#stepdaughter!reader

He didn’t arrive with declarations or empty promises. He just… folded himself into the rhythm of the place. Mornings smelled like strong coffee and toast. Evenings came with quiet routines—greasing squeaky hinges, changing lightbulbs, tightening screws on things that rattled. He didn’t ask for praise. He didn’t even announce what he was doing, he just noticed what needed doing and handled it.

And then there was the way he treated you.

Not like a kid. Not like an obligation. He remembered the little things—the way you hated the radio talk show host on the local channel, the way you liked your eggs for breakfast, that sometimes you just needed a minute to get things off your chest when you got home from a bad day.

When your mom would snap too sharply or come home looking to pick a fight, Shane would intervene with a steady voice and an even expression, “hey, cmon now, y’know that ain’t fair.” As if defending you was instinctive.

That alone would’ve been enough to soften you.

Unfortunately, he was also devastatingly handsome in a way that snuck up on you. Nothing flashy. Not even polished. Just broad shoulders and rough, capable hands and a smile that felt earned instead of practiced. His voice—low, drawling, unhurried—had a way of wrapping around words like he was taking care with them, like he knew the effect they had.

From the very beginning, there had been a current between you. Not sparks. Not fireworks. Something slower and more dangerous. A gravity you couldn’t quite explain. Glances that lingered a fraction longer than they should. The way his attention found you in a room without any effort. Inside jokes meant just for you two. A sense that he was always very… aware of you.

And you were aware of him right back.

Which was why you’d done the sensible thing and started dating a man who was aggressively unremarkable.

Evan was… fine. Evan was harmless. Evan was what you were supposed to want. He texted you good morning and good night every day. He showed up when he said he would. He thought romance was consistency and sex was something you completed rather than participated in. His idea of being spontaneous was getting Panda Express last Friday instead of the usual pizza.

You told yourself that was enough. You told yourself that passion had to settle down eventually. This was just part of growing up and you’d get over it.

But there were only so many nights you could lay there staring at the ceiling, your body pursed for a release with nowhere for it to go. Only so many you could sit awake at night thinking about how you felt so lonely despite the man sharing your bed.

That was when you decided to end it. Well, to make him end it. You hated breaking up with people. You hated how the guy would always make you out to be some kind of evil psychopath, all the while leaving out the many ways he fell short leading up to the split. So you’d put that burden on Evan, it was the least he could do.

It didn’t need to be dramatic or cruel, you just wanted him to lose interest. Simple enough, right?

So you built a plan.

Step one: stop being appealing.

No more effort.

No more flirting.

No more carefully chosen little sets with meticulously paired accessories. Oh no, Evan was getting loooooow maintenance. Messy, even.

The main issue you’re facing now is that you don’t own a single thing that would fit that category. This is glaringly clear as your hot-pink tracksuit clad reflection stares back at you from your full body mirror and, damn, does it fit you well. You almost hate to push your fashion sense aside, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This was how you end up standing outside your mom and Shane’s bedroom. The door was ajar and there sat Shane, folding your mom’s laundry, because of course he was folding her laundry. He’s perfect. You bit the inside of your cheek as you knocked on the door frame.

His eyes lifted to meet yours almost immediately, brow lifting in mild surprise. “Hey, darlin’. Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, toooootally great,” you said brightly, forcing a reassuring smile to your lips. “I just need to ask an itty bitty favor. Can I borrow something?”

He set the sweater in his hands down on the comforter, standing from the bed. “‘Course you can. Whatcha need?”

“One of your sweatshirts.”

The pause was subtle—but it was there.

“…Mine? You sure you don’t want one of your mom’s cardigans or something?”

“Noooo, I definitely think I need yours,” you nodded. “The biggest one you have, if possible. Something that looks like it’s been through a war. OH- that police academy one you wore the other day, maybe? With the stains?” You tried to tamp down on the giddiness you were feeling at the thought of how frumpy you’re going look. This was going to be great.

Shane laughed under his breath. “That thing’s gonna swallow you, darlin’.”

“I know, it’s perfect.”

He disappeared into the closet and came back with a hoodie that looked soft and worn and unmistakably his. When he handed it over, your fingers brushed the soft, piling material. He cleared his throat.

“I hate to break it to ya, kid, but that things nowhere near fitting you.” He was clearly very amused with this whole occurrence.

“Exactly, that’s the point.” You tugged it on right there, fabric sliding down your arms, sleeves hiding your hands, hem grazing the hem of your shorts on your thighs. It felt absurd and comfortable and, strangely, a little intimate.

Shane stared.

Not rudely, but openly. Just long enough to tell you something wasn’t lining up in his head.

“And you’re plannin’ on wearin’ that out the house?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Shane knew you well enough by now to have picked up on the fact that you never left the house looking short of perfect.

“Sure am,” you chirped excitedly, unable to help yourself from primping in the mirror against the far wall.

“…Why? You going to some kind of themed party?”

And, for some reason, you didn’t lie.

You laughed first—too fast, too light—like maybe if you said it casually enough it wouldn’t sound insane. “Okay, well—this is going to sound terrible, but I’m kind of trying to get my boyfriend to break up with me.”

That earned you a real laugh—startled, loud, completely unguarded.

“You’re kiddin’.”

“I wish,” you blurted, and then it was like the dam broke and you couldn’t stop the words pouring from your mouth. “He’s just—Shane, he’s so boring. And I feel awful saying that, because he’s technically nice, but it’s the kind of nice where there’s nothing underneath it? Like beige walls. Or unseasoned chicken. And every time we hang out I feel like I’m doing homework instead of… I don’t know, living my life?”

You waved a hand, already spiraling. “And I keep telling myself that this is what being an adult is supposed to be like, right? Stable, predictable, whatever—but I’m just sitting there thinking, is this it? Is this what I’m signing up for forever? Because that feels like a trap.”

You sucked in a breath, face warm now.

“And—oh god—this is where it gets really tragic,” you rushed on. “He’s terrible in bed. Like not even awkward-because-he-cares terrible. Just… bad. Like he thinks effort is optional. Like he pats my hip after like he’s done a good job and I’m lying there staring at the ceiling wondering if I’ll have to fake a headache for the rest of my life.”

Shane turned his head away, coughing into his hand to cover the laugh that bubbled up.

“Alright,” he said, laughing harder despite himself. “That’s enough. Way more than I needed.”

You clamped your mouth shut, mortified, tugging the sweatshirt sleeves over your hands. “Sorry—sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking so much. I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m silly for wanting more.”

“So anyway,” you continued, lighter and matter-of-fact, “I figured if I stopped dressing like myself, he’d finally lose interest and break up with me.”

Shane leaned back against the wall, arms folding, gaze drifting over you again. Slower this time. Warmer. Locked in fully on you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head, “that ain’t how men work.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “it’s not?”

