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mogarukes · 2 years ago

Text

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

Note

my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻

Promises, Promises.

warnings - smut. cursing.

I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"

Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?

"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."

The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.

"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"

He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."

"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.

"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."

"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."

You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.

"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."

"I'm... what?"

"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."

You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?"

"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."

He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.

"He's wrong."

"Is that so?"

You roll your eyes.

"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."

"And why not?"

"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."

Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.

"He's your age."

"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."

He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.

"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"

Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.

"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."

"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."

"Me too."

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.

He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.

Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.

You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.

"Strip."

You blink at him, processing.

"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."

You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.

Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.

"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"

"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."

You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.

"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."

"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."

He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"

You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"

The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.

"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."

His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.

"House first."

"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.

"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."

He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.

You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.

You'll deal with the repercussions later.

#murphs comment reblogs

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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Ever's Fave Fics of 2023!

list for/from this post!

Enjoy and thank you to each writer for coming up with these fics. you're beautifully talented and holy shit these left me feeling sad/happy/h*rny/mad/or all, in general, ripped my heart out and turned me into a puddle of mush. I can't wait to read more.

I have a "recommends" tab in my masterlist if you ever care what fics I'm reading. if I forgot anyone I am so sorry, I appreciate every single one of you and thank you for writing.

warning: below contains smut (18+ please), angst and fluff from multiple fandoms and rpfs. also 99.9% are "x reader" fics / also summary's provided when given

eddie munson

promise by @chelseeebe

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved? (this is one of those fics where i wanted more cause it was so good i didn't want it to end)

eddie munson smut blurb by @lovebugism / (pussy drunk eddie makes me *dizzy*, the idea alone does things to me. this was amazing!)

private viewing by @lokis-army-77

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it? (lord have fucking mercy...ANOTHER ONE THAT MADE ME FUCKING FERAL)

eddie & roan blurb series by @luveline

you meet eddie and his daughter roan. ficlets about falling in love and becoming a family (this is so sweet and soft, dad!eddie at his finest, and this is so realistic too which i really enjoy.)

even if its a false god by @taintedcigs

in which you are friends with benefits with modern!fuckboy!eddie (another that ripped my heart out and left it on the floor. the angst is angst-en. even with a warning i was prepared and i loved it)

touch my cheek before you leave me, baby by @bettyfrommars

Reader is a 29 year old virgin introvert in need of a confidence boost. Eddie is hired to make our first time a good one. Eddie catches some feelings that he wasn't expecting. (another beautiful piece of work)

midnight rain by @svbrbnlegends

in which you get pregnant a few months before you and eddie are supposed to get married, he gets terrified and runs, wayne knocks some sense into him, and you two create a family together. (this was just so good, right touch of angst and fluff)

employee of the month by @havecourage-darling

enemies-to-lovers, “the employee of the month gets a free dinner to a fancy restaurant and you both fight to win it until it goes too far and oh shit, I think I love you but everything is falling apart.” (contains my favorite things; enemies to lover/idiots in love + miscommunication. this is a multiple times reading)

breathe me by @unsolved-duvall

you and eddie broke up because you were too scared to love him. so when you need someone and he's the only person you want to run to, what are you supposed to do? (*slow clap into a round of an applause*)

love will tear us apart series by @andvys

Eddie convinced himself that he hates the girl that took over his mind the moment he laid eyes on her. The girl that he saved without even knowing it. (this series owns my entire heart and soul, it has been a long time since i pulled a allnighter to finish a fic cause i couldn't stop)

no one can save me but you by @andvys (part two)

You couldn't save him in time but you couldn’t let death take him either so you made a bargain that caused you to pay a high price (this one....especially part two....gave me a FUCKING HEARTATTACK)

the pain of letting you go by @strangermarvelss

you've separated from your husband, eddie, but aren't looking to rebound anytime soon. but he is (the goddamn range of emotions i went throught with this one...DEAR GOD...this was a masterpiece)

steve harrington

follow me down by @usedtobecooler / steve harrington + reader + glory hole (do you really need more on why you should read this?)

sweet as death by @strangerstilinski / loosely based off jennifers body (THIS DOESN'T HAVE MORE NOTES WHYYY?!?! HELLLOOO READER IS SUCKING STEVE BLOOD AND OTHER THINGS)

dangerous liasions by @steebharringt0n

he was sent to protect you, infiltrate your family as your personal bodyguard, but instead he plans on defiling you. (mob!steve + corruption kink....just read it, trust me)

facade series by @familyvideowithsteve

Steve’s love life is complicated due to the Upside Down and the trauma they all carry. He must lie, break his own heart and his newfound love’s for her safety. Until she gets dragged in the unknown by a demobait’s tale. She must survive alone (do you need to cry? feel pain? crave angst? here ya go my friend)

dying on the inside by @familyvideowithsteve

Steve's grief has been on the same stage for months : denial. He just can't do it. Living without her is just impossible. (this is....painful in a good way and a real shame there aren't more notes)

keep trying by @lilacletter

a look into what happens after you tell steve you’re finally ready to try for a baby. (hottest and sweetest thing i have read. steve + breeding kink just is canon also lbr)

you and i (back at it again) by @lighteyed

steve's left standing alone after starcourt, until you show up for him. (this punched a whole through my chest and i was ok with that)

its just us by @andvys

You and Steve hated each other from the first moment you met but when you get betrayed by the people you love the most, all you have is each other. (enemies to lovers with hot smut! i really enjoyed this and fuck...when reader finds out the truth...i never wanted to strangle two people more)

hands on you by @usedtobecooler / (big cock steve, i dont need to say more do i? didn't think so *chefs kiss*)

you can have the best of me, baby by @superblysubpar

Steve and you share a desperate night together during the end of the world. (this fic is so so good, and so so beautiful. everything is laid out so perfect cause of word use and talent. bravo)

single-thread by @headkiss

steve has a big secret and convinces himself he needs to stay away from you to keep you safe. that’s tough to do when you’re his neighbour. (SPIDERMAN STEVE! tell me that's not perfect? also this angst is just....ughhhhhh in the that way we all love)

steddie (x reader)

in the flesh by @bimbobaggins69 (succubus!steve + eddie + reader)

after finding a weird book of summoning spells from the library, your boyfriend eddie proposes an idea where you’d put the spells to good use, but what happens when you both actually summon a succubus demon who’s been starved of his lustful desires for centuries. (I can in for the succubus!steve, and I don regret it)

all you have to do is ask by @xxhellfirebunnyxx

Ever since your boyfriend Steve found out that you lost your virginity to your friend Eddie he can’t stop thinking about the two of you together, the fantasies of you and Eddie tangled together running through his mind on repeat. It starts off with just the two of you but when the fantasies start to evolve and Eddie is touching him too, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. (i was a puddle, first from h*rniness, and then because of fluff)

welcome to the dungeon by @bimbobaggins69 (sex shop steddie x onlyfans!reader)

it’s just your luck that the two men you planned to shoot a scene with canceled, last minute. It’s also just your luck that your usual sex shop you frequent is closed, leaving you to make a thirty minute trip ending up in a town called Hawkins… it’s also just your luck that the two men behind the counter totally know who you are and might perhaps even be willing to shoot that scene with you? (THIS SERIES MAKES ME FERAL WTF, like the smut....fuck i needed many moments to catch my breath)

honorable mentions

bad idea, right? by @babybluebex (j.quinn x fem!reader)

your ex joseph conveniently texts you to come over just as you're missing him, and who can say no to those eyes? (ex!sex with joe...trust me and read this)

firsts by @sherifftillman (tom grant x reader)

A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined. (this was so cute, sucker for a good friends to lovers, and this filled that itch so well)

italy calling by @babybluebex (j.quinn x reader) series

when your friend convinces you to go to livorno, italy on vacation, you don't expect to meet a handsome stranger. you also don't expect him to establish a rule during your fling: no finding each other afterwards. after everything, though, will you be able to keep up your end of the bargain? and will he? (*slow clap into applause*)

long lost love before & after by @babybluebex (j.quinn x reader) series

on your first day at the london academy of musical and dramatic arts, you meet a sweet boy, and you quickly grow close. two years of dating go by, but, when you suspect that joseph is cheating on you, you make an irreversible decision. (the angst....fuck)

best panel ever by @babybluebex (dad!j.quinn x reader)

at london comic con, naptime for joe’s son interferes with joe’s panel. luckily, joe has a fix for the situation. (when i tell you i have never wanted anything more.....a little baby boy with joseph, *cries*)

tom grant x reader smut blurb by @usedtobecooler

Tom being insecure about his dick and his ‘performance’ in bed so reader reassures him? (this was honestly so beautiful, like i literally melted at it)

waiting room by @faerygrant (c.berzatto x reader)

