“Wake up sweet girl,” a voice whispered, waking you from your slumber. You felt a pair of lips press against your forehead, making your heart flutter. “Five more minutes…” you whined shifting in bed.

The sun casted a warm glow over you, as your eyes slowly opened. There he was, Chris shirtless holding a tray of food before you.

“There she is,” he smiled watching as you sat up. He placed the tray down on the bed as he moved to sit on the side of the bed, the palm of his hand making its way to your stomach.

“This looks amazing,” you say looking down at the food.

“You look amazing,” he replies, his thumb caressing your growing bump.

You look down seeing him kiss your stomach. Your eyes widen seeing your stomach move. “The baby is kicking,” Chris smiles.

You wake up in a cold sweat abruptly sitting up in bed. It all felt too real. You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage. “Oh goodness,” you muttered tears filling your eyes as you crawled back under the covers. These days you were always thinking of Chris, hoping he was safe and wondering more if he was thinking of you too. Choked sobs left your mouth as you hugged your stuffed animal wishing you could go back to that dream like state.

“Have we gotten any letters?,” you found yourself asking your parents at breakfast later that morning. Your father only grunted not looking up from his newspaper. “Mom?,” you questioned, trying once more to get an answer out of them. She looked up , taking in your disfigured figure.

“Maybe we should go shopping for some new clothes this afternoon hm?,” she said, giving you a small smile. This was a recurring event. Your parents changing the subject or not acknowledging you whenever you would bring up Chris. The table shook as you slammed your fist down, fed up with their resistance.

“Did we get any mail?,” you asked, fighting back tears. Your mother glared at you with a deep sigh leaving her mouth. “I don’t understand why you can’t forget about that boy,” she whispers, getting up from the table. It was no use whenever you would mention Chris or the letters that he promised he would send you, you always got the cold shoulder.

“Straighten up kid,” the general spoke, walking down the aisle of lined soldiers. Chris obeyed, keeping his hands at his side as he stared forward towards the blazing sun. The drills were rigorous, and at first it took him some time to get them right. To make sure that he perfected every single one of them. He marched forward with the rest of the candidates staying in sync with his row, there were times when he wanted to give up on all this.

But he knew this was his only chance to get away from his horrible life that wouldn’t second guess to consume him whole. Water droplets cascaded down Chris' aching body as he showered, it was the end of the day and he was exhausted. The warm water felt nice on his tired body, he liked to close his eyes and picture he was back home in his own bathroom. This thought only remained calming for a split second before his fathers face appeared in his mind instead.

He grabbed his towel wrapping it around his waist before shutting off the faucet and walking back to his barracks. “Nice shower sturniolo?,” a voice echoed in the dim lighting. Chris got changed, hearing footsteps approaching him. “Im talking to you,” the voice spoke roughly grabbing his wrist and turning him around. There he was face to face with another candidate who chose to make Chris's life a living hell ever since he’s gotten into basic training. His eyes were glued to his face, the deep scowl was all too familiar to him. “I bet you quit soon,” the man spat.

Chris held his ground not letting the man get the best of him, it was no use. “Leave him be Jones,” someone spoke in a groggy voice. The man grumbled before walking back to his own bunk.

Your feet padded down the stairs, trying to get to the mail box before your parents. It was bright and early in the morning and you were determined to see if Chris had written to you in all the time that he had been gone. The floorboards creaked under your feet as you made your way to the front door.

“Please, please” you found yourself chanting as you walked down the driveway to the mail box hoping that there would be a letter addressed to you. You could see the mail man walking towards your mailbox with a stack of letters, one of them had to be for you.

“Good morning,” he greeted you flipping through the envelopes before handing you three of them. You smiled, looking through them and finding nothing but things for your parents. The smile was replaced with a deep frown. “Were you expecting something?,” he asked, taking note of your expression.

“Yes, I was hoping for a letter,” you whispered, looking down in disappointment. “I'm sure you have a lot of writing to do,” he said, letting out a chuckle. “You’ve been getting multiple letters,” he said before walking towards your neighbor's mailbox. Your eyebrows furrowed together. “I have?” you mumbled to yourself. He must've heard you because he shouted back.

“Yes, miss, I’ve delivered several letters here. Addressed to…” Your heart sank as he said your name. Anger filled your body as you stormed back inside. “What were you doing?” your mother asked as she saw you throw the mail onto the counter. Tears filled your eyes.