“Nope.” His mouth tilted into a half-smile. “A man loves seein’ his woman in his clothes.”

Your stomach flipped, sharp and sudden.

“And,” he added, casual as could be, “he really hates seein’ her in someone else’s. Makes him territorial.”

“Oh,” you said slowly, glancing down at the sleeves pooling over your hands, “territorial is bad?”

Shane huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still on you. “Sweetheart,” he said, “wearing another man’s clothes doesn’t make you less appealing. It makes a man notice you more.”

You looked back up at him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he replied, voice easy but unmistakably warm, “it makes a guy picture things. Wonder things. Start thinkin’ about you wearin’ his stuff instead. Maybe even start imaging you with nothing on at all.”

Your breath caught—just a little.

“Oh,” you said again, trying for casual and not quite landing it. “So this isn’t reading as ‘unattractive.’”

“No, ma’am,” he said softly. “Not even close.”

You tugged at the cuff again, suddenly very aware of how familiar the fabric felt. “Guess I picked the wrong strategy.”

Shane’s mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Guess you did.”

“Okay, well, I’ll… rethink things, I guess.” You backed away before either of you could say something worse, smile soft but pulse skittering. “Mind if I keep the sweatshirt for the day anyway?”

Shane didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “Be my guest, darlin’.”

Something warm flickered low in your chest. You turned and walked down the hall.

Behind you, Shane exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, voice barely audible—

“Lord help me.”

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he stepped out of bed, groaning and adjusting his hard-on. the wood floor creaking under his feet. he walked out of his room and toward yours. shaking his head, he tried convincing himself he was just ‘checking on you’. truth was, he hoped you were up, maybe even waiting for him. he pushed your already cracked door open even wider and stepped in. the breeze from your window hitting his face immediately. he looked over to you and his jaw dropped like a guillotine.

you were sprawled out like a baby, legs wide open. rafe cursed under his breath, realizing your pjs only consisted of pink lace panties and a matching tank top with no bra underneath. he could make out your hardened nipples in the dim moonlight peeking through your sheer curtains. he groaned and threw his head back, palming himself through his shorts.

he looked down at the prominent tent in his tightened pants and looked back to you. you, dead asleep, couldn’t resist or stop him, right? and you just looked so angelic as your lashes fluttered every 30 seconds and your chest slowly moved up and down. sleeping peacefully, and so undisturbed.

he took a deep breath before walking closer towards your bed. as if he was walking down a diving board, his shoulders shivered as he was about to jump into something he couldn’t escape.

he reached the foot of your bed and bent down slowly, tracing his fingers along your soft, warm thigh. he kissed up your thigh and carefully climbed on the bed. as it dipped below his weight, he pushed your thin, lacey panties aside, practically groaning at the sight of your already glistening cunt. you whimpered sleepily and turned ur head and body, repositioning your hips as he toyed with your clit.

he pushed his reddened cock out of his shorts and groaned almost a bit too loudly. he pumped it a few times before sliding it through your folds. he bit his lip, holding back any noises that could wake you up. his tip throbbed, covered in your wetness and he realized he couldn’t take it anymore. “needa be inside you..” he whispered, pushing into you slowly. a satisfied grin spread across his face as you moaned out.

you threw your head back and forth, whimpering as you stirred from your sleep. rafe was too far gone, already pussy-drunk from his poor, sleepy stepdaughter. as your eyes slowly opened, he slowed his thrusts, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.

you let out confused and terrified whimpers as you didn’t realize who it was on top of you. still half asleep, stomach in knots, brain all fuzzy. he noticed your worried expression and kissed your forehead, moving your hair out of your face. “shh, baby...just a bit more, i’m almost there. just a little longer.” he whispered to you.

you rub your eyes, “r-rafe?..” you croak out a moan as you throw your head back. he speeds up the pace, causing your hands to fly to his biceps, gripping and scratching them.

“you little slut, you like this don’t you? gettin’ fucked by your stepdad. pussy’s too good, gotta do this again, yea?” you could barely make out what he was saying, almost brain dead from the way he was fucking you. all that’s coming out of your mouth is pornographic moans and little ‘mhm’s’, agreeing with his dirty, crude words.

you felt the knot in your stomach get so tight, you thought you were going to burst. “oh fuck, please! need to cum, daddy! please, just fuckin’-… make me cum..” you were clawing his back by now, clenching around his cock like he was gonna pull out any second. “go ahead bunny, cum on daddy’s cock.. m‘gonna fill you right up.”

that’s all you needed before you let go, creaming and squirting all over his cock. he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling as he sped up to an inhumane pace. he groaned out, kissing and biting your neck as he came inside you. pushing deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix as he painted your warm walls white.

your hand reached up to his hair, raking your hands through it. he lifted his head, looking into your hazy eyes. “wanted u for so long..” you whispered. “i know, hun. let’s talk about it in the morning, yeah?” he said, smiling slightly as you nodded. you both got comfortable and fell asleep in each other’s arms, completely and utterly satisfied.

“Man if I was in that house I would be taking advantage. She’s just there begging for it with these videos.” Rafe slows down his pace as he hears Topper talk. “Bet she’s imagining him every time she says daddy. Probably hopes he’ll hear her and do something about it.” Kelce laughs agreeing with his friend. Rafe creeps up behind them looking at the phone they are looking at. What he wasn’t prepared to see was his little step-daughter naked on the screen as she sinks down a huge dildo. His brain short-circuits as he watches you bounce up and down. How your pussy perfectly swallows the dildo with ease. Shit. “What the fuck are the two of you watching?”

The phone clatter ons the tiled floor causing the edges of it to crack. “Fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of us.” Topper picks up his phone inspecting it as Kelce clenches his heart. “Are you fucking sexting my step-daughter?” He stalks forward making his friend take a step back. Topper looks at Kelce for help but the other man just gets up and backs out of the room. “No no. It’s her only fans, she makes these videos and posts them on the internet.” Rafe snatches the phone from his hand and looks through it. He can clearly see Topper was on a website and sure enough there's videos of you. Without thinking he sends the website page to himself and tosses the phone back at his friend.

“Delete that account and if you look or talk about her again I’ll kill you.” Rafe rushes to his truck and sits in the front seat with his phone in his hands. Pulling up the website he creates an account and subscribes to you. “Am I really about to do this?” He mumbles to himself before clicking on the first video. There you are in one of his work shirts playing with your pretty pussy. You tease your clit as you smile into the camera giving it a wink as you sink your fingers in. “Fuck daddy you feel so good.” His dick swells in his pants making it uncomfortable as he keeps scrolling. Video after video there you were fucking yourself all while crying out the word daddy.