Carmen’s neglect of your relationship finally comes to a boiling point on the eve of your ten month anniversary. (another beautiful angst that ripped my heart from my chest and made me want more)

i wanna be yours by @inpraizeof (c.berzatto x reader)

enemies to lovers, carmy likes the attitude he’s developed when he’s around you, far more than being with his girlfriend (this could be a 100 part series and i would reach part and still want more)

always have never to hold by @bubbles-for-all-of-us / c.berzatto x reader /(i dont know how else to describe this angst filled masterpiece other than to tell you to read it, cherish it, and tell everyone you know)

make my heart surrender series by @nolita-fairytale (c.berzatto x reader)

the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (i pulled an all nighter to read this fully knowing i worked the next morning and i dont regret it at all and would it again. it took two days to finish and i loved it so so much)

the bee and the bear by @spacecowboyhotch (c.berzatto x reader)

they’re always drawn to each other, no matter how much they resist. its kismet— the Bee and the Bear. (i am impatiently waiting for chapter four jkjk, but seriously i fell in love at chapter 1 and i already hate kyle)

square one by @fooled-around-and-fell (c.berzatto x reader)

when carmen left for new york, he also left you. now he's back, unannounced, and no matter how angry you are at him... there's a small part of you that wants to see him again. (does the trend of all the painful angst show that i am addicted? this fic scratched that itch of needing angst so good)

the panic of love by @theonewiththefanfics (c.berzatto x reader)

Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change? (this was one of the first fics i read after binging the bear, and it made me addicted to carmen berzatto and need him in my life)

roomates series by @violentdelightsandviolentends (c.berzatto x reader)

a series / collection of fics based on being roommates with carmy. (its both hot smut and the softest fluff...and i simple crave more)

pity party by @@violentdelightsandviolentends (c.berzatto x reader)

Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands. (this fic in fact led me to the roomate series and....i just...top notch smut)

carmen berzatto blurb by @sunflowersteves / (this made me into a puddle of mush after reading this)

more, more, more by @artwriting (c.berzatto x reader) / (so this fic is in fact the entire reason i started watching the bear, it was on my list, never got to it. how this writer wrote carmen and the FUCKING SMUT was the entire reason i watched the show. and yes, carmen is in fact, a slutty SLUTTY man - and traumatized but ya know)

more fic recs from stranger things, the last of us, bridgerton & more!

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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hii can I get whiskey w Steve Rogers for oral/face riding?

Adjusting.

warnings - smut. cursing.

nomad steve makes me feral. that's all. I was feeling this one.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's adjusting, to this new life.

He's shy. Taking it one day at a time. Reminding himself to breathe when things get overwhelming.

Soon, he finds his feet. Regains his confidence. Starts asking for things, setting boundaries, taking what he wants a little more.

He keeps surprising you. With his knowledge, new slang he uses, his ability to use a phone. He's a fast learner.

He's braver, now.

He's adjusting.

Trying to get used to the fact that women aren't as seemingly fragile as they were. They run the world more openly, now, and Steve loves it.

He loves you.

Tries to show you how much when he's got you between his sheets, kissing every inch of skin he can find. Gentle, tender, careful.

You tell him that you know he loves you, no matter what. He doesn't have to be so tentative. It doesn't change the way you look at him.

He's in a lust fuelled haze when he finds the courage.

"Sit on my face."

You choke on your breath, gasping for air.

"What?"

"You heard me, honey. Sit on my face. Now."

You've never seen him like this. Frayed at the edges, feral almost. His eyes are as dark as the wet spot between your legs.

You quirk a brow at him in challenge, but he doesn't back down. So you grant him his wish. Crawling up his body until you're hovering over his pretty face, deep gaze focused on you.

"Is this what you want?" you whisper.

"More than anything."

He's practically growling, voice lower and rougher than you've ever heard it. You owe a thanks to whatever has got him so riled up.

He tugs you down to his mouth with two strong hands around your thighs, grip hard enough that you know you'll bruise tomorrow. You can't wait.

You tangle your fingers through his golden blonde locks and tug, whining when he groans, from the depths his chest. The two of you are animalistic, finally tapping into the carnal desires that have been there all along.

You're practically riding the gorgeous ridge of his nose, reveling in the way his tongue slips inside and curls. He might not have much experience with this, but he's always been naturally gifted. He's one of those people that's good at everything.

He's groaning, humming, murmuring, enjoying this just as much as you are. Your hands almost splinter the headboard, skin pulled taut across tense knuckles. You're so close you can taste it, honey sweet and saccharine.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl. Come on my face, honey. Please."

It's the broken please that gets you, the desperation in his tone and the tightening grip on your hips. You see stars, dizzying and clear, blood rushing to your head. Steve doesn't let up, determined to see how pretty you look when he finally pushes you to your limit.

You collapse against his chest, leaning into his touch like a kitten. Rough fingertips trace patterns across your back, your arms, your hips. He's waiting for you to give him the green light.

You kiss him with force, tongue sliding into his mouth with no room for protest. You bite his lip and grin. America's golden boy. Lying under you with your come smeared across his face.

He leans up to whisper in your ear, rough tone filled with promise and mischief.

"I love you," he murmurs, tongue gliding across your neck. "Let me fuck you like I don't."

You've never been one to deny him. You're not about to start now.

He's adjusting, after all.

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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dark nights

18+

you don't think sharing a room with your lecturers is a big deal. not until professor rogers starts going a little too far with his sleepwalking. thankfully, professor barnes is there to talk you through it.

content warning: dark!steve x f!reader x soft!dark!bucky, age gap, somnophilia, dub/noncon, naive!reader, smut, voyeurism, booby stuff, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex, cream pie, cockwarming.

As you lie on your side, the gentle sound of rain pattering against the window soothes you. You've never been quick to fall asleep, but the motel's lumpy mattress isn't helping. You are appreciate of Steve's warmth, though, and the fact that you don't feel uncomfortable to be sharing a bed with him at all.

When Professor Barnes invited you on this research trip, you knew you couldn't turn the opportunity down. Two weeks with two of the greatest minds in quantum physics? You had to say yes, utterly honored that they allowed you, a mere freshman barely two months into her college career, to accompany them.

Bucky was happy to take the sofa bed, where he lays now. He's still awake; you can hear him typing on his phone every so often. It's only been ten minutes since you got into bed but they did tell you Steve takes only minutes to fall into a deep sleep. They also warned you that he's prone to sleepwalking, which doesn't worry you - until you feel his arm wrap around you.

"Professor Rogers?" You whisper, turning your head to find his eyes closed as he softly snores.

"Everything alright?" Bucky asks you from the couch. The lamp by the TV is still on so you can clearly see him sitting up.

"Uh, yeah," You reply lowly. "All good."

Not convinced by your tone, Bucky stands up to check on you, his brows furrowing. "Steve sleepwalks, as we mentioned, pay it no mind," He assures you. "Try and get some sleep, flower. Big day tomorrow."

You take his advice, shutting your eyes and trying your best to relax - but then you feel Steve's hand cup your breast. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying wide open.

"Professor Barnes," You call out to Bucky, who's still standing by the couch.

"What's wrong?" He asks you, taking a step closer.

"He.... he's touching my... chest," You manage to spurt out, cringing inwardly.

Bucky tuts, slowly walking over to you. "I'm sorry about him, but you must stay calm," He tells you firmly. "You can't wake up a sleepwalker."

Steve's fingers start rubbing and pulling at your nipple, making you freeze up. "He... Professor Barnes, please stop him!" You beg him desperately.

"Shh," Bucky whispers soothingly, coming closer to where you lay. His glasses rest lowly on his nose, the pipe in his mouth letting out smoke. "Be brave, flower. It can be incredibly dangerous to wake someone while they're sleepwalking."