“Where are they?” you choked through sobs, your body beginning to shake. She only crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at you. “Where is what?” she asks. You groan, completely fed up with the innocent act she was putting on. “The letters, Mom!” you shout, the tears spilling from your eyes; you couldn’t help it anymore. She was taken aback, rolling her eyes at your outburst.

“Here we go again…Forget about that boy,” she says, walking away. You followed after her as she walked into her bedroom. “Have you hidden them from me?” you asked, beginning to look through her nightstand. She scoffs, simply sitting on her bed as she watches you.

“I told you to forget about him; he’s not good enough for you,” she mumbles. You rummage through the drawer of the nightstand, throwing things on the floor without a care in the world. “Really? And who is good enough for me?” you question, walking towards her closet.

She stands up, walking towards you and grabbing your wrist. “This is outrageous!” she shouts, trying to shield you from the closet. “Just tell me where they are,” you sob, pulling away from her grip. Her jaw drops at seeing your tear-stained face and the obvious distraught look painting your features. She pulls away, turning her back towards you. “I threw them away,” she says.

“Keep going, candidates!” the drill sergeant yelled as Chris did push-ups in the blazing sun. His hands were firmly planted on the dirt ground, sweat dripping from his face. He couldn’t tap out yet, not when this wasn’t even the worst of drills.

“Can’t take it anymore, can you?” he heard a whisper coming from Jones, who was right beside him. Chris scoffed, continuing to do pushups and trying to think of anything else but how wobbly his arms were starting to feel. His mind started to wander to you, wondering if you had gotten the letters he sent or if you were just plain ignoring him. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you once the whole time; every morning when he woke up, you were his first thought, and when he went to sleep at night, you were the last.

Night came fast, and it was dinner time; everyone was exhausted from a long day of drills and practices for the long months to come. Chris took his tray and sat at the end of the wooden table, his eyes closing for a split second to try and block out the noise everyone was making. He found himself not making many friends in this place, although this didn’t seem like the type of place you come to make friends.

The slamming of a tray broke him from his thoughts; he opened his eyes to see Jones sitting across from him. “Are you meditating now?” he grumbles, glaring at Chris. Chris didn’t understand what Jones's problem was, but his actions and behaviors never affected him much. He was used to it by now, from years of having to deal with his father.

You sit on your bed, looking down at the blank piece of paper before you. Since your mother had thrown away the previous letters Chris sent you, there was no way to tell you what he had been going through. A knock on your door makes you look up, seeing your father enter your bedroom. “I'm sorry about the letters,” he says with a deep sigh. You only nod, still upset with your mother.

“She only wants the best for you,” he continues. How could hiding the letters be best for you? You look away, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face, but he catches it anyway.

“I'm not sure why your mother does what she does.” You yourself never understood it either. She always seemed to think she knew what was best for you, even if it clearly upset you. “I’ll talk with her,” he said after a beat of silence, leaving you alone.

The blank paper stared back at you as you begged the universe to help you find the words and transfer them onto the paper. You take a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves as you finally begin to write. The words flow perfectly onto the paper, and you find yourself telling him everything that has happened, how much you miss him, what’s going on with mother, and other little things you wanted to update him on.

The greasy pizza tasted amazing, compared to the wedding sliders. You were grateful to spend some time with your friends after this hectic day. You tried to avoid eye contact with Matt, but you could feel his stare. Almost as if his eyes were burning into your skull, you couldn’t help but wonder what his issue was. Every time you looked towards him, he looked away, pretending to be listening to someone else. Maybe he was judging you?

The whole scene your dad made at the wedding didn’t help one bit with first impressions. You found yourself twisting the bracelet on your wrist deep in thought as everyone did their own thing; it was dawning on you that soon you would have to head home. You hated being home. Matt stared at you, taking in your features and the smudged eyeliner under your eyes; he found you so beautiful. The way the wisps of your hair covered your eyes- something about you was just breathtaking. He had hardly realized you were talking to him.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” He blinked, seeing how you suddenly were sitting right beside him on the couch. You were so close he could smell the scent of your perfume; it made his heart beat faster. “I-I uh…” he trails off, gulping as he tries to think of an excuse. You couldn’t help but giggle at his nervousness; you found it cute. You opened your mouth to say something, but your friend yelled from the other room, grabbing your attention.

