#dark!fics

The Asgardian people are ruthless. They always seem to say what's on their mind. Especially those high class snobs. Loki could say a few things to them too, but he chooses that it is not worth it. He doesn't care about his reputation. He just knows it's not worth the time. They are snobs after all. At least that's what he thought.

Loki would take you everywhere with him. He does not trust anyone to protect you, but him. Yes, some royal guards may follow you both, but they are for Loki. Prince of Asgard. Everyone knows who you are. Loki's wife. The mother of his unborn child. Loki's property. No one is allowed to touch you. No one is allowed to disrespect you. Only him. Loki made sure of it.

Loki, you, and those idiotic guards that follow walk through the Asgardian Markets. More like waddling for you. The gold rings on both yours and Loki's finger shine in the light as you both walk through the market. A matching gold necklace hangs just above the swell of your breast. The gold jewelry shows ownership of you from Loki. The necklace enchanted with Loki's seiðr. A simple gold chain with the letter 'L'. A snake wrapped around the letter 'L'. Everything about the necklace is gold except for the eyes of the snake. Emerald eyes. The eyes alert Loki if anyone has disrespected you if you somehow wandered off. You always wondered off. Always so carefree with him. You just didn't know he enchanted it.

Once again, like many other times, you have wandered off somehow. He knows that he could easily find you, but you haven't been out in a bit considering the growing child you bear. He wants you to enjoy this time.

You wonder absentmindedly. Finding a book stall, you stop. Looking over all the titles. You pick up a few baby books to flip through them quietly. As you do so a snobby voice pipes up, "You can only touch them if you're going to buy them. Insolent brat."

You look up at where the voice is coming from. An old rich lady with a face of disgust. She doesn't let you speak, "By the norns are you even pregnant? You look like you could be hoarding fifteen pillows under that dress of yours. No pregnant woman looks like that! And those breasts of yours, they have to be fake!"

Tears prick at your eyes as the woman continues her degrading. Then you feel Loki standing behind you. He speaks lowly to the woman, "Is there a problem?"

Eyes glare at you as the woman speaks to Loki, "This insolent brat-"

Loki interrupts her with a laugh, "Insolent brat you say?" Loki looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "My dear wife is being an insolent brat? How so?"

She can't even answer. The woman's mouth hangs agape. Staring at you and Loki. Loki glances at the woman, "My dear wife is never a brat. Maybe insolent, but never a brat. In fact. She's very obedient. So obedient, she let me fuck her raw to get her pregnant."

It's like everyone in the market knew to get away from the scene. No one in sight. Only the three of you and the guards off to the sides, watching with stale expressions. Loki doesn't even have to look around to know that no one is around. He just glares at the woman who decided to degrade his wife, "You should close your mouth. At the moment you are the one acting insolent. Disrespecting the prince and his wife. Pregnant wife." The woman closes her mouth as fast as possible then bowing her head to Loki and you. Oh what a dumb woman.

The feeling of Loki's arms wrapping around your waist and placing his large hands on your very pregnant stomach comforts you. The tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks were gone in an instant. Loki coos at you, kissing your head softly, as he rubs your stomach. Stutters and stumbles come out of the woman's mouth, within a flash her mouth disappears instantly. Loki. A chuckle sounds deep from Loki's chest. It vibrates your whole body, making you whimper.

Since getting pregnant your damned body has gotten way more sensitive. It doesn't help that Loki is now cupping your breast in his large hands. Rolling your nipples between his fingers through your dress. He insisted that you didn't wear a bra. He loved the way your nipples were always so hard. Always leaking with that delicious sweet milk you'd produce. He loved when your sweet milk seeped through all of your dresses. Like right now. Such a pretty sight. Standing in the Asgardian sun looking like a damn painting.

The woman watches in disbelief as she watches Loki toy with your hard leaking nipples, "Do you believe my wife is pregnant now? Hm!?"

The woman just stares at the tall god.

Loki hums disapprovingly, once again making you whimper with the sensation on your back, "Oh darling~ I don't think this woman believes us. Cats got her tongue."

Loki moves his hands off your breast, making you whimper. He coos at your noises of desperation. In a blink of an eye your dress is pulled up. It sets nicely on top of your round stomach. You swear the snob was going to faint as she saw that you weren't wearing panties under your dress. You instinctively widen your legs for Loki, like many times before.

"So obedient. Such an amazing wife for your God," Loki wraps his ringed hand around your neck. Not enough to hurt you, but enough were you feel drunk off of the pleasure. His other hand drifting over your stomach, between your parted legs. His pointer finger drags over your spread cunt. Slit to clit. Wet as always. He brings the finger to his mouth. Sucking it dry of your juices. He lets out a loud moan. The taste of your milk mixed with your cunt on his finger is amazing, "Oh so sweet."

You lean further into him as you both stand. Loki moves his finger back to your clit. Rubbing in tight circles. You let out soft moans. Music to his ears. He'd listen to you all day. Fuck, when did he get hard?

The woman face pales as she watches the two of you. The way Loki's ring glints in the sun as he chokes you. The way he touches your clit so perfectly. The way your head falls back onto his shoulder. His grip on your neck never loosening even as you move. The way you roll your hips into Loki's hand and the way it makes your round stomach look. Your dress soaked from your breast milk. The necklace that hangs near the swell of your breast. Moving as you moan and whimper.

Loki can tell you're close to cumming. He shoves his two middle fingers into your cunt. The fingers hit that sweet spot as the palm of his hand rubs against your clit. That familiar coil starts to get tighter and tighter.

Then it snaps.

Your moans vibrate the hand on your neck. You moan so loudly. Even if this part of the market is clear there is no doubt people could hear you across the market. Your cunt clenches so tight on his fingers. He continues to finger you through your orgasm. Nipples leaking even more. Stomach tensing a bit.

Definitely pregnant. The woman faints. Hitting the stone and dirt of the market. Loki chuckles. He pulls his fingers out of your wet cunt. Making you whimper. You're so sensitive. Loki motions for the guards near by to pick the woman off the ground, "Put the damn snob in the dungeons."

The woman gets drug off by the guards. Leaving you and Loki alone. Loki spins you around so you're facing him. Your dress still laying on top of your stomach. He places his hands on your stomach bending to kiss it. Little kicks hit his hands. Damn these mischievous twins. He stands upright. He places a kiss on your forehead, nose, then lips. Soft and slow.

            You’ll never remember the day you were born, but you’ll always remember the day you nearly died. You always knew that something greater, something purely made up of goodness & peace would be on the other side, but you never knew if the moments leading to it would be of contentment or violence. They were rather morbid thoughts, you knew that much, but they were thoughts that often kept you awake at night. Yet, they were not thoughts that scared you. You had never feared death simply because you knew where you would be going. Heaven, paradise, the great beyond, whatever the name for it was, you knew it was waiting for you. So you needn’t be scared.