"I - this isn't sleepwalking," You whisper, holding back your whimpers while Steve paws at your tits.

"Ah, but it is," Bucky retorts. "Sleepwalkers don't only get up and trot around in the night. I've heard some cases where they cook and eat an entire meal while asleep, and one man even drove all the way to work. It's a dynamic ailment, flower, please be patient with him. I'm sorry, I didn't know Steve's sleepwalking could manifest in a sexual manner, but I'm sure he'll stop soon."

You bite down on your lip and hope he's right. Carefully, you try to move Steve's hands off your breasts, but he only squeezes them harder, making you squirm. Suddenly he pulls up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air - and worse, to Bucky's eyes.

"Professor," You shudder, bringing your hands up to cover your chest.

"Just relax," Bucky says lowly, his eyes dark. "It'll be over soon."

Steve pins your left shoulder down firmly before moving his head down. You aren't sure what he's doing until you feel his lips wrap around your nipple. A whimper leaves your mouth as he sucks on your tit, conflicting feelings coursing through you. Though you're terrified and embarrassed, you also feel pangs of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.

"Remain calm, flower," Bucky utters soothingly. "Let him continue and he'll stop on his own accord. We cannot wake him."

You're slightly frustrated at his words - surely a professor forcing his way on a student, whether consciously or not, is more important than whatever danger to Steve you would be posing by waking him up? You try to push him off you, but even in slumber, he's much too strong and heavy for you to try and fight against him.

Steve's hand suddenly pushes past the hemline of your shorts and bypasses your panties. You almost squeal as his fingers plunge into you with no warning, three digits stretching your entrance. The ease with which he's able to slide in, the juices which coat his fingers, leave you incredibly ashamed.

"Professor Barnes," You cry lowly between shaky breaths. "It - he's hurting me."

"Shh, shh, shh," Bucky hushes you as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, honey, I really am, but there's nothing I can do. Try and close your eyes, think about something else."

You squeeze your eyes shut but no pleasant thoughts can distract you from Steve fucking you with his fingers. He curls and scissors them inside you, making your stomach flip. The sound of his fingers sloshing in and out of your wet cunt fill the room, and you're utterly humiliated.

Small whines and moans rush past your lips uncontrollably as Steve fingers you faster, his mouth still latched onto your hard nipple. You wince, trying not to let the pleasure take over, determined to remain professional.

"You're doing so well, flower," Bucky says as he looks your body up and down, watching as Steve violates you. "Being such a good girl, so calm."

"Please, Sir," You whimper, shaking your head. "Make him stop."

"I'm sure it won't be much longer, now," Bucky assures you, biting on his smoke pipe. "That's it, flower, stay nice and relaxed."

Your heart is beating out of your chest and it only beats harder when you feel Steve's hard cock resting against your bare thigh. Before you can move away from him, he pulls his fingers out of you and rips apart your shorts, panties and all. Your body is frozen in shock as he shoves you onto your side with a gruff grunt, and before you get the chance to realize what's about to happen and brace yourself for it, Steve pushes his entire cock into your cunt.

"Oh, my God!" You can't help but cry loudly. Hoping it's enough to wake him, you feel a sense of relief as he stops moving. There are a few moments of silence and just as you look up and meet Bucky's eyes with your tear-filled ones, Steve begins to roughly fuck you.

His hips snap against yours over and over as he mercilessly probes you with his thick cock. You could swear it feels like you're being torn apart, every inch of your skin on fire as you tightly grip onto the sheets.

"Just stay calm," Bucky says casually as he strokes your hair, watching Steve fuck you like an animal. "That's a good girl, just take it."

"Please," You whimper, crying with every hard thrust he serves you. It makes you feel even worse when the pain begins to make room for pleasure, as though you're just as animalistic and depraved as Steve's unconscious alter ego.

The springs in the mattress squeak beneath you as Steve fucks you harder and the headboard repeatedly smacks against the wall with a heavy thump. He lets out low grunts and growls into your ear, his hands keeping you pinned to the bed. A part of you doesn't believe that he's genuinely sleepwalking when you see the look in his eyes - but you remember what Bucky said. Some people can cook meals and drive cars while sleepwalking - it is so crazy to think someone could have sex while sleepwalking?

Still, though, you refuse to let Bucky know that a part of you is finding the sordid encounter enjoyable. While pleasure envelopes you and cascades down your spine, you keep on a strong face in hopes that it'll convince Bucky you can remain professional even in the most difficult and absurd situations.

"That's it, flower, you're being so good," Bucky mumbles, gently stroking your cheek. "It's almost over, I promise. Just a little longer. You're taking this all so well, being so good for us. We knew you would be."

His words confuse you for a second - did they know this was going to happen? But you shake away those thoughts. There's no way they would have let you come if they knew this was possible, you must have misunderstood him.

Steve's thrusts become quicker and harder as he fucks you into the mattress. Your legs shake and you can't believe how close you are to climaxing. You try to hold it back, refusing to orgasm in front of your professors, but when Steve suddenly begins rubbing harsh circles onto your clit while pulling and twisting your nipple, you know you have no control. With a loud cry, you cum onto his cock, your cunt squeezing around his pulsating shaft.

"That's it, good girl," Bucky mumbles, stroking your slacked jaw as your eyes roll back and your body trembles and shakes.

Steve thrusts a few more times before he cums with a grunt, filling you with his seed. You gasp at the feeling, his warm cum coating your insides, his twitching cock beating against your walls.

"You did so well," Bucky says, his own cock hard and leaking precum, threatening to burst through his pants. "You've been such a good girl tonight."

All you can let out is a weak whimper.

Bucky gives you a soft smile. "Now, get some sleep," He tells you firmly before making his way to the bathroom.

You breathe heavily, trying to process the events of the night, equally as ashamed as you are exhausted. A few moments pass and you wait for Steve to pull out and return to his side of the bed, but he remains where he is with his cock inside you, heavy arm around your body, soft snores leaving his mouth.

You try to push him off you but he only grips you tighter and even thrusts his softening cock in and out of you a few times, scaring you into remaining perfectly still for the rest of the night.

masterlist

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.

pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).

warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~4.8k

author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.

For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.

Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.

When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.

Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.

His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.

It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.

Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃

He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.

Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻

Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.

Great, thank you so much! See you then :)

You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.

The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.

Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.

She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.

The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.

He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.

Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.

When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.

Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.

That is, if he’s her biological father.

The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.

Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.

Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.

She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.

It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.

“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.

“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.

For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.

“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.

Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.

Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.

He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.

Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.

Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.

Please do. The door will be unlocked.

You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.

Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.

You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.

Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.

You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.

Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.

“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.

The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.

“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”

You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.

“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.

“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.

You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.

“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.

“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”

When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.

“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.

“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”

There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.

“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”

Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?

“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.

When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.

“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.

Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.

He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.

The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.

“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”

“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”

“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.

Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.

You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.

“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”

His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.

“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper.

The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”

You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.

Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”

He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.

Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.

Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.

He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.

Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.

Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”

Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.

Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.

In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.

Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.

His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”

You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.

He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.

“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”

The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.

Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.

“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.

You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.

“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.

“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.

He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.

“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”

He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.

The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.

A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.

“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”

Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”

His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.

His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.

“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.

That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.

Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.

Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.

Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.

His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.

Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.

“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”

You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.

Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.

His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.

For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.

Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.

But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,

Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.

Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.

You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.

But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.

“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”

For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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It Was Wonderful

Kinktober prompt: Aftercare

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Backstage pAss!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Fluff, subdrop, comfort no hurt

Words: 1139

A/N: This is the end of my mini-kinktober. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for liking, extra thanks for reblogging and/or commenting, and gentle forehead kisses for everyone because I love you

Thanks for reblogging.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, and you find yourself staring up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

He smiles at you radiantly, “Welcome back, princess.”

“Hi, Stevie.”

Your head is pillowed on his thighs, and when you roll over towards him you feel tears slip down your face. You bat at the tears with the back of your hand and laugh. Only the laugh comes out as a sob.

Steve gathers you into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here, princess. I’ve got you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“‘M not hurt, Stevie. I feel good. I’m not sure why I’m crying.”

