists. You grab his face, trying to pull his lips closer, and he wraps around your back, holding you up. Your toes curl, body shaking as the pressure becomes sensitive, your pussy gushing and clenching around nothing.

Steve rubs your spine, kissing along your shoulder, up your neck, over your cheeks. You hum softly, floating down and tucked into his arms. He leans back against the couch, taking you with him. You slump over his chest, burying your face in his neck as his hand slips under your dress. Thick, calloused finger pads gently graze your hips and waist, and you squirm. 

“I- I didn’t want to ruin something.” He murmurs in your ear, and you pause.

“Ruin…”

“Us.” Steve’s face presses into the curve of your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “You were my friend, we work in a lotta the same places, and I just- I didn’t want to risk that.”

You swallow, leaning back and waiting until he meets your glossy, sad gaze. You take his face between your hands, and he covers them with his own.

“I was willing to risk it.” You whisper, and he sighs.

“I know. But-“ He looks away, words choked and low. “I thought it was a crush. That you’d get over.”

You laugh weakly. “Well, it wasn’t.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Mine wasn’t either.”

You lips part with a sharp breath, and Steve looks back to you with nervous, hopeful eyes.

“I love you.” He squeezes both your hands, guiding them to his lips. “It is the same. So- Tell me that fixes it. Please.”

It does.

Just as fast as they’d shattered, your dreams weave themselves back together. They’re clearer than before. More colorful. It’s no longer like looking through a mist, or watching a reflection in the water. When you touch Steve, he doesn’t ripple away. And that’s more than enough.

You lean down and kiss him. It’s slower than the other kisses. Steve grabs your hips, but lets you press his head down. You wrap your arms around his neck, tracing his lips with your tongue, and he hums in content. Drags you further forward in his lap.

Something thick and hard presses right against you, and you almost go limp. Like your body is already trying to get ready to take it. To take Steve’s cock that can’t be as large as it feels, straining against his jeans and twitching when you drag yourself slowly back and forth.

“Hey.” Steve grunts, grabbing your hips firmly. You hope he’s holding tight enough to leave a bruise. “Easy.”

You snort, leaning back to give him a pointed look. “Easy?”

“Yeah, that’s what I-“

“I just came on your knee.”

His ears turn a little pink, and he coughs. “I, uh- Fair.”

“Mhm.” You hum, smiling smugly, and you take all the strength in your jelly legs and grind right now onto his clothed cock.

Steve hisses, his fingers digging into your soft skin. “Jesus- Baby-“

You brace your arms on either side of his head, dragging back and forth as slow as you can. Steve’s eyes flutter, his tongue darting over his lips as he watches you move on him. His muscles flex with the effort not to grab you.

You’d very much like to see him give up.

“Does that feel good?” You whisper, making your voice sweet and innocent.

Steve grunts. You’re going to have handprints on your body in the morning. The thought just makes you move faster.

“I don’t want to go slow, Stevie.” You purr, and his chest heaves under you. “I want you to fuck me. Pleeease.”

You whine dramatically, thrusting forward, and Steve’s face drops against your chest.

“Jesus, woman.” He lips graze over your breast, and you moan. “Come on, ‘s not playing fair-“

“Don’t wanna play fair.” You hum, slowly reaching between your bodies. “Wasn’t fair how you turned me down.”

“’M sorry about that-“

“You should be.” You kiss under his ear. “Hurt my feelings.”

“Thought-“ He grunts as you palm his balls through his jeans. “Thought I was helping-“

“You weren’t.”

“I got that now-“

“But you know what would make it better?” You lean back up, holding Steve’s gaze with a lazy smile.

He nods quickly, and you giggle, wiggling down onto his bulge.

“Fucking me.”

Steve looks down, and a rumble echoes through his chest when he sees it.