            But it wasn’t the same for you mother. She had been young, you had only been a baby—not even a year old—when a man made up of pure evil murdered her one night. She had been working the night shift at the hospital & was exhausted, she never knew someone was watching her. She had never seen her attacker coming. He snuck up behind her, stuck a knife into her spine, & ran off with her purse. Despite being in the parking lot of a hospital, your mother had bled out before anyone found her. Here one moment, gone the next. She died a violent death. You prayed you wouldn’t experience the same.

            Fortunately, your father had always been gracious in protecting you. He put you in the best schools, raised you in the safest neighborhoods, kept good company, & always had your best interests at heart. It’s why you trusted him to guide you. He may have been the well-loved & highly respected reverend that he was, but more so, he was your guardian angel. It’s why instead of going to college immediately upon graduating high school, you made the decision to move with him to a new town in the south. You decided you would take a year off, live a year for yourself before you dedicated the rest of your life to whichever path was laid out before you. Your father had urged you to go to school, but trusted you to make the right decisions for yourself.

            And that’s how you found yourself in a small, island town called Kildare. It was a Friday, & you had only moved to the town yesterday. Your father paid for movers to get the house set up before your arrival, but you insisted on setting up your own room. After you decorated your room & unpacked your clothes, you opened up the only window in your room to let in the east coast breeze. You had been to the beach very few times in your life, but you were excited to explore the island. It had been saddening leaving your friends back in your hometown, but a majority of them were going off to college or traveling the world, so you figured this would be a new chapter in your life.

            “_____!” You heard your father calling your name from downstairs. You slipped off your bed & entered the hallway, glancing over the banister to spot your father at the bottom of the stairs.

            “I’m going to head to the church & get some work done there for my first service on Sunday, would you like to come with?”

            You smiled & nodded, “Let me get my sandals.”

            With that, you quickly slipped into your sandals before checking your outfit once in the mirror before grabbing your phone.

            The drive to the church was quick. It was telling to you how small the town was with how easy it was to get around. Getting out of your dad’s car, you peered at the church from the rear side. The front entrance was on the beach & you grinned at how beautiful the tiny church was. You had spent your entire life within the walls of the church & you had never known a safer place to be.

            You had heard all the insults & jeers to go along with it, but you brushed most of it off. You knew what it was like to be the reverend’s daughter, to be picked on or made fun of because of it. But you never felt the need to defend your lifestyle. People would find anything to be angry about, & a lot of people were angry with God. That wasn’t your fault. Of course, you knew a lot of people did not have the experience with faith that you had, & you were empathetic to those people, but you had always considered yourself fortunate for having a positive upbringing under His love.

            Your father slung his arm over your shoulders as he eyed the church with you, “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

            “Truly.” You replied.

            You were eager to see the inside. The church your dad had worked at previously was much older & had a lot more character & history to it. The church before you was still young-looking, but you knew it would be just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. Once you stepped inside, you were relieved your instinct was correct. The interior of the church was indeed stunning.

            The ceilings were high, the walls painted white with the North Carolina sun beaming in. It was much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside but still much smaller than the one you grew up in. You knew then that the congregation for this church must be less than 100 people. It was only slightly worrisome, being surrounded by a smaller group of believers, but you were looking forward to meeting new people & making new friends, nonetheless.

            Your father got to work right away, reciting passages from his bible as he stood at the lectern. It was a comforting pastime, listening to him practice his sermon’s while you did your homework or read along with him in your own bible—which also happened to be your late mother’s. But now with no homework & your bible left on your bedside table, you simply walked around the church, admiring the different views from the windows. For the next thirty minutes, you explored the church & all of it’s hidden secrets. In the private backrooms, you found what would be your father’s office, a picture of your mother already on his desk. You gently fingered all of the books on his shelves & smiled when coming across one of his Sudoku books.

            After getting your fill of the new church, you returned to the main room. Your father was deep into his practice when you gently tapped him on the shoulder.

            “I’m going to go for a walk.” You told him, “Explore Kildare.”

            “Okay, sweetheart.” He grinned at you, his eye-glasses placed near the end of his nose, “You have your phone?”

            “’Course.” You tapped your jean pocket.

            “When I finish here I will come pick you up.”

            “Okay.” You agreed, raising onto your toes to give him a kiss on his cheek, “Have fun.”

            Exiting the church, you continued forward onto the beach. You slipped out of your sandals & kept them dangling from your curled fingers.

            The ocean breeze was refreshing. It was early July & you were impressed at how hot it wasn’t. The sun felt good on your skin & you enjoyed the taste of saltwater on your lips. You took your time walking along the shore, your eyes cast out over the ocean the whole time. It had been a little after four in the afternoon when you left the church. You knew your father wouldn’t be done until about six, so you had a couple hours to yourself.

            Your feet were soaked up to your ankles & you wiggled your toes in the sand. A few others walked nearby: an elderly couple holding hands, a mother & her young son flying a kite, a few girls around your age lying on beach towels. Honestly, you had expected more activity on such a beautiful day on a beautiful beach, but you supposed it was a small town. Perhaps there were more important matters for the residents of Kildare.

            As five ‘o’clock rolled around, you felt your stomach growl. You regretfully began walking away from the beach towards a boardwalk in the distance. You were unsure of how far you walked from your father’s church, but you knew it couldn’t have been too far. Once at the boardwalk, you put your sandals back on & window-shopped. A lot of boutiques & small bakery shops lined the boardwalk. A few vendors had booths open selling items from seashells to books to jewelry. You were relieved you had some cash on you, deciding to buy a small seashell that was the perfect blend of white & blue. It would be a gift for your mother. You’d place it near her urn that your father kept in the living room & welcome her to Kildare.

            After making small-talk with a few of the locals, you finally spotted a small diner. It’s name was SaltWater & the name alone reminded you of how hungry you were. Heading towards the diner, you entered & quickly found a small booth in the corner meant for two people. The interior of the diner was quaint & fitting of a town like Kildare. There was very few patrons inside so the only waitress that appeared to be on shift was quick to greet you.

            “Evening, darlin’.” She was older, perhaps in her 50’s & had a thick southern accent. It was different but exciting.

            “What can I get started for ya?”

            You hadn’t even looked at the menu yet but felt safe ordering an ordinary cheeseburger with fries & a shake.