“It happens, sweet girl,” Bucky reassures you, pushing your sweat-damp hair away from your face before dabbing at the corners of your eyes with a tissue. “Just give your body a chance to stow those extra happy chemicals, and it’ll taper off.”

You know this already. It happens to Bucky sometimes. But helping him with it and feeling it personally are two very different things.

Steve kisses your forehead. “Is it okay if I keep holding you, sweetheart?’

You wrap your arms around him. “Don’t you dare put me down,” you mumble against his neck.

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

“Here. Eat some choccy,” Bucky says, crouching next to you holding a square of chocolate in front of you. “Choccy always makes me feel better after.” You try to take the chocolate from him, but he dodges your hand, and shakes his head. He holds it there until you pop your mouth open, then he slips it onto your tongue. “Good girl,” he chuckles when you hum at how delicious the sweet treat is.

“See? Look at you. Already done crying,” Steve says. He licks his thumb and swipes over the tear tracks before they can dry on your skin.

Bucky makes sure you’re done eating the little square of chocolate, then he offers you some water, making you sip it slowly. “I’ll get a towel. And a couple more blankets, and snacks,” he hums, handing the water to Steve before exiting the bunk.

Steve resituates you so he can give you more water, and another piece of chocolate.

Steve asks earnestly, “Was that too much, princess? We don’t have to do it again if you don't like it.”

“No, it was wonderful,” you rush to reassure him, while you make him eat a piece of chocolate too. “Not breathing this way,” you cover your mouth, “feels totally different from this way,” you press the webbing between your thumb and index finger against your throat. “I like it,” you nod decisively.

“Do you like it enough to do it again some other time?”

“Yes. Absolutely. But next time, can you have your phone with you?”

“What for?”

“I want you to be able to take pictures if you want to. I know you like to use them for your sketches.”

“I love you so much, sweet girl. I promise I’ll have my phone on hand next time.”

“Good,” you nod. You pop your mouth open and wait patiently until Steve slides a piece of chocolate onto your tongue. You take the bar from him, break off a square, and reciprocate by feeding him one too.

You lean your head against his chest. “You’re so warm,” a shiver shakes through you.

“Are you chilly?”

“A little.”

“You could lie down and cover up with a blanket?”

You scrunch your nose and shake your head. “It’s… ahm,” you flap your hand at the mattress, “wet.”

“Fair point. How about this instead,” he makes you sit up so he can pull one of his hoodies over your head.

You poke your head inside of the hoodie and take a big whiff of Steve’s scent. “Nice,” you say, “but not good enough.”

“What do you want, princess?”

“Lay down. On your tummy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Stay there,” you order. You climb onto his back and lie down. Up on his elbows, the natural curve of his back, butt, and legs conforms comfortably to your body.

Plus, it’s like being curled up on an extremely sexy electric blanket.

You wiggle, and make a happy noise. Steve laughs. “I’m happy to be of service, my queen.”

Bucky chuckles, “Is the bed not good enough?”

“She didn’t want to lay in the wet spot. And, well, since most of it’s wet,” he lifts an eyebrow and gestures to where you’re curled up on his back.

“You’re warm too,” you mumble against Steve’s shoulder blade.

“Aww. Thank you,” he says, genuinely happy to be able to offer you comfort of any kind.

“You don’t have to get off Stevie, but I need to clean you up princess,” Bucky says.

You roll over halfway, and when Bucky sits next to you, you squeeze his bearded cheeks until his mouth opens. You set a piece of chocolate on his tongue. He hums his gratitude, and starts wiping your face with the warm, wet hand towel he brought with him. Once he’s done cleaning the sweat, tears, and come off your body, he cleans Steve up the best he can without running you off.

After he gobbles up another piece of chocolate you shake in his direction, Bucky makes you roll over onto your stomach, so Steve drops his head down onto his forearm, and you roll over, Hooking your chin over his shoulder, and letting your arms flop out on either side of his chest. You ask lazily, “‘Zis good?”

“It’s perfect, baby girl,” Bucky soothes. He starts massaging your thigh muscles. Once they loosen up, he moves up to your glutes, then your back, neck, and finally your shoulders.

Bucky lifts Steve’s head up and places it in his lap. His warm fingers skritch over Steve’s scalp, until he’s practically purring.

“You did so well for us, princess, Bucky praises you affectionately. “You’re such a good girl. Thank you for trusting us to take care of you and make you feel good.”

You sigh softly, “I love you both so much.”

Steve reaches up to card his fingers through your hair and they both murmur their I love you’s. “Come lay down, Buck.” You pat the mattress next to Steve until Bucky parks himself exactly where you want him.

“That’s more like it,” you chip. You roll off Steve’s backs and plop down in the trench between their bodies. They both roll to face you, and scoot closer until you’re pressed tightly between them.

You giggle, “Well, I don’t need this anymore.” You sit up enough to slip Steve’s hoodie off, because a few seconds between them and it’s already too hot to be wearing it. You don’t lie back down fast enough for them, so they tackle you down to the mattress and tickle you until all three of you are laughing so hard your sides hurt.

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 - 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: extreme voyeurism, daddy!kink, drugs (ecstasy), smutt, dd/lg vibes, dubcon, choking, dark Ari, liar Ari, cheater Ari, mean Ari, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Finally sick of Ari's lies, you're determined not to fall victim to his charms again.

𝐀/𝐍: This is part 2 of my fic, Wicked Games. Oh, I'm nervous about posting this! Please forgive any mistakes! Major warning for drug use and dubcon smut! Also, we finally find out who the second love interest it! Word count: 14.7k.

Coming to this party was a huge mistake, and you realise that the moment you enter the frat house. The music’s so loud, you can barely hear yourself think. You definitely can’t hear your friend Wanda, who’s excitedly mouthing stuff at you as she hands you a shot. You quickly down it with her before taking in your surroundings: the whole room is dark and packed, with red and black strobe lights thumping along with the music. Bodies writhing at every turn, people laughing, screaming, kissing and more.

And then you see him. Amongst the sea of what feels like a bazillion people, Ari stands heads above them all. The 6’6’’ captain of the basketball team, so handsome in a white shirt that clings snugly to his muscular biceps. Even with a snapback resting backwards on his head, you can still see tufts of his long brown hair curling at the base of his neck. God, did he have to be so goddamn hot?

Of course, he’s staring straight back at you, and you know you should look away. But you stand there, gormless and entranced like a schoolgirl. Watching him take in your body, letting his eyes trail leisurely down your form and drink everything in. He’s a fair distance away from you and half obstructed by dancing bodies, but you somehow still see his pink tongue peak out and run over his lips hungrily as he gazes at you.

Your dress is fire-engine red, daringly short and so form fitting that it barely covers your butt. The material is stretchy, hugging your body as the neckline dips lower than what you’re normally used to. You know Ari recognises the dress by the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His eyes are locked in place, taking over your accentuated curves and pushed up cleavage.

He’d seen it in your closet a few weeks ago, and you remember how he’d picked it up and whistled. “What a slutty dress, baby.” He’d said, “Why don’t you put it on for daddy?” And of course, you had. You did anything he asked you to, and you’d never forget how dark his eyes had gotten, and how sombre he’d looked as he’d beckoned you over to his lap, his hands running up and down your body covered in the thin red fabric. “I don’t want you wearing this dress in public, okay baby? Slutty dresses like this are for my eyes only. Promise me you’ll never wear this for anyone else.”

And promise you had, but yet here you were. And you can practically see the smoke billowing out of Ari’s ears, and you can see his jaw clenching as he’s unable to rip his eyes off of you. And you feel almost bad for disobeying him, until you see a pink manicured hand grab Ari’s face and pull him down for a kiss. Sharon. He was here with her. But of course, he was here with her! She was his girlfriend, after all. And you were the gullible fool who he’d strung along the whole time he was with her.

It had only taken you a few days after your last hook-up with Ari in the locker-room to realise that he had not broken up with Sharon like he’d told you he had. You’d seen them together on the campus courtyard, hand-in-hand, Sharon looking happier than ever. She definitely didn’t look like someone whose uncle had just died. Ari had seen you too, and all he could muster up was a sheepish look before his girlfriend had dragged him away.