You’d peeled off your ruined underwear without him noticing. Leaving your bare, sweet and soaked pussy pressed against him. You moan, watching him as you grind down, and he’s so close to snapping. You can see it in the tension of his jaw, feel how his fingers keep twitching on your hips. You smile at him, licking your lips, and that dark look flashes over his features. The same one from earlier, that had him overtaking you like a storm.

Steve’s a good boy. A sweet boy.

He also doesn’t like things that he can’t account for. Used to pick fights in alleys as a kid, always wanted to be the person everyone looked to for help.

You’re sure that, between the two of you, you can let him have a little fun without compromising his moral compass.

He has to, if you’re begging him for it. Not very chivalrous, to ignore a lady in need.

“Pleaseee.” You whine again, ghosting your lips over his. “Fuck me, Stevie, fuck me until I can’t walk-“

He mutters your name under his breath, and you just pout at him.

“Make me yours, make me cry, fuck-“ You throw your head back, the teasing him going straight to your own core. “God, fucking- Please, Steve-“

That does it. The explicit, wet cry of his name seems to snap something in Steve’s resolve, and he’s on you in a blur of hands and lips. Grabbing a fistful of your ass before hauling you up his chest, kissing you breathless as he stands. He keeps carrying like you weigh nothing, and you want to be trapped in his arms forever.

“Steve- Shit-“ Your jaw drops he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Fuck, slow down-“

“You said you didn’t want to slow down.” He reminds you in a deceptively soothing voice, big hands rubbing on the back of your thighs. “Said you didn’t wanna play fair.”

“I- Um- Ooooh-“

You drop your head against Steve’s shoulder, biting at his shirt as thick, strong fingers tease the lips of your pussy.

“Wet fuckin’ pussy.” He muses, spreading you open so the cold air hits your cunt. “Knew you got soaked for me, princess. Didn’t know it was this bad.”

“You- You-“ He needs to stop humiliating you and touching you at the same time. It makes you feel like you’re burning alive in the best way possible. “You knew?” You squeak, and Steve chuckles.

“Always knew. Told you, thought it was a crush.”

You try to twist and glare at him. “And you didn’t tell me-“

“Like you would’ve wanted me to tell you I could smell how badly you wanted my cock.” Steve smacks your ass with a scoff, and you flop right back over his shoulder.

“Fuck-“ You whimper. He’s right. You can barely even stand that right now. “Steve, please- Please-“

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. Mercy, maybe. More mocking attention. Anything he can fucking give you, because you feel like you’re about to explode.

Steve spanks you again, this time on the other cheek, and you moan.

“’Course you like that.” He mutters. “Dirty girl, testing me every fucking day.”

He drags his thumb through the mess between your legs, and your pussy clenches, trying to drag him in. He laughs, pushing down for half a second before dragging down to your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circle. You gasp, pushing uselessly at his back, already overstimulated and still needing more.

“Felt that.” Steve flicks your clit, and your whole body shakes. “Greedy, princess. You’ve been waitin’ this long, you can hold it a little longer.”

“Ca- Can’t-“ You gasp, pressing your cheek against the broad muscle of his back. “Can’t, Steve- Can’t wait-“

“Yeah, you can.” He grunts. “Christ, you’re dripping all over my hand. Going to take me no problem, aren’t you, baby.”

He’s playing with your clit like it’s just a little button for his whims, and you have to bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from falling apart all over his hand.

“Steve- I- I’m going to- Oh my god-“

Steve slaps right over your pussy, the wet sound echoing in your ears as he shoves those two fingers right into your pussy. He finds your G-spot in a second, crooking his fingers and dragging them over your sensitive walls. You cum with a cry of his name, sudden and harsh. White dancing at your vision, your body seizing up as Steve dumps you down onto the soft mattress.

He presses his wrist further, folding your body up. You grab his neck for an anchor, and he kisses your wrist as he slides a third finger into your dripping mess of a pussy.

“Getting you ready.” He mutters, wiping some hair from your face. “It’s okay, babydoll, you’re doin’ real good.”