            She swiftly turned away with a wink & disappeared behind the counter. You inhaled sharply & glanced out the window. It was still bright out & you watched as locals & tourists alike walked along the boardwalk & bought items for themselves or loved ones. You hoped to come to the boardwalk again but with your father, & maybe after some time, a group of friends.

            With the diner being so slow, your food was quick to arrive. You thanked the waitress but not before she made a comment about you being a face she didn’t recognize.

            “You new, huh, sweetheart.” She stated.

            “Yeah.” You smiled, taking a single bite of one of the fries. Salty indeed.

            “I can tell. Tourists have a look to ‘em. Not you, though.” She teased.

            “I hope that’s a good thing?” You returned, biting your lip anxiously.

            “It is, honey, it is. Tourists ‘round here only bring more problems for us locals. Kids your age get into a lot of trouble this time of year. Kooks & tourists, the worst combo.”

            “Kooks?” You questioned.

            But before she could respond, a bell dinged from the kitchen.

            “’scuse me, darlin’. Enjoy your meal, it’s on me tonight.”

            “Oh, no, really—” But she had already walked away.

            You were grateful for her kindness & it made your cheeseburger taste that much better. The shake you ordered was strawberry & you often dipped your fries into it, enjoying the salty & sweet combination.

            You didn’t see much of your waitress after your meal. Another girl had come into work & she was closer to your age. She had long blonde hair & bright eyes. But despite how angelic she appeared, you observed a cloud cast over her. She often kept her head down & avoided meeting the eyes of others.

            She stopped by to check on you & you ordered another shake, strawberry again. She jotted it down before moving behind the counter. You pulled out your phone & checked the time, it was a quarter to six. You imagined your father would be finishing up soon so you planned on ordering him a burger to go.

            A moment later, the young waitress returned with your shake. You thanked her & were about to ask her to put in a to go order when another door at the other end of the diner slammed open.

            A group of rowdy boys piled into the compact diner, their voices loud & boisterous as they all clambered into the closest booth. There were so many of them that they took up two booths. But what you noticed most of all was how your waitress responded to their arrival.

            She rolled her eyes & sighed, speaking quietly to herself, “Great. Here we go.”

            Before you could place your order, she moved behind the counter once more. You watched as she cast an annoyed glance at the group of boys. You wondered if this is what your waitress from earlier had been referring to. Were these the tourists that caused problems?

            Your gaze landed on the group of boys. They were all talking over one another or shoving each other off their seats. There was no one else in the diner except for you, the waitress, the group of boys, & you assumed a cook or two in the back.

            “Jordaaaaan!” A voice called then & it came from one of the boys in the group.

            “Oh, Jordaaaaan! C’mon, baby, we’re starving over here.”

            Your eyes flashed to blonde behind the counter as she ignored the boys. Then one of them moved out of the booth & towards the counter. He slapped his hand on the flat surface then whistled, “Hello, earth to Jordan, we’d like some service.”

            “I’ll be there in a second, Rafe, please.” The waitress, who you knew now was Jordan, glanced at him over her shoulder.

            The young man rolled his eyes & made a face at his group of friends whom all laughed raucously.

            “If you have time for your ‘Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ’”, the man air quoted with his fingers, “you have time for the people who are actually real & here & h u n g r y.”

            Jordan shook her head but finally exited the counter to approach the group of boys, avoiding the young man at the counter as she moved around him.

            “What can I get started for you?” Her voice was soft, tired, but you still managed to hear it.

            Then all at once, every single boy began ordering. You could see the annoyance on Jordan’s face as she didn’t even bother writing anything down.

            It was burger this, burger that, fries galore, multiple shakes in different flavors, demands for extra napkins & complaints about empty ketchup bottles. You felt your skin crawl noticing her discomfort. But then the man who stood at the counter stepped up behind her & placed his hands on her shoulders & jostled her as if she was a child, “Don’t fuck up our order again, Jordan.”

            You reacted before you could even think about it. Standing up, you approached the group of boys giving your waitress a hard time & you tried to catch her eyes. Once you had, she peered at you wide-eyed.

            “Are you okay?” You questioned, ignoring the numerous glares that were suddenly being cast towards you.

            A scoff came from the man who still had his hands on Jordan’s shoulders once he spotted you, “She’s fine.”

            You ignored his input, never dropping your eyes from Jordan’s, “Do you need some help?”

            “Uh—”

            “Hey!” Another young man sitting down yelled out, “Wait your turn!”

            Jordan lowered her eyes once more before shuffling out from under the young man’s hands, “Your order will be right out.”

            Her voice was small & she quickly found solace behind the counter. You moved to follow after her, keep yourself between her & them, but just as you moved, a firm grasp gripped your wrist & halted you. You spun around & glared down at the hand that held you up. Following the length of the hand it led you to a tanned arm up to the face of the young man who was leading the unnecessary harassment.

            “Mind your business.” His blue eyes glared into yours.

            You ripped your arm out of his grip, “No.”

            With that, you closed the distance between where you stood & the counter where Jordan remained, punching in an order into a POS system.

            “Hey.” You greeted softly, your eyes meeting hers.

            She glanced at you once before returning her gaze to the screen, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

            “I can kick them out if you want.” You offered, not fearful of the boys behind you.

            Jordan gave a short laugh, unimpressed with your offer, “It’ll take the entire US armed forces to get rid of them.”

            “What about the cooks?” You gestured with your chin to the window that peered into the kitchen.

            “Too high or drunk or don’t care.” She responded bitterly, “Look, thanks for your help, but I’ll be fine. I can handle them.”

            “But—”

            “You heard her.” A voice suddenly sounded to your right followed by an unwelcome arm slinging over your shoulder, “She can handle us.”

            “Ugh.” You shrugged the young man’s arm off, “Do not touch me. And don’t touch her, either.”

            The man laughed & at this angle with him being quite taller than you & closer to the artificial lights embedded in the ceiling, you could see how red his eyes were.

            Oh. So that explains it. He’s one of those types.

            “What’s your problem, sweetheart?” He finally cast his eyes down on you, “This has nothing to do with you.”

            “You’re my problem.” You replied firmly before glancing at the group of boys watching in awe behind him, “All of you are. How embarrassing & sad it is to come in here & harass her. Have you nothing better to do? Are your lives really that boring?”

            Your eyes met the young man’s once again though this time he didn’t look as jovial as he had a moment ago, “Are your souls that empty?”

            The man’s eyes fell to your neck then, his gaze narrowing. Then, before you could stop him, he reached forward & yanked on the necklace around your neck, snapping it off as if it was cheap metal (it wasn’t).

            “Ha, well looky here, boys. We got another bible thumper in the midst.” The young man held up your necklace. It was a small golden heart pendant with ’God’ engraved on it.