Smoke filled the room, ghosting your faces, as you passed a blunt around the circle. Your friend wiggled her eyebrows at you as you handed it to her with a big grin on your face. Matt sat beside you, watching as you blew o’s from your lips, amazed at the sight. He felt his cheeks heat up when your gaze met his.

“Do you want a hit?” you asked, offering him the blunt. His eyes widened; the truth was Matt had never smoked before, but he couldn’t tell you that. What if you laughed at him? He only nodded, taking the joint between his fingers and inhaling way too much. He held it for too long; it started to burn his lungs. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern. “Hey, holding it in doesn’t do anything,” you giggled. He gasped before letting out a series of coughs.

“Fuck, that was horrible,” he muttered between coughs. He felt your touch as you patted his back, looking at him with a worried look.

“So do you want sour cream and cheddar or barbecue?” you asked, turning to Matt, who was sitting on the kitchen counter as you held up two bags of chips in front of him. He hummed in response too, out of it, to comprehend what you were saying. You sat on the counter beside him, ripping out the barbecue and shoving a handful of chips in your mouth.

A soft chuckle slipped from Matt’s lips as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “Do you want one?” you asked, offering him the bag of chips. He nodded, taking a chip. “Raven?” your friend questioned, stumbling into the kitchen with a beer can in her hand. You looked up, taking in his drunken state. “Let’s get you to bed,” you said, hopping off the counter and helping her upstairs. “Love you, rave,” she whispered as you shut her bedroom door.

The stairs creaked as you walked back downstairs, noting how everyone else had left. Leaving you and Matt alone. He slumped on the couch, watching Cartoon Network play on the old TV. “You okay?” you ask, pushing him upwards as you sit beside him. He looks up, blinking at you, his eyes slowly making their way down to your lips.

“You’re very pretty,” he mumbles, dragging out the word. Your mouth gapes open, stunned by his words. Your hand moves to his face, caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. Your mind screams at you to close the distance and kiss him. His eyes are bloodshot and wide as he blinks up at you, making your heart skip a beat.  “It’s getting late,” you say after a beat of silence, dropping your hand from his face. He slowly sits up, trying to gain back his composure. “Yeah. I should head home,” He mumbles, pulling his hoodie over the front of his jeans.

You hold back a giggle, looking down at your shoes. “Do you want me to walk with you?” he asks, grabbing his skateboard. The walk to your house was silent, except for the faint hiccups coming from Matt. “You've never smoked before, have you?” you asked. “Is that obvious?” he replied, glancing towards you. The buzzing of the street lights filled in the silence as you both walked towards your house. Your phone read 1:35 am. Hopefully your father would still be passed out when you got there; you couldn’t deal with another one of his late-night outbursts.

When you both arrived at the front of your house, you took a deep breath before turning towards Matt. “Thanks for walking me home,” you said, giving him a small smile. Matt tried to keep his composure, but he felt his heart beating against his ribcage; he’d never felt this nervous before. “It’s n-no problem,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. His breath hitched when he noticed you stepped closer to him; he could feel your breath grazing his skin.

You moved closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. Matt’s face turned bright red, his eyes widening as take in his fluttered features.

“See you later, grape boy,” you whispered before turning on your heel and walking up the stairs to your house with the biggest smile on your face. He awkwardly waved at you before scurrying away on his skateboard.

“Who the hell was that?” a groggy voice asked as you slowly closed the front door. Your father was awake- great. You took yet another deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Just a friend.” He scoffed, stumbling towards you, the smell of alcohol lingering off him. It made your stomach turn as he inched closer towards you. “You better not be lying,” he mumbled, glaring down at you.

A warm glow cast over your room, you lit a candle and put on a record. Dimming the lights for the night as you flipped through a magazine. Suddenly, your bedroom door swung open, the door handle slamming into the wall in the process. There he was standing in your doorway, Rafe, your cocky stepbrother. His chest was heaving, and his jaw was tight like he was ready to pounce on someone. He slammed the door behind him as he stalked towards your bed.

“I just had an interesting conversation with Ward,” he said, his voice low as his hand wrapped around your ankle. You screech as he pulls you towards the end of the bed, forcing you to stand up.

“You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” he asks, glaring down at you. Your heart skipped a beat; you knew exactly what he was talking about. Rafe had taken money from his father to buy more drugs.