You whimper, the orgasm still shaking through you. You’re struggling to breathe when Steve finally pulls his hand away, and the loss makes you whimper.

Steve laughs softly, leaning down to kiss you all sweet and loving, like you haven’t been turned to a puddle under his hands.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, squeezing your breast gently, and you take a loud, stuttering gasp. Steve kisses your nose, smiling like he’s being offered ice cream, and you watch him in a starry-eyed daze.

You hear the click of his belt, and as much as you’d like to reach down and feel him, you can barely manage to hold onto his shoulders right now. Steve pulls slowly up with one last chaste kiss on your lips, and your breath hitches in your throat.

He’s massive. That’s the kind of dick you’ve only seen in cartoons, because even the porn industry can’t replicate it. You’re not sure how he gets around so easily in his tight suit, with that fucking horse cock acting like a third leg. Thick and veined, already beading with pre-cum as he strokes it slowly in his hand, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I was… Endowed.” He mumbles, ears red. “Before the serum. Then…”

He nods to his cock, and you laugh breathlessly.

“Jesus, Steve-“

“It won’t hurt you.” He says quickly. “I know there are those rumors ‘bout be being a virgin, but-“ He sighs, pouting slightly. “God forbid a man tell Tony Stark he doesn’t want to talk about his sex life, suddenly he’s never even touched a boob-“

“Dude.” You smile up at him, and he cuts himself off. “Look me in the eyes and tell me if I still think you’re a virgin after that.”

You tilt your head to the hallway, but Steve just frowns.

“Dude?”

“Um-“

“Don’t call me dude when I’m about to fuck you.” He grumbles, and you’d laugh at him if that didn’t make your heart skip. e

“Sorry, sir.”

You say it half to mock him, half to test something.

Steve’s jaw ticks, and his already rock-hard cock twitches in his hands. You giggle as his eyes narrow, and you’re still laughing as he prowls over you, that dark, hungry look back on his face.

“You think something’s funny?” He grunts, and you shake your head.

“No, sir.”

Steve groans, dropping his face between your breasts.

“Gonna be the death of me.” He mutters under his breath, and you’re still laughing softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

You laugh again, because you’re really not. It’s hilarious, and he’s adorable, and this is going to yield some fantastic results.

Steve assesses you like you’re a mission to be accomplished. And you know him.

He never does anything halfway.

“Alright, princess.” He mutters, tapping the head of his cock on your clit. “Open.”

You squeak, still giggling, and spread your legs slowly.

The last laugh is pushed from your chest as Steve slowly starts to sink himself into your heat. Your mouth falls uselessly open as you bow off the bed, your body almost unable to rationalize how full you are. 

Steve splits you open, his cock slowly driving through you and hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. He grinds slowly down into your pussy, bullying you further open, and you think he’s found a button inside you that just makes you a limp, sensitive fuck-doll, because you whine out his name but it takes everything you have.

“I know.” He grunts, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix. “You’re taking it, baby, there you go.”

“Steveee-“

“Feels good, doesn’t it.” He presses at sweet kiss to your lips as he bottoms out. His fingers lace slowly through yours, and you nod.

You’ve never had so many pleasure points being hit at once. Steve’s still got a hand on your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers as you try to breath around him. He’s patient. You don’t want him to be.

“More.” You push out, and he raises his brows.

“Sweetheart-“

“More.” You roll up into him, moaning loudly as he hits even deeper. “Fuck me, Steve- Mmm-“

He kisses you, passionate and messy, and you almost scream in satisfaction as he starts to move.

He’s unrushed. Completely in control of you, and aware of it. His dick pulls almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in, the torturous pace making you feel like a live wire.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He coos, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Pretty girl, you like being stuffed up with my cock, don’t you.”

“Ye- Yes-“ You tip your head back into the pillows, your free hand grasping at the sheets. “Yes- Oh my god, yes-“

Steve’s started to grind against your g-spot whenever he hits it, letting his thickness press and drag over the sensitive, gooey spot until you’re moaning and writhing around him.