            “See, Jordan?” He held your necklace out of reach as you attempted to get it back, “Guess you’re not entirely alone. Another Jesus freak to keep you company.”

            “Quit it!” You demanded, finally getting a hold of your necklace & ripping it out of his grasp.

            “And get out!” You pointed to the door, “Seriously! Leave her alone, don’t come back here, & maybe find something decent inside yourselves.”

            The boys behind him erupted into laughter at your response. The young man leaned against the counter, resting on his elbow as his eyes danced from you to Jordan, “Alright, fine. We’ll leave. But we’ll be back.”

            He caught Jordan’s gaze, “Won’t we?”

            “Go.” You repeated.

            His eyes met yours once more & he laughed harshly before taking a step back, throwing his hands up together to mock praying, “Tell your God to forgive me, sister.”

            The boys guffawed with roars of laughter.

            One by one they slowly filed out, & you were relieved when the door finally slammed shut behind them.

            “Geez, who were those guys?” You questioned out loud, not really expecting an answer.

            “Kildare’s finest.” Jordan responded dryly, “Thanks, though. If you hadn’t said anything they would have been in here all night making a mess of the place.”

            “They’re locals?” The possibility horrified you.

            “They’re more than that. They’re the money of Kildare. Born & raised with silver spoons shoved up their… well, you know.”

            You shook your head in disbelief, “I try to feel sorry for people like that but in this case, I can’t fathom it.”

            “Believe me, Rafe Cameron is the last person on this island you should feel sorry for.”

            “He the ring-leader?” You asked.

            “Yup.” She nodded, “What’s ironically funny about him though is that he’s been picking on me since high school, ya know, for my beliefs. But then parades around town with his pack of wolves as if he’s a god himself. Just funny.”

            “Mmm.” You frowned, not liking Rafe Cameron whatsoever the more you learned about him.

            “I’m Jordan, by the way.” Jordan smiled, a real smile.

            “_____.” You returned, offering your hand for her to shake.

            “Oh!” Her eyes lit up for the first time since you entered the diner, “You’re the new reverend’s daughter.”

            “Yeah.” You grinned proudly.

            “I’ve watched a couple of his sermon’s on YouTube, he knows what he’s talking about.” She commented.

            “Yes, he does.” If there was only one thing you could be proud of in life it would be your father.

            “That’s so cool. I had heard he moved here with his daughter, but I don’t know, guess I thought you’d be younger.”

            “18.” You replied, “Turn 19 in November.”

            “I turn 19 in December!” Jordan squealed with excitement.

            The two of you shared a laugh before your phone started ringing. You pulled it out & it was your dad.

            “Sorry, my dad.”

            “Oh, wow, I can’t wait to meet him.” She admitted.

            “Are you a member of the church he’s working out of?”

            “Yup.” Jordan smiled brightly, “It’ll be a nice change, the last reverend… well, he had some scandals under his robes.”

            You had heard of them but didn’t like thinking about it too often.

            You shot your dad a quick text as to where you were at & he responded with saying he’d be there in 10 minutes.

            “Well, my dad is on his way to get me. Can we give you a ride home?”

            Jordan clicked her tongue, “Shift just started, sadly.”

            “Oh, right.” You recalled her showing up not long ago.

            “But maybe we can trade numbers & hangout sometimes. I don’t have a lot of friends here.”

            The confession disheartened you.

            “I’d love to.”

            The two of you traded numbers & made plans to hang out after church in two days. Your dad arrived shortly after & you waved goodbye to Jordan. On the drive home, you considered your first day in Kildare a success. You had explored, made friendly with a few locals, connected with Jordan, & practically spat in the face of a young wannabe god. All in all, you had nothing to complain about, but you were certain that before you went to bed tonight, you would pray for a happy, fulfilling year, a life-long friendship with Jordan, & for that lost & damaged soul whose blue eyes left you feeling almost sorry for them.

helllooo friends.

this is chapter one of what is going to be a very long, very extensive series featuring rafe cameron. it will be told in dual POV's (reader & rafe's), so the series will be ongoing for quite some time.

that being said, i am very excited to write this series & share it with you all.

as always, please share your thoughts with me via dropping a comment, reblogging with reviews, or talking to me in my inbox.

thank you all for your patience as this story unfolds as it will likely be 40 chapters considering half of it is told from rafe's pov.

love you all!

oona<3

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Your date had only laughed when you stared at him blankly, asking him to explain his joke again, and the rational part of you was sure he didn’t mean any harm, the rational part of you was sure it was lighthearted—he was a nice guy—but still you felt that familiar sting in your eyes at the response.

Even when you brought the night to a close, you refused a ride home from him, denying it so harshly he was stuck at the table for a bit when you stormed out, hot tears staining your cheeks, and you didn’t see him leave—maybe he was still inside and talking up another girl who didn’t take every little thing so personally.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You startle at the voice and snap your head up to follow the sound, leading your eyes to a tall man wearing a leather jacket, leaning against the wall of the next building over to the restaurant you had stomped out of. He cards a hand through his hair and steps forward, and instinctively you step back, feeling an air of danger about him, darker than just a mugger in the night.

You wipe away the last of your tears and sniffle softly before quickly bring your focus back to the street, mentally pleading for your driver to pull up, too scared to fish your phone back out of your bag to check how far he is, and clutching your purse tighter.

He groans, “Please, sweetheart, I’m talkin’ to you.”

“No,” you reply, quietly, not making a move to look back up at his captivating blue eyes, a slight fear that if you look back at him, you’ll never be able to look away again. Or he’ll be the last thing you see. “I’m not.”

“You sure, princess?” He takes another step towards you, and this time you can’t muster up the courage to move away, frozen still. “Looked like you were cryin’.”

You grow irritated not with him but more with yourself, for somehow having shown such weakness to a man in the shadows—but how could you have known?

“I wasn’t,” you lie, finding yourself holding back tears again, begging any higher power out of the dozens believed to help you out just this one time and have your driver pull around the corner. The streets are empty and quiet, the only two people in the world you and him, and the only noise his painstakingly slow footsteps towards you, and your rapidly beating heart. “I wasn’t,” you repeat again, predicting you would sound more confident, but your voice cracks, and you wince at the sound of his sigh in response.

“Aw, don’t cry...” You gasp as he suddenly pulls you flush against his chest, caging your body to his with his right arm pressing into your lower back and his left gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. A smile spreads across his gorgeous face as your tears well up. You want to look to the sky to stop drops from falling, but you can’t, not because of his light grip, but because of that sadistic glint in his eyes, absolutely fascinating you.