Unfortunately for him, you were a bad liar and immediately confessed. His hand gripped your jaw, your mouth gapping open. “Fucking slut,” he spat, spitting into your mouth. Heat crept onto your face as you shamelessly swallowed. A smirk appeared on his lips despite his anger, before he knelt, his hands grazing your thighs, pushing your silk nightgown up.

“What would everyone say if their perfect princess was letting her stepbrother fuck her?” he mocked, tugging the silk up your hips. He was now face to face with your panty-covered cunt, and damn did he enjoy watching you squirm when he buried his face in between your thighs.

“R-rafe, we shouldn’t…” You trail off as he nuzzles deeper into your soaked cut, his tongue lapping the thin fabric. Your hands tangle in his hair, attempting to push him away, but all you do is pull him closer. Rafe made you feel better than anyone else ever had; the ways his movements were so rough but skilled made your heart flutter.

He pulled away, pushing you down onto the bed, his lips kissing up your stomach until they reached your lips. He swallowed down your whines as his tongue explored your warm mouth.

“Such a dirty girl,” he whispered back between your thighs as his hands spread your legs. You jolted when he blew cold air on your cunt. He chuckled before roughly ripping your panties, with no care in the world.

“There she is.” His tongue darted out to taste your sweet arousal. He took his time, tasting every inch of you, letting you react to his every move. He loved the way your hips bucked against his face when he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

“It’s too much,” you protested when he replaced his tongue with his thick index finger, working you slowly. You tried to hold back your moans, but it was no use. “You can do it.” You bit your bottom lip, nodding as he continued working you open. Gasps left your mouth as he hovered over you, giving his dick a couple of strokes before tapping the tip on your swollen clit.

You were getting restless, grinding your hips against him repeatedly. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are.” You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he slammed into you in one thrust. Knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he groans, pressing his body weight onto you. You feel the ridges and veins of his pulsing cock stuffing you full. His cross chain dangled in your face as he picked up his pace. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, surely hard enough to leave marks. Your legs begin to shake; you were close, so close.

“Go on, dumb girl, come on your stepbrother's cock,” he moans into your ear. He feels your walls clench around him as loud moans leave your lips. Rafe moves closer, his hands move to your legs, pressing them against your chest as his cock pulses, filling you with his warm seed.

“Take a few more, please,” you plead as Matt holds your phone in his hand, taking pictures at various angles. You wanted to post the best birthday photoshoot on your Instagram, so of course you had to get Matt to help with taking them. You trained him pretty well, so you knew you could trust him. Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he watches you sit up in the tub and fix your party hat. The vibe you were going for was something unique, which is why you were currently sitting in a tub filled with balloons, which as first matt thought was silly. He sighs and slips your phone into his back pocket, helping you step out of the tub.

“Should we take some outside?” you question, looking up at him with a grin. Matt only shook his head and watched you practically skip outside to take more photos; he couldn’t help the smile forming on his fac An hour later, you were in bed scrolling through the pictures Matt took of you. “What do you think of these?” you ask, trying to pick out the best ones to post. Matt looks up from his own phone, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby, you’ve been looking at the same four pictures forever,” he chuckles. He leans forward, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes meeting yours. “I just want to post the best ones,” you whisper, feeling the heat of his body radiating onto you. He closes the distance between you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. His hands gently push you onto the bed as he hovers over you; a moan slips from your mouth, giving him access to wrap his lips around your tongue. Your whole body tingles as his lips travel down your neck, sucking marks into your skin. His teeth graze your sensitive flesh.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you open your mouth; he spits inside your mouth.

You feel your face heat up before you swallow his spit. His hands travel down your body, slipping under your shirt, his thumbs grazing your nipples.

“Fuck…” you whimper, your body arching into his touch. He flips you over so you're straddling him as his hands keep your hips steady, grinding you against his growing bulge. “That’s it, keep going, angel,” he praises you as you kiss his neck. You run your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at his teeth. Matt knew what you were going to ask next; you’ve been obsessed with his teeth recently.

“Go ahead, baby,” he smiles. You run your tongue over his top row of teeth, feeling him press you harder down onto him. Matt lowers you onto his length, feeling you walls wrap around him; his jaw clenches as you sink on him.

His hands cup your boobs as you begin to move, your moans filling the room. “Happy birthday, baby,” he grins fucking himself up into you. You gasp, the air almost leaving your lungs. Matt feels you clench around him, his fingers moving to rub your clit as you chase your release.