That had been last week, and since then, he’d been texting you nonstop.

Ari: Baby, it’s not what it looks like. Me and Sharon are just friends now!

Ari: Okay, fine. We got back together. But, baby, it’s only temporary ;) You know you’re my number one girl.

Ari: Send daddy a pic, baby girl ;)

Ari: Okay, I get that you’re mad but you know I don’t like it when you ignore my messages.

Ari: I miss you, baby. Let’s FaceTime soon, okay? Wear something sexy ;)

Ari: Fuck you. I’ve got plenty of other options.

You prided yourself on not answering even one of his texts, despite the fact that you could feel your resolve weakening all week. But you were determined to never speak to him again, and definitely never be his play-thing or side-chick again. And now here you were, at a frat party that you’d let your friend Wanda drag you to. Which you definitely didn’t come just so you could show Ari exactly what he was missing out on. Definitely not…

Tearing your gaze away from the beefy basketball captain, you pour yourself and Wanda another shot each, cringing as the colourless liquid sloshes down your throat. But the burn is a welcome change from the heartache you feel, knowing you’re in the same room as Ari and her. You dare to peak back at them one more time and hate yourself for doing it because now they’re dancing together, although you can see Ari still looking straight at you while his girlfriend’s back is turned.

“C’mon, let’s dance.” You drag Wanda to the dance floor determinedly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Miss Side Chick.” You hear a deep voice in your ear as two heavy hands land on your hips. Wanda has already busied herself with dancing with a guy you vaguely remember from freshman orientation, so you turn around and come face to face with another basketball player. Tall and rugged, hair buzzed off and tattoos smattered all over his chest and arms. Curtis.

“What do you want?” You sneer, because Curtis is Ari’s best friend. And anyone associated with Ari is an enemy to you.

“Whoa, retract your claws, kitten. I’m not looking for a fight.” Curtis smirks, his hands firmly planted on your hips, swaying you along with him to the upbeat music. His body is practically glued to yours, and you can’t help but inhale his manly scent. It’s some type of aftershave that you don’t recognise, but boy does it smell good.

“Well, I don’t care what you’re looking for!” You raise your chin up at him defiantly, despite the fact that he’s more than a head taller than you. “And you can report that back to Ari, okay? And then you and him can both go to hell–Whoops!” You stumble forward in your high heels and cling to the beefy buzzcut-haired man in front of you to regain your balance. Curtis’ hand travels up to the small of your back as he pulls you closer, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Careful, kitty kat.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But you let Ari call you whatever he wants.” His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, and you can’t help but cling to him. You feel like a small fish in this gigantic pond of a party, and Curtis feels solid as you teeter in your heels. You see the glint in his eye as he flashes you a smile. “I’ve heard you getting fucked, you know.”

You pout, “That’s really pervy, Curtis.”

“Yeah? I feel like you and Levinson both love an audience. You want a drink, kitten?”

“No!”

“C’mon, you look like you need a drink. I mean, just look at you. Standing in the middle of the dancefloor looking all cute and pouty like a little baby.”

“ ‘m not a baby!”

As if on cue, you pout again. But you let Curtis drag you back to the drinks table, watching in awe as he mixes different things together in a crystal glass he seems to have conjured out of nowhere. Something compels you to look over your shoulder, and you spy Ari from across the room. Sharon’s arms are around his neck but his eyes are still boring holes into you. He’s got a can of beer that he’s currently crushing in his fist, and even in the darkness, you can see his face going red as his lips pull into a sneer.

Oh, he was jealous!

You giggle and give him a wave before pointedly turning back to Curtis and accepting whatever drink he’s just mixed for you.

“A baby drink for a baby like you.” Curtis pulls your cheek condescendingly and you scowl before eyeing the concoction in the glass. It’s a pretty pale pink colour and smells kind of fruity. You look up questioningly at Curtis, who crosses his arms over his chest as he grins like a Cheshire cat. “Go ahead, kitten, it won’t bite. I told you, it’s a baby drink – you wouldn’t even know there’s alcohol in it. Tastes like strawberries and cream.”

“Well… that does sound yummy.” You dip your pinkie finger in the drink and swirl it around, pretending to consider it. Your eyes dart sideways in Ari’s direction once more. And he’s still staring at you, despite the fact that his girlfriend’s all up against him, whispering something in his ear. God, that makes you mad, and you down the drink without a second thought. It goes down your throat easy, with a pleasantly fruity aftertaste. You look up at Curtis and beam.

“You were right! Tasted much better than shots! Could I have another, maybe?” You bat your lashes at him and he smirks. But he makes you another one, and you down it quickly, trying to flush away any thoughts of Ari and Sharon out of your mind. Screw both of them!

“Easy there, kitty kat. It’s a drink, you don’t have to down it like a shot.” Curtis grins, and it’s only when you feel his arm around your waist that you realise you’ve fallen into him again. Whatever he’d put in your drinks seems to already be hitting you, but you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care! And Curtis’ thumb rubbing circles on your hip feel kind of nice, and so you let him hold you as you sway, blinking rapidly as the alcohol mingles into your bloodstream.

“You know, kitten, there’s a bunch of empty rooms upstairs. Maybe we could find one ‘em so you can lie down for a while?” Curtis whispers beguilingly in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin and making you shiver in your tiny dress. He casually plays with the flimsy straps, pushing one down and exposing your shoulder. A second later you feel his lips press against your exposed skin, making your heart jump with thrill. There’s something hard poking against your stomach, and you giggle and bite your lip.

“Don’t think I can get up the stairs, Curtis. Can’t even… Can’t even stand up straight!” He’s supporting most of your body weight as you lean heavily into him, loving the feel of strong, beefy arms around you. It’s dark enough that you can almost imagine they belong to someone else…

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll carry you up there. Babies like you are meant to be carried, right? And I want to hear you scream like you did for Levinson in the locker room.”

You barely have a chance to consider his proposition before you feel a heavy hand grab your arm and pull you backwards. You stumble in your high heels before your back collides with a very solid, very sturdy chest.

“She’s off limits, Curtis. You know that.” Ari’s voice is low but firm, and you turn to see the captain of the basketball team glaring daggers at his teammate and best friend, his brows furrowed and lips set in a thin line. His fingers are curled around your upper arm, not showing any signs of letting go as he looms formidably like a giant by your side. Sharon’s nowhere to be found.

“Oh yeah? You finally ready to jump ship from one girl to the next, Ari?” Curtis grins, wholly unperturbed as he pops open a can of beer and takes a long swig.

“Very funny, asshole. Go find someone else to take advantage of.” Ari says wryly, still holding you with an iron grip while you gape at both of them. And a part of you – an admittedly pathetic part of you – is thrilled that Ari’s come over to you now. Clearly, he was affected by you talking to his best friend, and that makes you feel special.

Surprisingly, Curtis backs off easily, slinking off into the party like a panther. The crowd swallows him up, and you watch him go for a moment before the crushing grip gets even tighter. You hear a rumble from Ari’s chest as he mauls you to a dim corner of the room. It’s still packed with people, but he manages to prop you up in a dark spot, his palms slamming against the wall on either side of you, trapping you against it.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up to the party.” Ari sneers, pressing his considerably larger frame against yours. “And you’re drunk already. Hasn’t anyone told you not to accept drinks from strangers?”

You blink up at him, feeling slower and more sluggish than usual thanks to Curtis’ magic drink in your system. But then his words hit you and you scowl, craning your neck to look up at him despite the fact that you’re in heels.

“Curtis isn’t a stranger, he’s my friend!” (You’ve conveniently forgotten the fact that you’d sworn that any friend of Ari’s was an enemy of yours).

Ari scoffs, “He’s not your friend. You’re not allowed to be friends with boys.”

You stick your chin up at him, “Oh yeah? Says who?”

The huge basketball player drives his pelvis into you with force, his clothed erection rutting against your stomach and making your eyes pop wide open and a gasp dies somewhere in your throat.

He smirks, “Says your daddy.”

Beyond Ari’s broad shoulder, you can see the party commencing in full force. The DJ’s switched to a more R&B centric playlist, and the whole room reverberates with the sounds of heavy bass and sexy crooning lyrics. Couples find each other on the dancefloor, strangers join together like magnets. Swaying and grinding and groping each other in the dark.