A drop spills from an eye, and he tilts his head, watching it roll down your cheek. Your eyes glisten with tears and his glisten with delight, relishing in each drop that rolls down your cheek, as you can do nothing but stare up helplessly at him, paralysed by fear.

He leans down and presses a light kiss on your cheek, one you might have found loving if given to you by someone close.

“You’re so pretty,” he remarks, bringing his other hand up to cup your face, unconcerned with keeping you near, knowing you can’t move if you tried. He rubs calloused thumbs across your cheeks, wiping the tears away as he admires your features. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, gaze roaming your face until they land on your terrified eyes, and he smiles again.

“What, never learned how to take a compliment, princess?”

You blink up him, starting to tremble very slightly, your mouth slightly agape. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you manage a meek, “Thank you…”

“Bucky,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you repeat, just wanting him to let you go, at this point completely disinterested with where your driver is, just him to leave you alone.

“Now, won’t you tell a nice guy like me why you’re cryin’? Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head weakly, willing yourself to just stop fucking crying.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grips your face slightly firmer, not hard, but enough to make you understand his determination. “Did some guy make you cry, angel?” he asks, gently.

Despite your better judgement, you nod; maybe that is the best judgement, to just respond the way he wants so he might just leave you alone. No, your compliance is only seeming to spur him on, as shown by a pity frown taking shape on his face, and you can’t quite place if he’s mocking you or trying to seem more empathetic in some weird way.

“No, a sweet girl like you?” He places a kiss on your forehead. “You’re precious, angel.”

You shift uncomfortably, unable read the situation, unable to tell if he’s just fucking with you or if he feels bad. And you don’t have to, because just as he pulls away to look at you, you hear tyres against gravel, a car pulling around the corner, snapping you out of your… trance, and whipping your head to see a white corolla.

“Stay beautiful, doll,” Bucky says, and he slips into the shadows before you can grasp it. Cold air rushes against your cheeks—you hadn’t realised his hands were relatively warm—making you feel more exposed. For good measure, you quickly wipe away tears before hoping into the car with a smile to your driver.

Your date texts you the next morning, apologises for upsetting you—even though he doesn’t know how—and asks for a redo, or a second date, kinda, he puts it. With a clear mind, you do feel bad for being so dramatic and overly sensitive last night, and thinking back on it, a little rude with how short you were being with him when all he did was laugh lightly, it wasn’t malicious. He was a nice guy. You’re still shaken from the previous night, but maybe a casual date will relax you.

You agree, and he immediately responds, suggesting another restaurant for that evening.

You feel very pretty in your dress as you enter the restaurant and sit at table. You had arrived only 10 minutes late, so maybe you should just give him more time to show up. You didn’t want to order, but the waitress seemed to be getting impatient, and so you ordered something light and ate alone. An hour and he still isn't here. Your plate is cleared away, barely anything touched, and a few teardrops splashed at the edges.

You’re sniffling in the corridor of your apartment as you fumble with your keys and stumble in, trying not to completely break down as you kick off your shoes and head straight for your bedroom, thinking that you could escape some crying if you just fell asleep.

You’re sobbing quietly as you enter, pushing the door behind you, not even caring that it didn’t really close, ready to flop onto bed.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You gasp and spin to the sound of that familiar voice, the same words being spoken in the same tone as the previous night.

Bucky pushes the door and this time it clicks shut. He looks up at you, and his blue eyes catch the moonlight in a soft yet sinister manner, causing you to stumble back. You can barely see him through the tears blurring your vision and the dark room.

“Bucky?” you whisper, unnecessarily, seeing as of fucking course it’s Bucky.

He bends his head back slightly with a smile. “I love the way you say my name, doll. Can you say it again for me?”

You take a few steps back, heart racing faster than you ever thought it could, and let out a quiet shriek as your heel hits the foot of your bed and your fall back onto it. Bucky is hovering over you in a flash, one hand propping him up and his right slipping under your dress to rub soothing circles on your thigh.

“Did he stand you up?” He leans down, lips between your ear and neck. “He doesn’t like you, princess.”

You try not to let out a sound, but you can’t stop a choked sob from escaping, and he smiles against your neck. You turn your head away, but he stays near, his voice hovering just above your ear. “He doesn’t like you, and he can’t take care of you, sweetheart, he can’t.”

Despite your efforts, another choked gasp escapes you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll just go away.

“You’re shaking,” he notes, changing his circular motions from clockwise to anti. “Are you scared, doll? Am I scaring you?”

“Yes!” you gasp as he kisses your neck.

“No…” he replies against your skin, faux-disbelief coating his tone. “But I won’t hurt you, angel; he will.”

He lies down next to you and brings his left hand up to stroke your face. “It’s okay, you can cry,” he coaxes, and you do, breath escaping your lungs in short gasps as tears fall and he wipes them away, kissing your neck and still rubbing circles on your thigh. “You can cry…”

His thumb slides to your inner thigh and you squirm, but he quickly stops you by harshly gripping your thigh. Once he’s sure you won’t twist again, he runs his finger up and down your inner thigh with a sigh.

“You’ll learn to love this, doll, but for now… you can cry…” He shifts downward and pulls your dress up. “A sweet girl like you’s gotta taste sweet too.”

✪

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Read more: Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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The FBI was very different to the CIA – there was a lot more hustle and bustle, and you tried to blend in as much as you could, giggling at the water cooler with the other women from the office, trying to get gossip that could actually be beneficial. Lucy, the receptionist, had managed to slip during a coffee-break, talking about an anonymous man, who seemed to slip in and out of the office constantly. It was strange, how little people noticed, because he was a tall and broad man, and she had conspiratorially whispered to you, that it was strange that there always seemed to be a case right after his visits.

“I mean, you’ve never seen his face?” You asked casually, tipping your coffee-cup to your lips. She shook her head. “No, that’s the weird part, right? I mean, he just comes and goes, I’m not even sure he work…” She stopped talking when your “boss”, Mr. Jansen, came over and gestured for you to follow him into the office.

“Y/N, I’m going to need your help. You are very skilled at what you do, and I can appreciate you helping from the office, but I have gotten a tip.” You sat down. Jansen was a no-nonsense kind of man, and you were mentally preparing for whatever he was going to say. He never coddled anyone. “I need you to go undercover in M16. I got a tip that someone from there is trying to bring the internal parts of FBI down, and we need to nip it in the bud.” Again? You were going to be a triple-agent, now? “Sir, I…” “It’s not a question, it’s an order. Pack up, you’re doing double-duty.” “Sir, I just started here, and…” “And you have a glowing review. You got this. Now, get.” You stood and walked to your office, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening. You grabbed your phone and debated calling Mr. Walker, but thought better of it; you were undercover, and you couldn’t afford to blow it now.