“Feel that, don’t you.” He mutters, pushing in a little harder than last time. “Feel my dick inside you, baby, feels so good, doesn’t-“

“So good.” You babble, but who can blame you. “So good, Steve, you’re so-“

Your words turn into a broken moan as Steve drives back into you, and he’s going harder and harder every time. Still pulling almost fully out slowly, letting your arousal gather and drip down your thighs and ass, but then slamming back into you so hard it makes you think the world is shaking.

A breathy sound escapes your lips, maybe a plea, and Steve moves your tangled hands between your bodies, pressing you down into the mattress as he rises up for a better angle.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet.” He growls, pounding into your cunt like he owns it. “If I’d know you wanted me this bad I woulda had you all over this city.”

You whine, squeezing around him. Steve chuckles.

“Oh, you like that. Like the idea of being my good little cockslut, letting me play with you wherever I want.” 

Big, steady hands press your knees up, letting Steve hit even deeper than before. A strange, tight feeling is building in your gut, but it feels good. All of this feels so good. You’re spent and cockdrunk, but you feel used in the best possible way. The filth Steve is drawling in your ears makes your brain go all quiet. You’re just a happy, humming bundle of pleasure, Steve’s massive body draped over yours, and you’d probably do anything he wanted, if he just fucked you like this after.

“You were made for me.” He groans, lips wandering all over your face as his cock drills into you. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby, swear it, just sing for me, come on-“

You moan, long and loud. Steve grins, kissing under your ear.

“Good girl.” He coos. “There you go, just like that. Come on, doll, I know you’re getting close.”

You are. You’ve been close the whole time, but this feels more and more different by the second. There are wet, sinful sounds filling the room as your skin slaps together, and Steve’s breath is hot in your ear as he starts to lose a little control of himself.

He moans when you start mindlessly humping up to meet him, forcing his cock into the tightest spot into you that makes everything all colorful and hazy. You gasp softly, chasing up from a little more, and Steve wraps and arm around your back.

“Fuck- Fuck- You feel so good,” he groans your name in your ear. “So good, it’s- Christ-“

That strange pressure in your tummy is going to burst. It feels like Steve is driving right against it, daring it come undone.

“Steve.” You breathe out. “Steve- I- I’m gonna-“

He growls, deep in his chest and rolling through you.  Steve grabs you and wrestles you down into the mattress, pushing your legs up to your chest and fucking you fast and brutal.

It’s a sight above you. Steve, panting and moaning as your pussy sucks him in, glistening arousal shining all over his cock when he pulls out and smearing on your tummy. Your tight walls are starting to contract, and he doubles over, groaning your name as his thrust become shallow and unmeasured.

Tears start to stream down your face. Steve looks at you like you’re an angel, fucking you like you’re just a toy, and you can’t even remember how to tell him how good it feels.

“Steve…” You wiggle below him, crying out as he just fucks you hard. “Steve- Ooooooh-“

Your eyes roll back, the tears burning on your cheeks from the impossible to handle pleasure. Steve leans down and kisses them off your cheeks, the softness in such contrast with how he’s turning you into a bundle of nerves and tears.

“My pretty girl.” He mutters, kissing your lips sweetly. “Close. We’re so close. You can make it. Make it for me.”

You nod, almost hypnotized into agreeing. And Steve’s abusing that spot inside of you. Sensitive and overwhelming, making your toes curl and eyes cross.

“Steve- I- I can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” Not a suggestion. Steve’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing it back and forth as he ruts into you. “Come for me, now.”

The command rolls through you, and that pressure bursts. Heat washes over you, making you bow off the bed as a funny, wet feeling gushes out between your thighs. Steve groans, slamming his mouth back over yours, groaning your name as you start to milk his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you wrap your arms tight around his neck. Tight enough to strangle him, if he was a normal man. But Steve just splays his hand possessively over your back and moans against your lips, driving home into your cunt as his release rippling through him.