You blink several times before refocusing your gaze on Ari, trying not to get lost in his eyes or his smell or just how big and manly he is compared to you. No. You had to stay strong and you had to stay away from him. He was trouble with a capital T, and there was no way you were going to let him get away with cornering you at this party – not after all the lies he’d fed you about breaking up with his girlfriend. Not after he’d strung you along for weeks…

“Fuck off, Ari! You have no right to tell me who I can or can’t be friends with! Now just… Just fuck off and go back to your girlfriend an’ leave me alone!” Your palms land on his chest and you push with all your might. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t budge an inch. In fact, he yawns pointedly, infuriating you further as you continue to push his huge, muscular body off of you.

“Please. You thrive on my attention, baby. That’s why you’re wearing this slutty dress and flirting with my best friend.” He says matter-of-factly, making your blood boil and your jaw drop open indignantly.

“Don’t want your attention!”

“Babies like you need attention.” Ari tells you, saying each word slowly as if you truly are a dumb baby who doesn’t understand anything. One of his hands meanders upwards, casually twining a piece of your hair around his finger, “Or else you’ll cry and throw a tantrum. And we don’t want the little baby to throw a tantrum, do we?”

You can’t believe his cockiness! Before you know what you’re doing, you punch him straight in the chest. Hard. But Ari just looks down at you bemusedly. In fact, he looks bored, and that infuriates you even more. And on top of everything else, now your hand hurts and you feel your eyes well with tears.

“Aww, did the little baby hurt herself?” Ari teases, patting your cheek condescendingly. You sniffle and try to swat him away but he’s too quick, too strong. You’re helpless, stuck against his big, hard body and the wall behind your back and he knows it as he smirks. “Poor little baby, don’t cry or throw a tantrum. You’ve got my attention now, haven’t you? And that’s what you wanted.”

“No, I didn’t–!”

He cuts you off with a rough kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. Even in your heels, he still has to lift you up so he can kiss you properly without you having to crane your neck too much because of his height. And so he grabs your hips and hoists you up against the wall, your bare legs dangling on either side of him as he consumes you with a kiss that seems riddled in possessiveness. Until you bang your fists on his shoulders enough times for him to pull away.

“How…How dare you kiss me! When your girlfriend’s at the same party!” You accuse, despite the fact that your heart is racing and lips are tingling and you really want him to kiss you again.

Ari shrugs, still looking bored. “She went to the bathroom with a bunch of her girlfriends to fix her makeup or something. And you know how girls are with the bathroom, they’ll stay in there for ages.” He pulls you snug against him, “Gives us a bit of time to have fun, baby.”

“You’re a man-whore, Ari.”

He snorts, “And you’re lucky you still have my attention, baby girl.”

Your jaw drops open, “You’re the one who’s been texting me nonstop since last week!”

“Just so you wouldn’t feel bad.”

You can’t believe him. Huffing, you try to push past him and storm off. Which proves to be impossible considering he’s still got you lifted up against the wall, his leg snug between your thighs. And even if you were in a position to exit the situation, he was way too big and strong and could easily stop you. Ugh. (But not really because that pathetic part of you really is enjoying the attention he’s giving you right now).

“You look so hot tonight, baby girl.” Ari mutters as he starts kissing at you again. First, he tries your lips. But you’re still stubborn, still mad at him and so you turn your head. That’s not a problem for him, his lips pressing down against your cheek, down to your jaw, then your neck. His hands come up to brazenly squeeze your breasts, making you gasp. “This is some dress. Luckily, attention-seeking baby suits you well.”

“Stop callin’ me a baby!”

He gives your ass a hard smack, smirking when you yelp. You thank your lucky stars that it’s too dark and crowded and noisy for anyone around you to notice how indecent he’s being.

“Oh, so you’re a big girl now, huh?”

“Let go of me so I can go have fun with Wanda–” You once more try to elbow him out of the way but of course, he holds you at bay easily.

“Stay put.” He growls, giving your ass another smack. “And answer my question. I asked you if you’re a big girl now.”

You stick your chin up, “Yes, I am.”

The brunet grins wolfishly. And you’re too tipsy to even notice how, but he suddenly conjures up a tiny translucent plastic baggie, waving it in front of your face. Your eyes take a few seconds to focus on the light blue pills sitting inside, shimmering enticingly as the strobe lights land on them. They’ve got designs printed on them, but you’re way too tipsy to decipher what they are.

“If you’re such a big girl, then you’ll have no problem having some of this big girl candy that daddy got specially for you.”

Your heart lurches. Sure, you’re tipsy as hell right now. But you’re certain you know what those pills are… don’t you? And maybe it isn’t the best idea for you to take your first ecstasy pill with only Ari of all people there with you. But what does it matter? When he’s slowly grinding his thigh up between your legs, one of his hands groping all over your body and pressing up your dress?

“I… uh… I dunno, Ari…”

He takes one tablet out before shoving the baggie into his pocket.

“C’mon. Prove you’re a big girl and take one.”

Every sane cell in your body is screaming at you not to, but it seems like you’re not only drunk off alcohol, but also off of his touch and attention.

Ari’s thumb trails across your lower lip, stroking it gently before tipping it open. You watch him, slack-jawed and in awe, as he slowly brings the blue tablet up to his own lips. He holds it between his teeth before he dips his head and catches your lips in a deep kiss, transferring the pill into your mouth. It rests on your tongue for a second before you gather your saliva and swallow it quickly, wanting to prove to him that you were indeed a big girl.

I’ll just let him kiss me for a while and then I’ll leave, you tell yourself, sighing as he peppers butterfly-light kisses all over your neck and shoulder. He pushes the strap of your dress down, much like how Curtis had done earlier. And all you can think about is how good it feels when Ari does it, when he touches you like how no one else could. Not that you’d ever had anyone else – since Ari was your first. And you fear that no one else would ever compare…

Suddenly, the strobe lights seem so bright, so close. The music feels like it’s coming out from inside you, like The Weeknd is literally belting out his sexy lyrics from inside you. The lights hit Ari’s face, making him look so big and bright, shiny like a diamond. And so close, so sexy. God, he’s so sexy… And you feel sexy too, like the sexiest person in this room, in your sexy red dress with this giant of a man in front of you.

“Wanna kiss you, daddy.”

He smirks against the nape of your neck before straightening up, “Kiss me, then.”

You try, but he’s too tall. Fuck, you really want to kiss him all of a sudden.

“Can’t. I’m too small.” But you don’t feel small. Just the opposite, actually. You feel like you’re on top of the world, like you’re the most beautiful, most incredible person in this universe. You wind your arms around his neck, “Lift me up. Wanna kiss you.”

He’s already got you propped up with his knee jammed between your legs, but for once he makes no smart comment. He wraps his huge hands around your waist and lifting you up. And it feels like you’re as high as the empire state building. No, the moon! Your heart’s soaring and so is your head, your body’s buzzing, the music’s switched up to something even more sexy, and that’s when you kiss him.

“Good girl,” he praises against your lips, but all you can focus on is how good it feels to have his lips on yours, how good it feels that his hands are back on your body, touching you everywhere. “You’re such a good little girl, you know that?”

“Better than Sharon?”

“Of course, baby girl. I don’t care about Sharon. Only you.”

Firmly holding you against the wall, he pushes your dress up till the tight material is practically around your waist. And who cares, who cares, who cares?! Not you, not when his hands glide up your bare thighs, spreading them before cupping your pussy through the lace of your panties.

“These are pretty, baby. Did daddy buy you these?”

“No,” you lie. Of course, he’d bought them for you. Ari loved buying you lingerie. Often, he’d have it delivered to your dorm room with a special note telling you to take pictures and send them to him. Sometimes, he’d send other things along with the lingerie. Like once, he’d sent this sex toy – a dildo which was almost as big as his dick. And there was a note too, ordering you to put on the lingerie and facetime him immediately. He’d made you fuck yourself on the dildo repeatedly that night, all while you thanked daddy over and over again for your new toy and lingerie set. All while he sat in the comfort of his own dorm room, smoking a cigarette with a smirk on his face, casually pumping his dick and getting off on your humiliation and total submission. Well, you got off on it too.