 M16 was a whole different shit-show. You had been thrown into the middle of some serious office-heat, agents on each other like cats in an alley, and you were surprised any type of work was being done around here. On your first day, you had – unfortunately – to give a sweating, large man a kiss with your fist, when he thought it was smart to put a hand up your skirt. Everybody pretty much got the message after that, and most lewd comments weren’t said to your face, at least.

Not that it mattered to you at all, because you seemed to have stumbled upon something bigger than moles in the organizations – it seemed to run a lot deeper, weaving some dangerous webs. You couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that whoever did this (or helped) didn’t bother to try and cover their tracks.

 It seemed to be some sort of manifesto, that had been hidden under layers of coding, and for now, all you had managed to get deciphered was Lark and Apostoles, which, granted, didn’t give you much to on, but it did lead you down the rabbit hole. It would seem as if there was a larger ploy at work here, and you were beginning to feel uneasy about it.

A late night – after pushing several men away from your desk with the promise of castrating them with a finger, if they didn’t leave – you finally managed to get through, and you were surprised at how much information lay between the many lines of the manifesto, along with several instructions to both the FBI and M16; The Syndicate seemed to be printed along any and everything, and you felt sick to your stomach. John Lark was the name that kept popping up, along with a simple A., who seemed to be the one giving instructions on how to dismantle several areas of the inner workings of the FBI and M16.

It wasn’t a mole, it was several. And they all worked towards the same, common goal: Destroy a third of the world’s population. You had to admit, the way they talked about it both gave you a case of serious ick, but also intrigue. You weren’t really on any rouge sides, nor had you ever wanted to be, but there was something in the way they described the entire thing… It was overwhelming. Haunting. But beautiful, even though you were well aware that it would be impossible to ever get done.

 “Y/L/N.” You screwed your eyes shut and turned before opening them, looking at the very angry face of Porter, your “boss”, who was currently tapping her heeled foot to the ground. “Are you alone in the office?” You nodded. She terrified you. “Good.” She walked with brisk steps to your desk and sat down, pointing at the several folders full of your findings. “I see I’m not the only one, who managed to figure out something was off.” You shook your head. “No, ma’am.” She didn’t need to know that you theoretically had been sent by C.I.A and FBI. “I’m glad someone has a bright head. It’s why I trust you to do this.” She sighed. “How long have you worked here?” “Uh, around six months?” You answered. “Would you be comfortable to be in the field?” “I mean, that’s what I was trained for… Do we have an OP, I’m not aware of?” She shook her head. “No, this is very much between only a few people in the office. It needs to be dark.” “Okay…?” Her eyes bored into yours. “Can I trust you?” No. “Of course, ma’am.” “Good. Now, I need an insider on the C.I.A. I need feet on the ground and eyes on the sky in there.” She pointed to the folder in front of you. “I’m sure I’ve found a link between some of the higher ups in there and John Lark.” You gulped. “Uhm, ma’am…” “I know, it sounds crazy, right? But look at this.” She flipped a few pages and pointed to a signature, along with a few lines of instructions. “That is definitely government speech. I can sense it, and we need to dismantle this shit as quickly as we can. Weed the weeds before they grow roots.” You didn’t exactly want to tell her that for weeds to grow, they already had roots. “Okay. What do you need?”

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Walking back into your real workplace was somewhat unsettling. You had to try and lie your way through why you were back; not that you truly thought it mattered, because nobody would bat an eyelid at you for being back. Well, except Mr. Walker.

“Y/L/N?” Shit. “Hi, Mr. Walker.” He was next to you in two wide strides, brows furrowed and upper lip trembling a little. “What the hell are you doing back here?” In a very unceremonious way, he grabbed a tight hold of your elbow and dragged you to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. “You were supposed to be on intel with the FBI!” You sighed. Time to lie your face off. “FBI sent me on a wild goose chase. I’m sure they’re trying to get the lead buried before I can get to it, and I just needed…” You sighed and rubbed your forehead. “I guess I just needed some sort of normalcy. I think better here.” You said, biting your lip. He stared at you, gesturing for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk. “You came back to think?” You shrugged, sitting down. “I suppose. They’re… Well, it’s a harder job than I expected it to be.” You said – it wasn’t a lie, per se, you were just omitting parts of the truth. In all honesty, at this point, you actually didn’t care who did what, who was behind what, and who or what wanted to blow up a third of the world. You really just wanted to have one damn organization to stick to, thank you very much. He looked at you, clearly searching your face for something – any signs of lies. “What do you know?” He commanded. He stood against his desk, arms crossed, and you realized two things at once; first, that he was very attractive when he was being all demanding and used his “I’m in charge”-voice, and second, that his eyes flickered for a brief second. The smallest of movements, something most – if not all – people would miss.

It was a flicker of fear.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The signature of A, the tall, broad man who kept to the shadows at the FBI, the somewhat familiar wording in the manifesto.

 “Not much yet.” You lied trough your teeth. “There’s rumblings about someone going in and out of the high office, but not much more than that. A lot of watercooler-gossip, so far, but not anything of note.” You swallowed thickly, and your eyes fell on his pants, where you saw the gun resting against his hip. Well, that and the other gun.

“Hm.” He tilted his head to the side. “And what does the watercooler-gossip tell you?” “That Lucy is fucking her boss.” You said nonchalantly – you didn’t know how to word anything out without giving yourself up. “Apparently, she got some intel from him about something being coded heavily, but that’s the gist of it.” You saw the way his demeanor changed, even before he moved or talked again; there was an unmistakable shift in him, and it made your stomach drop in fear. He sighed and pushed off from the desk, leaning over you, large, thick and muscular arms trapping you in, as his hands grabbed the sides of the chair.