It’s almost as good as your own orgasm. You’re tucked into a shaking, flexing heat of muscle, his deep voice moaning your name in your ear, his cock still thrusting and twitching inside you. Over, and over, and over-

You can barely breathe in the best way. You’ve never had a man cum so much. It starts just hot and sticky, then it’s drooling out, down your ass and onto the sheets. You can feel it in your throat, almost taste it, and even after Steve pulls out it’s everywhere. Painting your pussy creamy and white, branding your abdomen, your tits, your thighs.

Steve stares down at you with a gaping mouth as you both come down from the high. You laugh, hoarse and breathy.

“Woah.”

“Shit.” Steve mutters, grabbing at the remainder of the clean sheets and wiping them over your body. “I- I didn’t- I usually pull out, you just-“

“Steve-“

“We need to get you in the shower, it’s everywhere-“

“Steve-“

“I’m so sorry-“

“Steven.” You smack his shoulder, and he stops dead.

You’re already bridal style in his arms, naked and covered in his cum, some of it dripping all over the floor. You’re going to need to hire a cleaner. Or invest in really, really big buckets that you’ll keep next to the bed.

“Does that happen every time?”

He swallows, and nods.

“Uh- Not that much.” He mumbles. “But yeah.”

Pride glows in your chest. You get the most of him. “Okay.”

Steve blinks. “Okay?”

You nod, and he shakes his head.

“I ruined your room-“

“I liked it.”

He stares. You smile.

Steve rolls his eyes, and presses a kiss to your brow.

“You’re impossible.” He mutters, and you giggle.

“Yeah, but you love me. And you can’t take it back now, you already said it-“

He grabs your chin, turning it so he can fully capture your lips.

“I do love you.” He mutters against your lips. “And no one could make me take it back if they tried.”

You smile. You have no plans to do that.

Steve is somehow more than you ever dreamed. And there’s no way you’re letting him go now.

"Keep up." Ari grumbled angrily, as he pushed the shopping cart through the store and you quickly scampered to keep up alongside him.

You held your head up, looking around at all the brightly coloured products, the sugary treats that you wouldn't be able to get but so desperately wanted.

A swift slap landed on the back of your head making you wince.

"Keep your fuckin' head down." Ari grunted and you dropped your gaze to the floor immediately, "It's one thing to be a fuckin' brat in private but keep embarrassin' me in public and we'll have a fuckin' problem."

You wrinkled your nose and glared at his hip with a frown as you continued walking by his side.

You hated this, hated this world and hated your existence.

You were sent to a submission institute at 16, when your useless father decided you weren't worth feeding or housing anymore. He hated you, ever since your mother died he looked at you with disgust. So you were sent away, placed in what was effectively a prison for girls like you. Girls who had no one, only to be sold at a later date to be someone's submissive, someones belonging, a mere object.

The country accepted this way of life without batting an eyelid, happy to let you be traipsed around like a thing with no autonomy. Girls like you were looked down on in society, not spoken too, not considered your own person. You were a commodity for those that could afford one of you, supposed to be perfectly submissive and perfectly behaved.

You'd always been 'difficult', always pushed boundaries and earned harsh punishments from your keepers. You'd been there for years. Hell they even tried to warn Ari off of you, telling him you'd been there so long because you were 'feral' and a 'brat'. Ari had only smirked and paid for you anyway. Now here you were, your first public outing after two weeks getting used to Ari's rules and house.

You'd been spanked more times than you could count, been forced to choke on his cock until he came deep in your throat, all in an attempt to teach you a lesson, to teach you to behave. Ari was stupid to think you'd go down without a fight.

"Hey!" Ari yelled suddenly, clasping a strong hand on your bicep and stilling you beside him, "I'm fuckin' talkin' to you, where'd you go?"