Having enough he throws the phone on the passenger seat and races home. All he needs to do is get it out of his system. He’ll watch your videos and fuck his fist until the idea of you is out of his mind. Screw Topper for watching that video. Of course he would find your only fans and enjoy your videos. The fact that Topper, his friend, got to see you like this pisses him off. That should have been saved for him. He should have seen you taking each dildo, watching as you slowly work your way to something that stretches you out for him. But the thing that infuriates him is that you are posting this for others to see. Thankfully every video is solo so he didn’t have to see you fucking someone else.

He slams his truck into park and practically runs into the house. It wasn’t until he was passing your room that the plans divot. Your bedroom door is wide open displaying as you lay on your back with your hand shoved in your panties. You have headphones in so you probably didn’t hear him and your eyes are closed so you can’t see him. He should walk into his room and jerk off to the image of this. Create some scenario where you get on your knees and suck him off. But he’s not that type of man. No he’s the type to walk into your room, lock the door, and climb on your bed next to you. Your eyes snap open at the shift of weight. “Rafe oh my god.” The clunky headphones fall on the bed and he can hear a male's voice.

“Who are you talking to?”The corners of your eyes crinkle. “No I.” You close your mouth and try to move to the edge. He only takes that as a sign to move closer, his hand finding your thigh. “Who is it?” His grip tightens and he pulls you to him. The bed sheets ruffle underneath you as you try to make space. “It’s an audiobook.” Now that was new. Picking up the headphones he takes a listen. A low chuckle comes from him from what he hears causes you to feel embarrassed. “Is that what you think of when you fuck yourself for those videos?” Your eyes widen even more but something in the way he looks at you makes you bold.

“No, I think about you. Wishing you would finally fuck me the way I want.” A huge smile spreads across his face. Now on his hands and knees, Rafe climbs over you. Your back lands on the mattress as his body hovers, barely touching you but enough to drive you insane. “Should’ve just found me baby. Would’ve shown you what a real man feels like.” He emphasizes the point by grinding his hard dick on your thigh. Instinctively your thighs open to welcome him in. You love the way his jeans feel rubbing against your panties. The ridge of the zipper grazes your clit with the slow rocks of his hips. Blue eyes are trained on yours waiting for you to say something.

“Show me.” The words are softer than you intended. “Show me, please Rafe.” Leaning back he watches you breathing heavily. His right pointer finger trails a path from the base of your throat all the way down to the hem of your lace pink panties. He snaps the band, marveling at the way you shut your eyes in pleasure. Allowing him to do whatever he wants. He gets up from the bed ripping the panties off of you in the process. “Why don’t you show me how you think about me? Go fuck yourself on one of your dildo’s.” Your eyes flash brightly at the idea. 

When you first started posting you loved all the comments you would get. Seeing how much someone wanted you turned you on. But the thought of Rafe watching you makes you the horniest you’ve ever been. While also making you super nervous. He makes his way to the end of the bed. Fingers wrap around your ankles pulling you to the edge of the bed, forcing you off and to your dresser.

How does he know where your dildo’s are?

He sits down as you grab your favorite one. It’s long but mostly girthy so it stretches you out just the way you like it. The suction cup grips the floor making a noise when you get it in place. Next you grab a bottle of lube. You squirt some on the tip and spread it making sure to make eye contact with him. Your eyes glaze over watching as he pulls his pants down and palms his cock. Shit. Just by looking at him you can tell he’s going to feel amazing. It’s a good thing you picked this dildo since Rafe is like the perfect mirror image of it. There’s a small twitch in his eye almost making you flutter. “Where’d you get that?” You sink down on it, enjoying how it fills you with a delicious burn.

“Was mailed to me at school. A gift I guess.” You don’t really care who sent it. All you know is that it’s the best dick you’ve gotten and that includes real life. Everything about it drives you crazy, especially the large vein going from the tip to base. It feels so good when it rubs against your g-spot. Slowly you bounce on it, your tits bouncing along with you. There’s a drop of precum that falls from his tip. You lick your lips wishing you had him in your mouth. Your heart rate picks up when he stands and walks over to you. This is the moment where he makes you suck him off. Well that was what you were hoping for. What you didn’t expect was for him to pull up by your hair and drag you to the bed. 

He shoves you face first over the edge and gets right behind you. The tip of his dicks swipes up and down slicking himself up with your juices. “Wanna hear a secret?” He’s teasing your entrance with his tip, barely pushing it in before pulling back. You whine out a what, locking your ankles around his back so he can’t fully leave. “You’ve been fucking yourself with a mold of me.” A while back Topper came up with the great idea of Rafe making a mold of his dick for your mom. He didn’t want to do it but his friend had convinced him it would benefit their sex life. Which at that point and still is none existent. Topper handled everything so now Rafe gets why your mom never said anything. He just thought she didn’t care and he wasn’t going to fight over something stupid.

“What!” You scream as he shoves fully inside you. You feel full, the same fullness you just had when you straddle your dildo. Oh fuck he was right. “Fucking Topper must have thought it was funny.” He starts thrusting furiously, spearing into your g-spot with each thrust. “He convinced me to make one of those molds. Didn’t know he sent it to you… got you nice and ready for me though. Might have to thank him.” Your ass bounces as his thrusts increase in pace. There’s a glaze film over his eyes as he looks down at you. A glob of spit falls directly where he enters you. A loud slap echoes the room followed by a loud moan from you.

His hand rubs the bright red handprint forming on the globe of your ass. “Finally got the real thing and can’t even speak.” His right arm lifts up to swat your ass again in the same spot. “Oh god.” A deep laugh comes from his chest, his fingers pulling at the ends of your hair. Tsking, he pulls a bit harder. “That’s not what you usually say.” He grips your hair at your scalp pulling you up-forcing his phone camera in your face. “Come on, princess, say what we both want to hear.” Burning liquid circles your veins as you orgasim peaks and you scream out. “DADDY.” A hard thrust praises you. “Daddy just like that. Please cum I want to feel you.” His grip on your hair shifts to your neck as he records your face. 

“Yeah? Wanna feel your daddy fill you up?” Rafe leans back pushing you back to have your face shoved in the sheets. The phone pans over to where he is essentially destroying your pussy. “Please daddy, cum in me please.” His nails dig into your back as he holds you down so he can fill you up. Slowly his hips come to a halt making sure to keep you plugged up. Shifting back, he adjusts the camera to catch the way his cum drips out of you. His thumb catches some, smearing it on your clit before shoving the finger back in you. Rafe pulls back, stopping the video and sucking his thumb in his mouth.

You watch him over your shoulder hoping he’ll do something else. Just then the front door slams. “I’m making chili tonight!” Your mom yells as she makes her way through the house. She talks to herself as you turn to face Rafe, your stepdad who just fucked the shit out of you. There’s a big smile on his face and he starts to back away. He sends you a wink right before he leaves you in your room wondering how you can act normal around him again. A few hours later you’re scrolling on tik tok when you get a notification. Looking you see it’s from Rafe and something flutters inside you. There’s a video with you at the forefront of it all.