“Y/N. How about we don’t lie to each other?” he said with a dangerous smile. “Sir, I’m…” “Don’t play with me, little bird.” You choked on your own spit at the nickname. “I’m well aware that you’re an incredibly talented and bright woman. It’s really on me, trying to throw you off by sending you somewhere else, digging for leads that wouldn’t get you anywhere.” You swallowed thickly, fear seeping from your pores. The way he looked at you, completely calm and collected, with a small, dangerous smirk on his lips and eyes lit with rage, sent shivers of fear down your spine. “I should’ve known better. See, my problem with you…” He leaned in a little closer, his face closer to yours. “Is that I like you, little bird. Oh, how I liked watching you look at me all attentive, your back straightening every time I spoke the smallest command.” You couldn’t breathe. “It was so easy for me to control what you looked into, what you saw and what you did, when you were right under my nose. You got a little too close, didn’t you? A few months ago, you stumbled on some very bad information, and you…” He smirked dangerously and almost degrading at you. “You ran straight to me, like I would’ve been able to save it. I had to send you off. I needed you away, so you didn’t screw up more for me.” You swallowed thickly. “Sir, I’m… I won’t…” “No, you won’t.” he pushed away from your chair and his eyes glinted. “Go on, little bird, spread those sweet, little wings.” He nodded at the door behind you. It was instant, the way your body kicked into gear; fight or flight was on the tip of your tongue, you could taste metal as you practically jumped the chair and rushed to the door.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. As soon as your fingers landed on the lock, a strong hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you roughly against the door. You exhaled a shaky whimper at the impact; you were well aware that August Walker had killed people with less than a hand on their neck, and for the first time in your life, you were fearful of death. His body pressed against your back, fingers wrapping in your hair and pulling roughly. You were shivering as his torso pressed against you, his breath hot and sticky on your exposed neck. “Oh, sweetheart, why would you think I would make it easy on you?” His lips scraped against your neck, his beard tickling you – you wanted to vomit. “I’m going to make things very hard for you now.” With a single move, he had you turned around, hand still on your neck and in your hair, and he pushed you down to the small sofa in the corner of his office. You grunted when your back hit the sofa, and your head would’ve hit the wall, if he didn’t have a strong grip on you. He slowly, while his eyes were burning into yours, moved his hands until his thick fingers pressed against your throat, cutting off air supply. You tried to struggle against his grip, clawing at his arms, but you were too small, too weak for him to even take notice. His eyes darkened when he took your state in; your hair was coming loose from your bun, your skirt had ridden up on your thighs, your chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, and unshed tears glossed your eyes over. It was a sight to him. “Well… I did have other plans, but I suppose we can make our own fun first.” He mused, his free hand trailing down your body. “Don’t fucking touch me!” You spat breathlessly at him, trying to recoil from his touch. He didn’t take that well. His hand collided with your cheek, the smack echoing in his office, and you felt, more than you heard, the small crunch of your jaw moving slightly out of place. “Don’t test me, you fucking slut. I’m trying to be nice, and that’s how you repay me?” He was seething with rage, and his grip on your throat tightened even more; you gasped, the air leaving your body completely now. He spat at your face, the spit landing on your cheek and nose and he hummed appreciatively at the sight. “There’s a good, little whore.” His thumb caressed your skin, smearing the spit around. You felt the burning of tears in your eyes. “You can cry. I like it when you do.” He said with a dangerous smile, his free hand again moving down your body. You didn’t have a choice, there was nowhere to go, and you wanted to throw up at the feeling of his fingers on you; you ignored the sliver of you that began to respond to him, desperate for your body to shut off. With a flick of his wrist, three buttons on your shirt popped off, and he had a view to your chest. “I always knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N.” You saw black spots float in and out of your vision, and you almost hoped to just pass out. His grip slackened. “Oh no, we can’t have that, can we? You deserve to see, what we’re going to do together, little bird.” You whimpered and tried to clench your thighs together to avoid his fingers dipping in. He chuckled darkly and with the same effort he’d probably use to swat a fly away, he ripped your skirt completely.

 You didn’t have the time to react nor say anything, before his large fingers grabbed the thigh highs and tore them down your legs. “So pretty… I should’ve fucking hired you as a secretary, you would have been so much fun to train, wouldn’t you?” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and you realized that this – whatever you had previously hoped or thought – was moving in a direction, that made your hairs stand up. Fuck.

“August, please…” A slap landed on your cheek again, and you groaned at the pain; one more of those, and your jaw would dislocate. “Do not call me that. I am Sir to you. Daddy, if you’re being good.” You whimpered and the tears began flowing freely now, when his strong hands pried your legs open and tore your underwear in half; he wasn’t a patient man, and you had already dragged it out way too much for his liking. He chuckled and his tongue darted out, licking the tears away from your burning cheek. You wanted to recoil from him, but his grip on your throat was a little too tight.

Without warning, he thrusted two thick fingers inside of you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, hoping someone would hear you and help. He began dragging his fingers in and out of you, spitting down on his fingers as they almost left your body to lubricate them. “Scream all you want, darling, nobody comes in here.” Your tears were rolling down your cheeks now, his thick fingers ripping you apart with every thrust. You wanted to hate yourself, your fucking body for slowly warming to him; you felt it, the way you fluttered around his fingers and the ease, he began sliding in and out of you.

“There’s a good, little whore. You’re liking this, aren’t you? Liking being put in your place; just taken however I want to?” he chuckled again and sped up his fingers. You whimpered, your teeth gnashing on your lips to the point, where you could taste blood. His lips found yours, forcefully kissing you and lapping the blood from your lips, while he fucked you relentlessly with his fingers. “I think… Maybe I’m not going to kill you right away, little one. No, I think my friends would love to meet you.” You whimpered at the thought of it – there was so much laced into the words, and you would rather die. “You’re doing so well, just swallowing my fingers with your greedy, little pussy. Jesus, look at you, you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” You didn’t want to like it. You didn’t, but your body was reacting to everything he did and said, and you felt yourself near a high, that terrified you – if he thought you liked this, what else would he do to you? “Don’t think, you fucking whore, don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” He sped up and pressed his thumb roughly against your clit. You didn’t have time to try and stop it.

You came around his fingers with a choked sob of shame, your pussy gushing for him. “Good girl! Look at you, taking orders from me.” He laughed maniacally and pulled his fingers from you, keeping his grip firmly on your throat, while he opened his pants.

“Be good for me, little bird. Knees.” You tried shaking your head, refusing to fucking do anything for him. He groaned in annoyance and pulled you by your throat to the floor, yanking your hair roughly. “Don’t fucking disobey me again.” He said and pulled his cock out from his pants. It was throbbing and the tip was an angry red, already leaking precum. He was big, and you feared that you might actually choke on it. At least you’d have a chance if you bit him. His grip on your hair tightened and forced you to look up at him. “Try to bite me once and I’ll fucking skin you alive.” You swallowed thickly, and you knew the battle was lost even before it started. “Yes, sir.” He grinned. “There’s my good girl.” He lined his cock up with your lips and you slowly opened your mouth, tears still spilling from your eyes at the thought of what was about to happen. His cock slid against your tongue, and he forced himself as deep as he could go, you gagging around his cock. “Fuck, I should’ve done this a long time ago.” You spluttered around him, spit pooling around your lips and slowly dripping from your chin. You tried to pull away from him when he forced himself deeper down your throat. “No. You’ll take what I give you, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.” He said, a little out of breath. “Look up at me.” You did what he asked, and he growled at the sight, his thumb wiping a stray tear away. You gagged and coughed around his hard, thick cock as he pushed it further down, and you lost all ability to breathe.