Now, it only takes a tug of his wrist and your panties are slipping down your legs. They get caught in your heels and you impatiently shake them off, watching the lace as it lays on the ground. That’s when you feel a rush of air against your bare pussy, now only concealed by the flimsy material of your dress.

“God, Levinson, she looks wasted as fuck!”

You vaguely hear someone say that, but you feel like you are lightyears away from everyone else. As if you and Ari are on your very own planet where only the two of you matter.

As if on cue, Ari presses his clothed crotch against your bare pussy, grinding the denim up and down while you pant in his arms. God, you want him so bad.

“Bad little baby, you got my jeans all wet in the middle of a party.” Ari scolds. But you pay him no heed, instead busying yourself with kissing up his collarbone and smelling his manly cologne, feeling his muscles that ripple through his shirt.

“You’re so big and strong,” you murmur, saying exactly what you’re thinking like you have no filter.

Ari puffs his chest out, “I am, aren’t I? Especially compared to a little baby girl like you.” He drives his crotch against your bare pussy once more, lewdly grinding against you till the denim is soaking wet. And oh, the rough material feels so good against your clit, so good that you don’t even care that he’s dry humping you in the middle of a party with so many people around you.

His hand slips up to grab your hair, and he yanks you up roughly so he can put his lips to your ear, “You’re my little baby princess, aren’t you?”

A shiver runs down your spine. You like the sound of that.

“Y-Yeah, I am!”

“You like how much bigger I am than you?” He licks the shell of your ear.

“Ah – yes!”

“And you’ll do anything I tell you, won’t you? Because you’re just a baby and you need daddy to guide you. Right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You rut against him desperately, hoping he’ll carry you up to a bedroom and fuck you hard. It’s not like you’d be able to walk by yourself. Hell, you can’t even stand by yourself right now, which was why he was holding you up like you were a ragdoll. In the midst of a sea of people, but all you can focus on is Ari. And how high you feel, like you’re as light as a feather, as free as a bird who welcomes the cage of his grip.

You watch as he undoes his fly, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head at how brazenly he does it – in a room full of people, no less! But you lick your lips, feeling your pussy clench at how fat and thick his cock looks under the pulsating lights. God, he was so big everywhere!

“So if I tell you that daddy wants to fuck his little girl in front of everyone right now, you’d say yes, wouldn’t you?”

You lick your lips, lust pulsing through every vein in your body. You’re already humping against him like a wanton whore, loving the feel of his bare cock gliding against your slippery slit in a room full of people.

“M-Maybe we can we go upstairs, daddy?”

“No. Here. C’mon, baby, you know you want to.” He nibbles on your ear, “I’ll make you my girlfriend if you do this for me.”

Your heart lifts, your mind feeling euphoric at the idea of that. And you believe him, of course you believe him! How could you not, when you’re feeling so on top of the world right now? Heart beating so fast, blood pumping even faster… And he said he’d make you his girlfriend! Oh, you wanted that so badly! You’d do anything to be his girlfriend, anything at all…

“O-Okay, daddy, I guess you can– AH, FUCK!”

He pistons his dick inside you in one quick movement, holding your hips firmly in place so you don’t fall over from the sheer force of him forcing his fat dick into your tiny, leaking hole. God, he was so big. You’d never get used to it.

“Good baby,” he smirks. There are waves of people around you – an entire crowd of sweaty, writhing bodies. But all you can feel is Ari, his cock so big and imposing yet your pussy swallows him readily as he bottoms out inside you. Grabbing your face, he kisses you possessively, and you can feel his cocky smirk through the kiss, “fuck yeah, just as tight as always. God, I missed my little pussy.”

Being fucked by Ari in the middle of the dancefloor of a frat party, drunk and high off your mind while his girlfriend was somewhere in this house. It wasn’t how you’d planned your night to go at all, but you cling to Ari like a koala, allowing him to control your body and take pleasure from you. You can hear him groaning as he fucks you slowly, trying to cover your body completely with his. You can hear him grimace, mutter how fucking tight you are as he tries to hold back from tearing your pussy apart like how he usually does when the two of you are alone.

“Not such a big girl now, are you?” he mocks, biting at your bottom lip and sucking on it as his dick drives slowly in and out of you. “Getting fucked in the middle of a party because you can’t ever say no to me, huh?”

“Nngh, Ari please. F-Feel so full,” you moan, never wanting him to stop. Maybe you’d regret this later, but right now it’s like you’re in a bubble of pleasure that has you ignoring the real world around you.

“And the fact that you thought you could make me jealous by talking to Curtis,” Ari huffs, giving you a particularly hard thrust that sends you reeling, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs. “What a pathetic little game you played, baby. But I’ll never get jealous, because I already know I own you. And you know it too. I own your fucking pussy.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You gasp, feeling him so deep inside you, it’s like he’s practically in your womb. You wrap your legs tighter around him, grinding your clit against his hairy abdomen. The sensation feels heavenly, and you’re so, so close…

“Promise me you’ll never fucking speak to Curtis again,” he demands.

“Fuck me harder, daddy–OW!”

He slaps your ass hard, and you reel into him, shocked at the blow. You’d have fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up in his muscular arms.

“Fucking say you’ll never speak to Curtis again,” Ari says through gritted teeth, and his fingers wrap around your throat. Your breath hitches, eyes widening. But your pussy squeezes around his dick at the same time his hand squeezes your throat, “Say it or I’ll choke you the fuck out.”

Fear splices through the euphoria you’re feeling, but his hand constricting around your throat, him controlling your breathing – it turns you on so fucking much at the same time. But his eyes look so dark, darker than you’ve ever seen them. Is it because he’s high too? Or is it something else entirely?

“W-Won’t talk to him,” you promise, barely getting the words out.

Ari smiles and releases your throat, and you desperately gasp for breath. But when he kisses you again, you can’t help but hungrily kiss him back.

“I own you,” he repeats, slipping his hand down to play with your clit, pushing your dress up in the process. You’re high out of your mind and yet you still try to push the hem of your dress back down, only for him to slap your hands away. “Don’t hide this baby pussy from me, sweetheart.”

“E-Everyone can see,” you moan, breath hitching when he pinches your clit harshly before rubbing circles on it.

“Let them watch, baby.”

As if on cue, you hear someone whistle:

“You’re a fucking dog, Levinson! Can’t even wait to find a room to get your dick wet, huh?”

“She looks high off her ass, bro. Classic Levinson.”

Ari only laughs, continuing to fuck you and make out with you in the middle of the party as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be doing. And if he’s okay with it, then it must be okay, right?

“This is what happens when you come to a party trying to be an attention-seeker,” he tells you, his fingers leaving your clit as he brings them up to his mouth, sucking noisily, “fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart. Your little baby pussy’s been wet for me all night, huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you say dutifully, meeting his thrusts now as you feel yourself getting close. You continue grinding your clit on his hairy abs as he fucks you, the sensation so heavenly as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, blabbering out your inner thoughts: “I…I think about you all the time, want you all the time. Wish you were with me all the time….”

“Mm, it gets you all wet, doesn’t it? Fucking a man who’s got a girlfriend?”

You gasp, but your walls clench around him all the same.

“Mm, I felt that, you slutty little baby,” Ari smacks your ass again, rocking his hips hard against you as you cry from the pleasure, “It turns you on that I have a girlfriend and yet I’m here with you, fucking you in front of all these people like you’re my personal fucking whore.”

“Ari, I’m so close, I–”

“Bet you wish she was watching us, huh?” He says suddenly, “I bet that would get you off, wouldn’t it, you dirty little slut?”

“Nooo,” you moan, but you can feel thrills rippling through your body, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as the music drones on all around you.

Ari licks his lips like he’s the devil himself, “Don’t fucking lie to me, sweetheart. I bet you wish Sharon was here, watching me fuck you.” His eyes glint wickedly, “Bet you wish she was getting herself off to us, don’t you? Fingering herself while she watches her boyfriend cheat on her with a slutty little girl like you.”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mm, and what would you do? Cry your little baby tears and beg for her forgiveness?” Ari chuckles lowly, and you can’t believe you’re on the brink of orgasm and about to lose it and he’s just there, calm as ever as he fucks you in this room full of people. Forcing his big, fat cock inside you with a smirk on his face as if he owns the whole room. “You’d beg for my girlfriend’s forgiveness while you take my fat fucking cock inside your sexy little pussy. And she’d watch us, watch me call you a bad fucking girl while I fuck you so hard that I’d probably knock you up. And I’ve never fucked her like that, baby. I would never fuck her like that. Only you.”