Go on and post that baby. Want your followers to see how well your daddy treats you.

You never thought of yourself as a very creative or good student. You weren’t a terrible student or anything, you just never did more than the bare minimum. But this school year you had the opportunity to join the creative arts and writing club. You didn’t feel like you were really all that good but the professor in your creative writing class urged you to join. He featured one of your poems as part of a student artist awareness week and so you figured why not? If he liked your little poems that much then may it could be fun. Maybe he was right.

And then, by some odd stroke of luck, you won a competition and you were going to be part of an awards ceremony with other young creatives like yourself. It still felt weird to say that you were an artist of any kind or to accept the fact that you were creative and good at writing poems. It felt like a fluke. But your professor was adamant that you were worthy.

Your mom and Harry were coming into town to watch the ceremony and then to take you out to dinner afterward. There was also going to be an outing later for those who wanted to join. Some drinks and fun at the local bar which had been rented out for the group.

You were wearing a cute dress and felt pretty special at the ceremony. You’d never been that good at anything before so this was exciting for you. When you greeted your mom and Harry you hugged them both before joining the group of artists at the front while your mom and Harry sat down in the fold-out chairs set up on the lawn in the courtyard at the university.

Professor Jensen handed you your award after you went up to receive it and he gave you a nice squeeze and told you how proud he was before you walked off to find your seat next to your Mom. You were happy. Truly pleased with yourself.

When the ceremony was over you brought your mom and Harry to meet Professor Jensen. It was the first time you’d really gotten to know a teacher so well. You felt like he was your mentor in a way.

“It’s so nice to meet you both. Y/n has a natural talent that has only sharpened since she started taking our creative writing course,” he looked at you with a large grin. Of course, you were already beaming so you smiled back and then looked at Harry. And that’s when you realized it. Harry was not actually smiling. He was faking being happy. You could tell because you knew Harry very very well. All of his intricacies and quirks. The moods he’d have (good or bad). And this… well, you’d seen him fake a smile a time or two.

Before heading away to dinner Mr. Jensen pulled you to the side and congratulated you again, “Oh! And you’re coming to Poly’s Pub after right? We’ll see you there?”

You nodded, “Yes. Wouldn’t miss it!”

Mr. Jensen pulled you in for another hug before you turned to catch up with your mom and Harry who had been watching the exchange between you and the professor.

Dinner was at one of your favorite spots. Your mom asked you so many questions and gushed over you. But as happy as you were you couldn’t shake the way Harry was acting. He was pretending to be happy and proud. It was fake. He was pissed. There was some reason he was not happy and you couldn’t really figure out why.

“Will you two come with me after this to go to the pub? It’ll be all of the writers and artists. A few of the professors booked the bar for us to have some fun tonight.”

“Will your professor be there? The man who handed out the certificates?” Harry asked.

You slowly nodded and squinted at him, realizing what was going on, “Yes. He will.”

Now, it was true, Professor Jensen was an attractive man. The girls loved the professor. He was jovial and smart, and artistic and handsome. He was in his mid-forties but he acted younger and he was in good shape and he was charming. So yeah, you saw the appeal. And now you realized Harry was jealous. To you, though, it hadn’t really crossed your mind to swoon over the professor. He was a good teacher. And you got along with him well. Everyone did.

“Oh, I don’t know honey. We don’t want to be a bore. And we’ve got to drive all the way back home so… What do you think, Har?” Your mom answered as she looked at Harry.

“I think we should go. Why not? We haven’t got anything going on tomorrow? Have we?”

Your mom pursed her lips, “No. I guess not. We’d need to get a hotel or something…”

“I’m sure Y/n would be okay if we stayed at her dorm. She’s got that pull-out futon we gave her right?” Harry raised a brow as he looked at you.

Your mom looked at you. You hadn’t planned on any of this. And you supposed you didn’t mind too much but you hated that your mom and Harry would be sleeping in your dorm room just feet away from you. Not that Harry hadn’t stayed over before, but never with your mom. But what could you say?

“Uh… yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”

.           .           .

When you arrived at Poly’s many of your peers were already there. The three of you went to the bar and ordered beers before heading toward where the group was standing around.

Harry pulled at your elbow and whispered in your ear, “So is this what’s had you so busy these last few weeks? Couldn’t be bothered to make it home?”

You looked at Harry and frowned. He was really pushing it. You had been busy with school and part of that was the new club you’d joined but you were finally finding something of your own. You didn’t have anything you could call your own. Not even Harry was yours.

“Yes. It is. Is that a problem?”

Your mom greeted the professor and pulled you with her, saying something to Mr. Jensen that you weren’t sure of as you were too busy fuming at your stepdad.

It was hard to ignore what was going on as the night involved more drinks and laughs. You tried to push it down but Harry’s attitude was making you nervous. You saw him talking to the professor and then looking back at you at one point so you decided to join them both. Maybe you were too many drinks in but you weren’t going to stand there and let Harry make you feel bad for anything because you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You walked up to the side of Mr. Jensen and nudged him with your shoulder as you looked up at the man, “This is a great little get-together. We should do more of these!” You spoke loudly over the music and then looked at Harry who had a small devious smirk on his face.

“Yeah maybe. I could use a co-host for things like this you know,” he raised his brows at you as he spoke to indicate using your help at some point.

“That would be great!!”

Your mom joined the three of you and began to chat with the professor when Harry pulled you away into the hall and dragged you into one of the single bathrooms. His grip on your arm pinched as he closed the door and locked it behind you.

He caged you in, putting his arms on either side of your shoulders, “Tell me what’s going on with him.”

You laughed and shook your head. The truth was nothing was going on. He was a good teacher and mentor. You found him attractive but you weren’t attracted to him. And Harry was jealous, which you had always known about him, “Absolutely nothing is going on. You need to get a grip.”

Harry shook his head as he kept his sharp eyes on yours, “You haven’t been home in three weeks.”

“I’m in college.”

Harry sighed and backed away – moving himself toward the sink and leaning over the porcelain as he looked down, “I’m trying to be understanding and patient with you. I know you’re in college. I know you’re proud of this accomplishment,” he turned to look at you, “and so am I. You’re really good.”

You smiled, “Yeah? You think I’m good?”

Harry pushed himself from the sink and walked across the room to you, grasping the back of your neck and pressing his mouth over yours. His free hand held at your hip and his tongue slid against yours.

“You’re the best. My very good girl.”

You grinned and bit your lip as you leaned your forehead into his, “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

He closed his eyes and pushed his nose into yours before capturing your lips with his again.

Harry pulled back and moved his arms to your shoulders and rubbed, “I’m trying not to be jealous. I’m sorry.”

You blinked your eyes and stared at Harry. He was sorry? That was a first, “I missed you so much. You never have a reason to feel jealous. I’m yours, Daddy,” you smirked at him and he licked his lips before the right side of his mouth quirked up in a grin.