"Sorry..." You mumbled and Ari audibly growled causing you to quickly correct yourself, "Sir, sorry sir."

"Don't let it happen again." He scolded before continuing through the store, stopping at the checkout and loading the items on the conveyor belt as you stood quietly and waited.

When the bags were packed at the end of the checkout you reached out to grab one, only for your hand to be slapped away and Ari cast a glare over you.

"I'll get 'em." He grunted, grabbing hold of all the bags in is large arms with ease.

You followed him out to the truck where he quickly loaded the bags into the truck bed.

You heard a crash to your side and carefully looked sideways to see an elderly woman struggling with her cart and bags.

"Wait here." Ari ordered before crossing the two car gap to the older lady and leaning down to help her with her shopping.

You wondered if you should take the chance, run while you could, finally get free of the life that was forced on you by your father. You looked up across the parking lot. It wasn't too far to the curb, you could book it over the verge and hide somewhere nearby, or keep running.

You couldn't take too long to think as Ari was now charming the older lady as he placed the last of her bags into her car, you knew you had to move.

Without thinking anymore you began moving your legs, hitting the asphalt at speed as you ran towards the curb, leaping onto the grass.

"Get fuckin' back here now!" You heard Ari yell from behind you, along with the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground.

You kept going, making it across the verge to the next store's parking lot before two strong arms clamped around your waist and your feet were hauled off the floor.

"Fuckin' brat." Ari scolded.

"Let me go." You grunted as you frantically twisted and turned in his hold, trying to break free from his grip.

"How is it I got lumbered with an ungrateful little brat like you huh?" Ari grunted as he remained unmoved by your actions and turned back towards where his car was sat.

"So sell me back." You spat angrily.

"Ha! And leave you there to rot." He hissed, "You should be fuckin' thankful that I took pity on your ass and got you outta there, gave you a nice home and a warm bed."

"Fuck you." You grunted.

The car came into view and Ari quickly threw the truck door open before practically launching you into the seat.

"You're in for a world of fuckin' pain girl." He grunted as he manhandled you into the seat and harshly put your seatbelt on as you gave up your fight, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting moodily.

When he was done he slammed the door shut and rounded the truck, climbing into the driver's side and slamming his own door shut too.

His knuckles whited as he gripped the wheel harshly and sped away from the store with a scowl ever present on his face.

The scenery quickly changed as you made your way further from civilisation towards the mountains where Ari lived. Trees lined the sides of the highway, spanning out in every direction as far as the eye could see, it was objectively beautiful.

"Ya know, things would be a whole lot better if you just behaved." Ari said sternly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not looking away from the view out of your window.

"You don't gotta be such a brat," He continued, "I can be good to ya, you just gotta give in."

"Never." You snarled under your breath.

"Well okay then, the hard way it is." Ari grunted.

The car began to slow as a small build up of traffic came into view.

"Great," Ari moaned, "Just fuckin' perfect."

The car came to a full stop and at the front of the large row of cars you could just make out a fire truck of some sort, clearing up an accident.

Ari pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing away as you looked back at the trees sprawling alongside you, calling you.

You couldn't, could you?

You didn't hesitate, quickly yanking your seatbelt off and pushing your door open as Ari shouted 'fuck', fumbling with his own belt as you bolted to the side of the road and into the trees.

You wouldn't let him outrun you this time, you wouldn't let him win. You put your head down and frantically pumped your arms in an attempt to gain speed as you weaved your way through the increasingly dense forest.

You could hear Ari's boots and grunts in the distance, closing in.

The floor was unsteady, branches and vines lay hidden amongst the fallen leaves and thick brush and you caught your foot, stumbling and falling to the ground.

You heard the stomps as you tried to push yourself up, but you were quickly thwarted when you felt the weight of Ari's foot on your back, pushing you back to the floor and pinning you there.

"I don't fuckin' think so." He spat angrily, "Ungrateful fuckin' brat."