He didn’t let you adjust but began to fuck your mouth and throat as if you were nothing but a toy to him. He held you in place while he snapped his hips, and you spluttered again, trying to breathe – he laughed deviously. “Little bird, you’re not getting out of this. You’re going to be my little whore, aren’t you? So easy to…” he grunted and buried his cock deeper in your throat. “So easy to get on your knees, you’ve been fucking waiting for it, haven’t you? Wanted to suck my cock dry, like a good little pet?” He picked up the pace and you almost passed out when he swelled a little in your throat. He grunted and pulled out roughly, spitting in your face. “You should be my fucking lap-dog, darling.” He caressed your face in a gesture that was both way too intimate and shot fear into your veins. He pulled you up to your feet, and bent you over the desk, forcing your ass to stick out enough for your back to begin hurting. “Please, sir, you’re hurting me…” You mumbled, trying to see if there was a shred of humanity left in him. His hand landed on your ass roughly, and you yelped at the pain. “Good.” He hit you again. “See, nosy fucking bitches like you need to be punished, do they not?” You heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being pulled from loops and your face went white. “Please, no, I’m begging…” You didn’t finish your sentence. The belt hit you hard, hard enough for you to instantly feel nausea creep up on you, bile at the top of your throat, and you cried out. He just laughed and repeated the process. You lost track of time, how many times the belt had hit you, and you were vaguely aware of the trickle of warmth that ran down form your ass to the back of your thighs. He hummed and wiped the trickle with a finger, putting it in your mouth; you tasted metal. “Look at you, so obedient already. You’ll just let me spank you until you’re bleeding and not say a word to it?” You felt something cold press against your folds. “God, you really are a fucking whore, aren’t you? So stupid, so easy to convince…” You felt the cold thing press into you and you yelped, trying to move away. Your entire body was in pain.

He grabbed you by the throat again, and stopped moving whatever he had in his hand, inside of you, while he wrapped the belt – streaked with red now – around your throat, pulling it tightly. You gasped and choked, and he continued the onslaught of your pussy.

“God, getting fucked by my loaded gun does something to you, doesn’t it?” He mumbled and your eyes widened as he began fucking you hard with the barrel of his gun. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move or even try to as he fucked you with the gun. Your body was reacting to it, growing wetter by the second. “It would be so fucking easy to kill you like this, you know? I could just…” You heard the gun cock. “Press this once and you’d be dead… I could probably still fuck you until you got too cold and stiff for me.” He pulled the belt again, forcing your head back. “Say thank you, sir, for not killing me right now.” You gasped as he loosened the tightness of the belt. “Fuck you.” You spat. He pulled the gun out of you and held it to your temple, his hard cock pressing against your pussy. “No, little bird, fuck you.” You screamed in pain when he entered you in one, fell thrust, filling you to a point, where it hurt. You were barely breathing, your nails had been broken and bled, while you clawed at the desk.

He fucked you as if he didn’t give a shit. He was rough, the gun steady against your face, his cock filling you up and nudging your cervix. “Fuck, you’re so tight, aren’t you? So tight and wet for me, just ready for me to abuse you, huh?” He snapped his hips and buried himself deeper inside of you – the desk scraped against the floor as he rutted hard against you. Your legs were shaking, and you couldn’t think – everything hurt. “Aw, is my poor, little whore sad? You want to cum, little bird? Just cum on my cock, while I have a gun to your head?” You shook your head. You refused. He chuckled. “Alright.” He sped up, and to your relief, he removed the gun from your head. He was groaning behind you, burying his cock deeply in you over and over, and your relief of the gun being gone was shortlived. You felt spit land on your puckered hole, and you wiggled, trying to get away from him, when he pressed the cold, slightly sticky barrel of his gun to your asshole. “Squirm, and it’ll only be worse.” He threatened, his free hand landing on your ass; you felt the blood trickle again and you screamed in pain, as the gun entered you. He was rough. You didn’t have time to think or adjust as he fucked you with his hard cock and let the barrel of the gun slip inside of your ass, moving it in sync with his cock.

Despite your hate and fear, you felt your pussy flutter around him, the familiar, dull ache behind your clit as your orgasm neared – you were fully sobbing now. “Good girl, fuck, you’re going to cum, aren’t you, love?” He sped up and angled his hips, this time shoving the tip of his cock roughly against your cervix. You were screaming in pain, your body trembling. “Cum, whore. Fucking cum, while I fuck you just like this…” he grunted, and you felt his speed falter for a second. “Cum for me, little bird, fucking make a mess out of me.” You couldn’t hold it back, even if you tried.

You exploded around him, the sounds of your wet slick gushing over his cock filling the room. You gasped for air and reprieve, but he was relentless; his cock was spearing you completely and it felt like you were about to split in two, while the fear of him just pulling the trigger for the hell of it, was ever present in your mind.

You sobbed through your orgasm, and when his lips found your shoulder, you had to bite back vomit.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so fucking good…” Everything felt wrong and painful. His speed was faltering, the rhythm leaving him. “So good, taking my cock so well, baby… Oh, I’m going to get so much use out of you.” He grunted. “You want me to fill you? Make you fill of my cum, get your pregnant so you can’t get away from me? Just… Fuck!” he roared as you began to try and claw at him, desperate to get him out of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to make you fucking round with me, darling. Oh, fuck, you need to take it all, like a good little whore…” He fucked you with the gun and his cock so roughly, you thought you were about to die. “Please, please, no… Sir, please…” You begged, but he just laughed and slapped your cheek again. Your jaw rattled.

 He came with a strangled cry, pushing his cock and the gun as deep as they could go. You felt ropes of cum warm you and this time, you didn’t hold back. You threw up over his desk, your eyes searing with tears as he fucked his cum deeply inside of you. You were shaking and crying. “Aren’t you a dirty little thing?” he whispered as he pulled himself and the gun out of you, letting you go. You collapsed, your body sliding down from the desk and landing on the floor; you saw blood several places on the floor and your skin. You found his eyes and he cocked an eyebrow, while he wiped the gun down, almost caressing it.

“Now, we can’t have a mess, can we?” You didn’t answer. “I think you best clean that up, Y/N.” He pointed to the pool of vomit. “And then I think we’re going to have so much fun with you.” “We?” Your voice was hoarse, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper.

He squatted in front of you with that dangerous smile on his lips, lifting your face with the gun under your chin. “If you think I’m done with you…” he chuckled. “I have my Apostles, sweet bird.” You paled and he licked his lips. “After that? We’ll see if we need some stress-relief around.”

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