“I missed you a lot too, baby,” he moved his hand up to your jaw and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

It happened so fast. There was no time to lose and you knew you wouldn’t get another chance with your mom in your room later on. Your bottom was perched on the cool porcelain sink, legs spread, as Harry spit over your pussy, his fingers pulling at your thong for his access.

You were tugging at his hard cock and angling yourself toward him, “Fuck me, Daddy.”

Harry groaned at your words as he pushed his thick crown to your entrance and spit down over you again, needing the lube since you had no time to waste in getting nice and wet for him.

He pressed his cock in, the tight fit making you both moan. You kept yourself angled for him to slip in and out as you rubbed your clit and kept your eyes on his, “I need you. I missed you.”

Harry’s long cock was slowly working you up and making you wetter by the second – the sound of him plunging in was evidence of your increasing wetness.

“You’re mine, baby. Always,” he panted his words as he fucked into you hard.

You could tell he would come fast. You wondered how long he’d gone without sex. You didn’t want to think of him with your mom but you knew that they were married. But somehow, the idea that he hadn’t had sex since you left made you feel like you needed to take care of him, “Come inside of me, Daddy. Give me all your come. I need it. Want to feel you inside of me all night.”

Harry gritted his teeth and leaned one hand on the mirror behind you and his other he grasped the front of your neck as he kissed your mouth, his hips jerking into you, your body jolting at each thrust.

“Need you to come on Daddy’s cock first. Want to feel you fall apart then I’m gonna give you my load.”

You hastened your fingers and Harry squeezed the sides of your neck as you closed your eyes at the feel of him thick and warm inside of you, moving through your walls quickly and punching into your guts.

You gasped and panted quietly, knowing you needed to keep the noise to a minimum. The pounding of his body into yours on the sink was loud enough as it was.

“Fffuck! Please… come. Need to make you feel good. Want you to remember who you belong to…” Harry’s deep voice whispered as he began to lose rhythm. His sloppy thrusts were only egging you on.

You nodded and whined as your fingers slipped over your clit and your mouth dropped open. You pulsed and clenched over him as your orgasm peaked and Harry let out a loud moan as he finally released into you, no longer able to stop himself from orgasming when he felt your cunt squeezing him.

You held onto Harry with both hands once your clit was too sensitive to keep rubbing as he slowly thrust in and out, his come pouring into you, his chest heaving.

When he finally stilled he pushed his forehead to yours, “Holy fuck. I needed that, baby. Needed you.”

Your heart lurched. Your situation was fucked up. Vile. You were evil. So was Harry but you were in love. When he said things like he needed you it made you want to take him and run off somewhere no one would ever find you. Somewhere you two could be together without consequences. You imagined another life with him. One where your mom was married to someone else and you’d met him at one of his shows at some dingy bar and you could love him freely and have his babies…

“Let’s get back out there, Y/n. Sorry to rush. Don’t want to get caught,” he smoothed his hand down your thigh and kissed you as he helped you off the sink.

Dirty. Doomed.

And just like you were used to you both got away with something you shouldn’t have as you joined your mom for another drink at the bar. Hearts still pounding, muscles still reeling from use.

You looked around to see a couple of friends and your professor laughing and then over to Harry who was sitting on the other side of your mom with a small smile on his face as he looked down into his glass of whisky.

What a day it had been.

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You knew you shouldn't have spent the extra hour with your boyfriend, Luke. You knew how angry Dean would be when you got home. But time slipped away from your mind and you ended up falling asleep.

You wanted so badly to blame him for not waking you up. You had reminded Luke so many times prior to tonight that it was extremely important for you to be home at a certain time, eighteen years of age or not. You could never tell him what would happen if you stayed out later. To add to the anxiety of coming home late, you left Luke's house with the both of you upset- which you hated.

As much as you wanted to fix things with Luke, he was the least of your worries right now. As you walked up to your dimly lit porch, you peered through the windows. The lights seemed to be out inside- that was a good sign for you.

You did your best to be quiet as you unlocked the front door with your key, opening it slowly so that it wouldn't creak. If Dean really was asleep like you hoped he was, you needed to be as quiet as possible as not to wake him.

Somehow you made it through the living room with the uneven floorboards and all the way until the stairs. Taking a deep breath, you mapped your walk up in your mind before taking the first step. It went by just fine. And then the second. And the third. Until you reached the tenth, which always gave you trouble no matter how hard you tried.

The rest of the five stairs were noisy too, so you skipped every other one. You could practically hear your heart beating out of your chest and your face felt flushed, you were so undeniably nervous that you had woken up Dean and you hadn't even made all that much noise.

Resting for a minute or so at the top of the stairs before continuing on, you tried your best to come up with an excuse as to why you were out so late. There was no sign of Dean being awake, but you wanted to have a game plan just in case. You sighed before continuing your trek, tiptoeing your way to your room. The door was closed as it always was, but when you went to turn the knob it wouldn't budge.

Cursing at yourself, you played with the knob as quietly as you could, feeling dumber with each passing second for locking yourself out of your own room. The good news was, Dean probably thought you were asleep all this time- you always went to sleep with your door locked.

"Found the key, by the way," A low, gruff voice made your heart race faster, and you found yourself closing your eyes to escape reality. You were caught.

"What key?" You feigned ignorance, slowly turning around to meet green and bloodshot eyes staring in your direction.

"Your room key. I'll keep it for safety measures. What if there was a fire or something?" Dean asked rhetorically, dangling the key from his fingers.

"Yeah, that's, um, that's a good idea," You gave him a small smile to which he furrowed his eyebrows at.

"Thought it might be good for teaching you a lesson too," Dean shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You stayed silent, he didn't like when you protested. "I don't have a lot of rules, Y/N. In fact, I might be too lenient with you, but you manage to break every single one of them."

"I'm sorry, Dean," You responded with your head down, too scared to look back up at him as you felt the vibrations of his feet hitting the floor come closer.

"What rules did you break tonight?" He asked, wanting to admit your mistake.

"I stayed out too late," You said quietly and he stopped just to where you could see his feet.

"And?" He pestered on and you shook your head.

"Nothing else, that's all," You looked up to him as he slowly lifted your chin with your fingers, his calloused hand stayed in place.

"Who were you out with?" Dean quirked an eyebrow up at you and you felt as your eyes widened, there was no way he knew.

"My friend, Natalie," You managed to muster out but he just shook his head in return.

"You're lying to me and I don't very much appreciate liars," He growled lowly, his grip on your chin getting a little tighter.

"I'm not lying," You answered softly before he shoved you forward and your back hit the door.

"Really?" He chuckled in disbelief, sucking in his cheek before continuing on. "Word on the street is that you have a new boyfriend."

You stayed silent. You didn't know what to say. You wanted to ask so many questions about how he knew. Who told him?