"Get off me." You squealed as your chest pushed painfully into the floor.

"Not a fuckin' chance." Ari grumbled as you heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle followed by a zipper and your eyes widened, "It's 'bout time you learned who you belong too."

You braced yourself, waiting for him to force you to your knees and make you take his cock in your throat, but he didn't.

Instead, his foot lifted from your back and you heard him drop to his knees behind you before his hands clamped onto your hips and he pulled your backside up, roughly pushing the skirt of your dress up to your back.

You pushed your hands behind you and tried to push him off, tried to pull your front up but the second you did a harsh thwack hit your ass and you fell forwards as leather connected to your fleshy ass cheek.

"No," Ari scolded, "You stay there and take it or you get the belt, your choice.'

"I hate you!" You yelled back as your cheek pressed to the dirt and Ari ripped your underwear off, tossing them into the dirt.

"I don't care." Ari snorted as he adjusted your position, knees slightly agape, ass up in the air.

"You brought this on yourself." He grunted as he nudged his thick tip against your folds and you felt the wetness begin to drip.

Despite everything, Ari had this effect on you. He was unfairly attractive and with the conditioning you'd had in your prison, even sucking his cock had your pussy pulsing. You hated your own body for reacting this way.

"Was gonna wait." Ari continued as he pushed the head through your lips and into your hole making you gasp at the stretch.

"Was gonna let you settle in, teach you the rules."

He pushed onwards slowly, forcing his huge cock inside you inch by inch as your walls struggled to accommodate him.

"Then, when you were settled, grateful, I was gonna take you."

He buried himself to the hilt with a groan as he hit your cervix.

"Was gonna show you how good I can be to ya, how good this could be."

One hand gripped your hip as the other slipped up your spine until he twisted your hair around his fist and gripped it tightly.

"But then you had ta go and run." He grunted harshly, yanking your head up from the ground.

Your pussy contracted around him, wetness pooling around the base of his cock.

"Now we're gonna do this different, gonna have to claim ya, show ya I mean business."

He slipped his cock out of you slowly as you moaned, before he thrust back in harshly and your eyes rolled as his cock hit your cervix, sending a spark straight to your abdomen.

He began a brutal pace, slapping his balls against your clit as he pounded into you at a phenomenal speed, sending your spiralling towards climax.

He grunted and groaned behind you as his hips hit your ass, hand still tugging at your hair.

"Ya hear that?" Ari groaned as the sound of wet slapping filled the air around you.

"You like this, like bein' fucked like the brat you are."

You moaned loudly as your pussy spasmed around his length.

"This what you needed huh?" He continued, "Needed me to show you who's boss, fill you up and fuck you stupid."

Your orgasm was right there, right within your reach.

"Can feel you fuckin' clenchin' my cock, fuck." He moaned, "You gonna cum? Gonna cum on the cock of the man you claim to hate."

"Oh god." You moaned loudly.

"Say it!" Ari yelled as he began fucking into you even harder and faster than before, "Fuckin' say it!"

"Fuck yes!" You yelled as the pleasure consumed you, "I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah you fuckin' are, then you're gonna get back in the truck and be a good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes yes I will please!" You begged as your release snuck up on you.

"Fuckin' cum brat." Ari growled and your coil snapped. You let out a primal scream as your pussy clamped down on his cock and your blissful high took over.

Ari released your hair, letting your head flop to the floor as his took your hips in each hand and began pulling your body back to meet his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm as he chased his own.

"My brat, my cunt, mine." He grunted before you felt his warm seed shoot inside of you and Ari's movements began to slow.

You panted and whimpered as he slipped out of you with a hiss, quickly shoving himself back inside his trousers. He pulled down your dress and pulled you up off the ground by your arm.

He yanked you to face him, gripping your chin in his hand and tugging your face up.

"Do we have an understanding?" He said sternly.

"Yes," You panted, "We do."