"I also learned that you've been dating him for quite some time, isn't that right?" Dean asked and you nodded your head softly, watching as the vein in his forehead popped out. "How long, sweetheart?"

"Three months," You said quietly, trying your best to look down in shame.

"Just like your fucking mother," Dean grit out angrily, pushing your head so that is slammed against the wooden door. You winced out in pain, feeling the throb of the impact immediately after and the tears start flooding your eyes. "Lying, cheating skanks. Both of you."

The beer in his breath made you grimace as you felt the first tear of many shed from your right eye. There were a million things running through your mind, like a plan to escape, but you knew none of it would be of any use. Dean was going to get his way no matter how hard you tried.

"Why do I feel like I have to keep teaching you lessons, hmm? You didn't learn from last time, little girl?" Dean stepped forward so that your bodies were only a few inches apart.

"I did," You nodded your head through the tears, hoping that he would believe you.

"Obviously, you didn't. Just caught you sneaking in for fuck's sake," He growled, grabbing your hand with his free one. "Knew you needed a real daddy since the first day I met you. What a good girl you could have been growing up with me."

Your eyes closed all on their own as he guided your hand to his jean covered crotch, hating the way that his breath hitched when he pressed you against him. You didn't know if it happened because you were so used to it by now, but you hated the way you felt your core heat up just by his touch. You felt a sense of shame for even getting remotely aroused by the way Dean treated you.

"Have you fucked your boyfriend?" Dean pressed his body against yours, resting his forehead against the door so that his lips were right next to your ear.

"No," You told him, feeling the way your hand continue to press into him on its own accord.

"I don't think I believe you," Dean said almost gently, but he didn't seem upset.

"I promise," You reassured him quietly and he lifted his head from resting on the door.

"Yeah?" Dean questioned and you nodded your head, looking into his eyes as they searched yours.

Then, Dean did something that he didn't do often. He leaned his head down and pressed his lips against yours, kissing firmly but slowly. You weren't prepared to kiss him, he usually wasn't this gentle, so it took you a few seconds to adjust to what he wanted. Soon enough, you slightly parted your lips to accommodate his moving ones, matching the pace that he set.

Dean's hands moved yours so that your arms were resting on his shoulders and he pressed his entire body against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss, and continued to take you by surprise. Dean had never been this tender with you before.

You had never felt this wanted by him in all of your time spent together. A part of you felt like he was setting up a trap, making you vulnerable to him so that he could take advantage of you. The other part liked the change in pace. As twisted as it was, you liked that he wanted to kiss you like this. For once, it felt like he actually might love you.

Dean pulled back from the kiss, making you chase his lips, which took you by surprise. You waited a few seconds for him to begin to start being rough, but he just rested his forehead against you and took a few deep breaths.

"I missed you," Dean admitted in a small breath and you swallowed down your nerves.

You didn't know what had gotten into him tonight. You didn't understand how someone who had hurt you so badly in the past could suddenly switch courses and make you feel like the only girl in the world. You also couldn't comprehend how easily you fell for his gentle touch or how you felt your heart melt with his sweet words.

Even after all of this time feeling bad for yourself, wishing that your life wasn't the way that it was, you actually felt bad for him tonight. Dean was hurting and you didn't know why, you knew he didn't deserve your sympathy but it felt kind of reassuring after all of the pain he'd put you through. It felt nice to know that he was hurting as much as you were.

"I said, I missed you," Dean reminded you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I know," You answered quietly and he sighed, continuing to hug your waist.

"You didn't say it back," He didn't seem mad like he normally would, he seemed upset, but you weren't going to lie to him and say that you missed him too. You weren't even sure that the Dean you knew was still in there. "You don't have to."

It was your time to sigh as relief flooded your veins. You didn't want to upset him further but you knew lying to him would only upset you more later in the night when all of the shame and guilt dawned upon you. It was bad enough that you were actually kissing your stepfather back.

"I, uh, I'm sorry," Dean lifted his forehead from yours, looking into your wide eyes. "I know I haven't been the best Dad, that I treated you like crap, all the works. You just-"

Dean sighed as you tried to make sure that your ears were still working. After the past few years of constant trauma and abuse, you couldn't believe that he was apologizing to you. Especially because you knew that the next time you fucked up, or went against his rules, he'd be treating you like shit again.

"You remind me of her," Dean admitted and you felt yourself cringe internally.

He didn't even have to say her name for you to think of your mother, the one who brought this man into your house and ignored all of the red flags. The one who hurt you the most by devaluing all of your feelings towards Dean and leaving you alone with him for nights on end. Most of the time, you blamed her more than you blamed Dean.

"But I don't think I love her anymore, she never loved me," He confessed and you felt sick to your stomach.

"Why are you telling me this?" You felt your emotions twist and turn inside of you, a few teardrops spilling from your eyes.

Whatever hope you had about Dean becoming a better man, loving you as he should, felt spoiled. You felt disgusted that you hadn't put the pieces together. He was never angry with you all of those times he hurt you, he was angry with her. Worst of all, he wasn't being gentle tonight because he wanted to make you feel good, he was being gentle because he wanted to relive his past with your mother.

"I want to start a new life," Dean's hands came up and were placed softly on your cheeks. "New town. New people. Hell, maybe even a new state. I can't stay here anymore." You nodded your head as he licked his lips, keeping his tone quiet. "And I want you to come with me."

You didn't know what to say. You could practically hear Dean's heart rate fasten like he was excited. This was his big plan all along, make you feel like you love him, and then convince you to move away with him like nothing had happened.

"I can't. I-I have school and friends and-" You began to explain but he placed a finger over your lips, shaking his head side to side.

"We can figure that all out, but let's leave together. Tonight. Let's just leave." He professed and you couldn't stop yourself from shedding a few more tears.

"I can't," You choked out and he quirked his head to the side, looking confused.

"Why not?" He asked you, but you could never tell him how you really felt- even if deep down he already knew.

Moving away with Dean would just mean more pain. The second he sobers up from his soppy state, he's just going to remember how shitty of a person your mother was to him. Which, in turn, would justify him in his mind to take it out on you. The cycle would continue on as it was, except you'd be in a new location with absolutely no support system.

"I'm sorry," You sobbed, too scared to say what was on your mind, and you looked down to the ground. You didn't know what to tell him, but you had a feeling that anything remotely negative would make him aggressive.

"It's alright," You heard Dean sniffle just above you, causing you to look back up at him.

By the sniffle and extra emotions tonight, you fully expected to see him cry for the first time in front of you. And he was crying, real tears, but by the way his face contorted you could feel the rage set in.

"No, it's alright. That's fine. Let's just stay here, hmm?" Dean pressed his body into yours harder, making you whimper.

"I'm sorry," You repeated and you didn't feel the sting of his hand against your cheeks until a few seconds later, making the tears pour uncontrollably.

"Shut it," Dean growled and you bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying harder. "You want things to stay the way they are? Fine, be my guest."

Dean quickly reached up and wrapped a hand around your neck, squeezing tightly, which caused your hands to go up to grab his wrist and relieve some pressure. With his free hand, he reached between both of your bodies and began to roughly undo your jeans button, making you squirm within his touch.

Once the button was undone on your jeans, Dean reached up and tugged at the neckline of your favorite shirt, pulling until you heard it rip and felt your skin prickle up due to the cold air. You kept one of your hands around his wrist, choking with the lack of airflow, and used the other to push against his torso with all of your might.

"Stop fighting. This is the way you wanted it," Dean grunted, keeping his body as tightly against you as possible as his free hand reached around to unclasp your bra.

"Stop," You managed to muster out, knowing that it wouldn't help much, and he chuckled at your struggle.

"You wanted this, baby, remember?" Dean continued chuckling in a pant as you continued to fight him off as best you could. "Bet you want to stay for that little boyfriend of yours, hmm?"

You shook your head from side to side as he quirked an eyebrow up at you like he was amused.

"Bet he thinks you're so sweet, so innocent. Probably why he's with you, to take away your purity," Dean guessed and you continued to shake your head 'no', feeling like every vein in your face was popping out. "Does he know what your daddy does to you?" Dean questioned, roughly shoving his hand down your pants and into your panties.

You closed your eyes with a small moan as his fingers easily slipped through your wet slit, and Dean seemed to be surprised as he looked back up at you.

"That's new," Dean commented with a small smirk, but you closed your eyes again as you felt the shame flood your veins. "Sweetheart, you're actually turned on. Usually takes me five minutes to get inside you, don't think that'll be a problem tonight." He snickered.

"Fuck you," You spit out as soon as he relieved some of the pressure from your neck. You never spoke back like that but it fled from your mouth before you could think about what you were saying.

"What was it then?" Dean smirked amusedly, letting go of your neck and opting to hold your chin instead. "You like when Daddy's sweet to you? When he kisses you?" He pulled his hand out of your panties, wiping your juices off of his fingers and onto your lower stomach.

You stared hard at him as you didn't say anything, so indescribably angry with both him and yourself for your arousal. How could you be so stupid as to think he actually wanted you? He'd broken you before, but tonight felt far worse.

"Daddy can be sweet if you're a good girl." He leaned in and whispered in your ear, you felt your stomach turn as you felt his lips on your neck leaving sloppy, wet kisses.

You winced in pain when he sucked your skin in and bit down harshly on your neck, making you jolt up and push against him.

"But daddy is still really mad at mommy and... she's not here," Dean pulled back and your hand went up to press against your throbbing neck. "That's for your boyfriend, sweetheart. It's not nice to pretend to be innocent when I guarantee all he's thinking about is fucking you until you can't walk."

"You're disgusting," You spat up at him, to which he just chuckled.

"If I'm disgusting, why are you so wet?" He questioned in a smirk, putting his hand down your pants again. Your thighs clamped around his hand as a way to deter him from touching you, but it only forced his fingers closer to your tight hole. "I think you like it when daddy touches you."

You choked on a moan and stood on your tippy-toes as he easily slid a finger inside of you, his thick finger flicking itself and hitting your soft spot. You pushed your ass as far away from him as possible but he followed, and you found yourself gripping onto his shoulders for support as he continued to smirk at you.

Dean pulled his finger out of your soaking cunt, let go of his grip on your chin, and roughly shoved your jeans, along with your panties, down your legs. He didn't attempt to take them completely off before grabbing you by the hair, pulling you forward, coming up from behind you, and forcing you to walk forward.

"Know where we're going, sweetheart?" Dean questioned, leaving you no time to answer. "I think it's time you got fucked in daddy's big bed." The very thought made you shudder, knowing all of your mother's stuff was still in there- just a reminder of how you got yourself in this situation.

With a sudden surge of confidence, your elbow came up and back down, jabbing him harshly in his stomach. He let go of his grip on you momentarily, groaning in pain, as your feet began to take off on their own.

You didn't look back as you felt your heart pound, it's not like you could have seen well through the tears anyway. Your first destination was the stairs and you held onto the railing in the hallway for support and to boost you forward, but before you knew it, his heavy footsteps were coming in hot behind you.

"You little bitch!" Dean yelled out from behind you and you felt an immense amount of pain as he nearly tackled you to the ground, wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly that you could barely breathe. "You can't fucking listen, can you?"

You cried out as Dean kicked the back of your knees, causing you to kneel, and you began to feel completely defeated. Your stomach hit the floor as he followed, pressing all of his body weight on top of you.

"You don't want to go to daddy's bed? Fine. I'll just have to take you right fucking here." Dean grunted, struggling to use his knees to spread your legs apart.

You attempted to push yourself up with your hands but with Dean's body on top of yours, it was no use. Dean pulled your hair, making your neck crane in an uncomfortable way, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle being undone.

"Please, Dean," You begged, but he just grunted in return. You didn't have to turn around to tell that he didn't shove his jeans down or take his boxers off as he impatiently fished himself out.

Before you could even begin to think of a way to get out of your tricky situation, you felt the head of his cock roughly poking at your hole. Dean wiggled himself a bit before harshly thrusting into you, bottoming out completely, and making you whimper out with how stretched and full he made you.

He let go of his grip in your hair, placing hands on either side of your body for support and groaned as he tried to shove himself impossibly deeper inside of you. You tried your best to push yourself forward, feeling the sharp pain of him pressing against your cervix, but he only followed wherever your body went and continued to push deeper.

"So fucking tight," Dean moaned as he stilled for a second, taking a deep breath. He leaned down, sweeping the hair out of your face as your cheek laid against the ground, and whispered to you, "Just remember, it didn't have to be like this."

Dean took no time before pulling out completely and slamming back into you, making you jolt forward as much you could and uncontrollably letting out whimpers. He did this a few times, bottoming out completely, and you hated the way his groans synced with yours.

After a while, Dean set a fast and furious pace, fucking into you like there was no tomorrow. His knees were on either side of you, his legs holding yours down, and he eventually pressed his entire torso against your back in an attempt to stop you from moving so much. His forearms rested against the floor underneath your chest as he held onto your shoulders, giving him a better grip and position to fuck into you.

The pain of the stretch of his cock inside of you and the repetitive scraping of his tip against your cervix started to feel pleasurable as you continued to grow wetter. You tried to mask it, but your uncomfortable whimpers soon turned into loud moans, and Dean's grunts in your ears started to sound gratifying.

Dean's arm came out from under your body and around your neck, still allowing you to breathe a bit. The slight cut of your airflow made your head feel lighter and heavier at the same time, but also made the drag of his cock feel that much more satisfying.

"Can't believe you'd fucking do this to me, fucking slut," Dean grunted in between thrusts, the name only making you moan a little bit louder.

You felt an unfamiliar feeling in your core like something was going to burst. You'd masturbated before and achieved an orgasm, but Dean had never made you cum before so you were a bit shocked.

"Been fucking all those guys, thinking I wouldn't know," Dean continued to thrust, but his movements became slower and harder.

You didn't want Dean's words to be turning you on, a part of you knew that they weren't directed towards you, but your body disagreed. Your core was bubbling and you felt your legs begin to shake underneath his as whatever control you had over your moans began to dissipate.

"Here I fucking am. Taking care of your fucking daughter," Dean groaned and you felt the tears slip from your eyes as your orgasm was imminently approaching. "Both of you are fucking sluts."

You couldn't control yourself anymore as your core erupted. Your body began to twist and turn underneath Dean as you tried to push yourself up with your hands, trying your best to get away from his cock that wouldn't relent.

"Are you cumming, baby?" Dean questioned in a panting chuckle, holding you down tighter, and fucking into you faster. You couldn't answer properly as you held onto the arm around your neck, burying your face into its crook. "That's it. Good girl. Fucking take it."

Your orgasm was hitting you harder than it's ever hit before, and you tried your best to push him out of you to make it stop. You felt so good and you'd never experienced it before, but it was beginning to be too much for your body to handle as you felt your insides hurt from contracting so much.

"Take what your daddy's giving to you," Dean grunted, going faster and lighter with his thrusts, as he began to groan louder and more frequently.

Every inch of your body hurt, inside and out. Your lungs hurt from lack of air, your cunt hurt from the force of his cock, and your ribs hurt from pressing into the hardwood floor. Still, you had never cum so hard in your life, never had an orgasm last so long, and never experienced pleasure as great as it.

"Fuck," Dean let out a final few grunts, slowing his pace down as you felt his thick length begin to twitch inside of you. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside of you, painting your walls white with cum, and rested his head on yours as he caught his breath.

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He just didn’t understand why it had to be THIS girl. Why it had to be you. You made his head ache. You made his eyes glaze over. When he saw you at a party, he went out of his way to avoid you. Sure. You were nice. You were quiet. Some people even said you were sweet. A good girl. And good girls didn’t make good mob wives. 

“Bucky, it could be worse,” Nat said shrugging. “It’s not like you have any better options than Stark.”

He fought the urge to throw something at her. He didn’t like feeling this backed into a corner. And he hated it more that she was right. Stark had money. And influence. He had a lot of clout. And refusing the offer could mean that anyone else would just shut the door in his face. He’d be left out in the cold and before he could blink, the empire he’d carved out for himself would evaporate. Like water on a hot pan. 

“She’s pretty,” Sam added shrugging, “She looks good in diamonds.”

“And quiet,” Steve mused, “A girl is always prettier when she knows when to shut up.”

Bucky didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking at Nat as he said it. And he didn’t have to turn to know Nat was giving him the finger. Instead he walked across the office, stopping in front of the cold fireplace and touching the smooth, clear, crystal of the nearest pawn on the chess board. Thinking. 

For his father, Business had been a chess game. It was one he excelled at. Always 8, 9, 10 moves ahead. He was a slippery, underhanded son of a bitch. And he was… disagreements aside, a good man. He’d given Bucky a solid foundation. One that had been building since his great grandfather first stepped off the boat at Ellis Island. And now… if he didn’t play the game right, he was going to lose it all. 

He picked up the pawn and watched it roll in the palm of his hand. The light of his desk lamp making it glimmer. It was asinine to him, the idea that his future all depended on a girl. One that Stark was fond of sure… but how fond could he be if he was willing to use her for leverage? Could that little affection be enough of a pull to get his help? Would the girl even try? She’d be a pawn. A sacrificial lamb. Bucky could feel the eyes of his friends on his back as he stared at his hand feeling like a heel. He may not like you but.. It was this or a plot next to his dad. And, sometimes. Even pawns won the game. 

“Set up a meeting,” he said finally, “And someone get the lawyers. We’re going to need a hell of a prenup.”

______

“Pull up a seat, kid,” Tony said pouring himself a drink from the decanter on his desk and leaning back in his chair. 

The haze of cigar smoke was thick. And you could tell from his missing tie and unbuttoned shirt sleeves that today had been a rough day. So you sat, forgoing the lecture about smoking. For now. 

“Papa,” you start tentatively, crossing your ankles and pushing up your glasses, “What-”

Tony cut you off with a gesture and sighed, “Someone asked me if they could marry you today,” he said bluntly, and then snorted at the flicker of confusion on your face. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” you say slowly. 

“And James Barnes would like to change that.” 

He took a sip of his drink and watched your reaction. As a rule, everything you wanted to say was written all over your face. But not today. Your brain seemed to have shorted out. At least for a moment. He could see the wheels spinning before they caught traction. 

“Wants to or needs to?” you counter, sitting up and helping yourself to a drink. Tony’s been your father figure since you were 6. You know a negotiation when you see one. And you know a little bravado can go a long way. 

“So you do pay attention,” he chuckled, nodding approvingly. 

You shrug and make an impatient gesture, “Please. He’d been defending his little patch for years.” You had a lot of respect for Barnes, truth be told. He was tenacious. And savvy. Both were qualities you could appreciate. You knew from being at Tony’s elbow for so long that you could do a lot with very little if you knew how to use what you had. “The fuck am I supposed to be?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. You knew he hated it when you swore. And when he didn’t say anything you were more than a little surprised. And even more surprised when his shoulders sagged and he looked a little ashamed of himself. “A representation of a united front,” he sighed. “Rumlow’s been getting bigger for years… I know it’s medieval but-”

“What’s mom say?” you snapped impatiently. You hate this. Everything about this. And even more you hate that if Tony tells you what to do, you’ll do it. Because he’s family. Because Morgan is still so little. And because you know that even Tony can’t hold Rumlow off forever. Not without help.

He flinched, “She told me that I was an asshole for entertaining it but-” He stopped and looked at you. He could see the war on your face. He can see that you’d love to call him a dick and storm out. That you’d like to throw a paperweight at his head and tell him no. But he can also see the resignation. That he could ask and you’d do it. If only to make him happy. To keep him safe so that Morgan doesn’t ever have to be lonely or scared or without a dad.  

“Kid-” He starts but stops when you hold up a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, bowing your head to shut your eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” you sigh, sitting up straight slowly and taking a drink of your brandy. 

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely. He wanted to hug you and kiss the side of your head. But he knew that you felt prickly. Irritated. And that it would probably feel more like a restraint than affection. 

“I want total control over planning the wedding, A nice allowance, and money to renovate whatever he has the nerve to call a house,” you say simply. 

“What, no diamonds?”

“Oh no. That too,” you snorted. If you were going to be a pawn, you were going to be a well taken care of pawn.