“Daddy, please,” you sob and sob, clutching at his shirt because you feel so overwhelmed.

He grabs your face roughly, making you look at him.

“And you’d watch her rub her pussy as she watches us fuck, wouldn’t you? And she’d cum all over her fingers, watching her boyfriend fuck the living daylights out of you, watching you be a helpless little slut for your daddy. And you’d love every second of it, baby. Because you’re fucking sick, just like me…”

Your orgasm is earth-shattering, breaking your body apart as you squirt all over his huge fucking dick. And he fucks you through it, coaxing your cream out of you as you cry and cry, any sound you make getting drowned out by the blaring music, any thrashing movement blurred by the dancing bodies around you. Some of them know what’s going on, you know they do. But others don’t, lost in their own world as they dance around the two of you. And waves of searing pleasure overtake your body, over and over again as you grind up against him.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Ari grunts, “cum on my daddy dick like the good little baby you are. God, fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good, baby, feels so tight and sexy. Gimme another one.”

You cum again, as if your body is programmed to listen to him, as if just his words can make you orgasm. And that’s when he blows his load, muttering a string of curses as he empties himself inside you. He always came inside you, no matter what. And you guessed that he wasn’t going to stop that streak now, even in the midst of a crowded party. One or two guys are ogling at the two of you, but you’re too fucked out to care, your spent body sagging against Ari’s huge frame as he fills you up with his hot cum.

Everything is blurry for a while after that. You’re on the brink of passing out – not even from the copious amounts of drugs and alcohol in your system, but from how fucked out you feel. But you jolt out of it when Ari pulls out of you, whining needily but he ignores you. Instead, he pulls your dress back down over your ass, and you can feel his hot cum trickling down your thigh.

“How was she, Levinson?” Some guy pipes up from within the crowd.

“Move along, smartass.” Ari glares daggers at the random guy, flipping him off as he shields your body with his bigger one. But there are more guys surrounding you, more people beginning to notice what exactly is going on. Ari seems to catch on to this too, shooting dirty looks all around him as he tries to tug your short dress down even further to cover you more, as if he was fuelled by horniness before but now that he’s come down from that high, he’s hyperaware of everyone around you.

“Can’t feel my legs, daddy,” you lean heavily against him.

He picks you back up, carrying you through the crowd. You can vaguely hear the voices of other boys over the loud, pounding music. Thumping Ari on the back, congratulating him. You hide your face in his chest, trying not to think about what’s just happened. He takes you up the stairs, through random corridors, into an empty bedroom, and finally, a bathroom.

“Fuck, baby, you okay?” He asks after setting you down on the sink.

“I’m good,” you grab at him, trying to wrap your legs around him and pull him into you. You can still feel the effects of the little blue pill, and you try to kiss him but he pulls away, chuckling.

“We need to clean you up.”

Funny. He never cleaned you up before. In the past, he’d always fuck you hard and good and then leave you to get yourself together while he typed away on his phone or went outside to smoke. Then, he’d either come back inside to fuck you again, or he’d give you a quick kiss and leave, telling you he was late for practice or something along those lines. But right now, it looks like he was sticking around, and that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I can’t believe I just let you fuck me in front of everyone. It almost doesn’t feel real!” You muse out loud, wondering maybe it was all just a dream, because you feel so hazy and warm. You swing your heel clad feet, accidentally catching him in the stomach. He shoots you a warning look, grabbing your calves to still you before his expression relaxes.

“It’s what you deserved for ignoring my texts.” He smirks before grabbing a wad of toilet paper. He wets some of it under the tap and swipes at your thighs, cleaning his cum off you. You bite your lip, watching his tanned biceps ripple as he gets dangerously close to your pussy. You grab his wrist, pushing it between your legs.

“I think you missed a spot, daddy,” you say in what you hope is a demure and sexy manner.

Ari groans, “Don’t tempt me, baby girl.”

He feels around your folds, licking his lips as he plays with the mess he’s left in your pussy. But you whine after a while, clearly too sensitive for round two so you push his hand away.

“Lemme feel you,” he persists.

“Nuh uh, too sensitive.”

He rolls his eyes and you giggle, reaching out to smooth his long hair, twining a few strands around your finger. You stay like that for a while, liking how he looks at you in the privacy of this bathroom, where the music from outside is still thumping softly and yet it feels like the two of you are in your own bubble. Where the dull orange light makes him look double handsome, and it’s just the two of you and you can pretend he’s your boyfriend and you’re a happy couple and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Until Ari’s hand slips down between your legs again.

“Hey!” You squeal, batting him off, but he doesn’t relent.

“Let daddy feel you one more time, baby girl,” he tries to sweet talk you, but you shake your head, pushing him away again. That’s when he gets a glint in his eye, digging his fingers into your ribs instead. You squeal as he tickles you, and you try to do it back but clearly, he isn’t as ticklish as you because he just shoots you an amused look. You laugh and laugh, till you can’t breathe and even he chuckles, his face pink.

“Ari, will I be your girlfriend now?” You ask in a small voice once you’ve stopped laughing.

A pause. And then he sighs.

“Baby, we already have a good thing going–”

“So then why can’t we go out on dates and do all the romantic things that boyfriends and girlfriends do?” Your lower lip wobbles but you will yourself to remain calm and collected.

“You know why.” Ari avoids your gaze, backing up and gathering all the toilet paper he’s just used. He stuffs it into the bin before washing his hands, and the whole time you look at him, waiting for him to elaborate except he says nothing more.

“B-But I let you fuck me in front of everyone,” you scrunch your eyes shut to keep your tears at bay, “I let you do anything to me, Ari. And you keep telling me that you’ll make me your girlfriend but it never happens. An’ I trust you more than anything even though you keep lying to me, and–”

He clears his throat, running his hands through his hair before he reaches out as if to cup your face. But at the last second he holds back, fists curled to his sides. “Don’t do this right now. Look, I’ll get you some water to sober you up, then you can call your friend Carla–”

“Her name is Wanda.”

“Call your friend Wanda, and maybe she can take you home. You’re completely wasted.” He can’t help but reach out, fixing the strap of your dress which you hadn’t even noticed had slipped down your shoulder. God, you were a mess. A complete and utter mess and he’d used you again and now he wanted nothing to do with you. His fingers linger, brushing against your bare shoulder before he snatches his hand back and clears his throat once more.

“Is it because I’m not good enough?” A lone tear drips down your cheek. And it’s crazy because not even a minute ago you were laughing your ass off.

“No–”

“Then why does it feel like you’re using me?”

No one speaks for several seconds. All you can hear is your own breathing, how you hiccup every now and then. How your head is beginning to pound and how all your emotion seem amplified. You know it’s because you’re drunk, and yet you’re hoping you may get something sincere from him in this bathroom right now…

But Ari only shakes his head, keeping his eyes trained somewhere beyond your shoulder, as if he can’t seem to look you in the eye…

“Now’s not the time to talk about this–”

“You lie to me all the time, Ari, and you always take me for granted. An’ I fall for it every time because I wanna be your girlfriend so bad…” Your voice falters, lip curling and tears welling in your eyes, “I really, really like you, Ari. Don’t you like me too? Enough to make me your girlfriend?”

“I already have a girlfriend…” He blurts out.

His words hit you like shards of glass, piercing you from the inside out. You feel like you’re falling, and even Ari looks guilty, as if he can’t believe he’s just said that so abruptly. He’s always come up with a story when it comes to his relationship; “we broke up,” or “we’re having problems,” or “she’s a bitch, I don’t care about her.” But it seems like now, he’s really just laying it all out on the table. She’s his girlfriend. And she always would be.

You bow your head, feeling like a veil’s lifted somewhere between the two of you. “I guess that just makes me the girl you keep around for easy sex.”

“You know it’s more than that, baby–”

His phone rings at that exact moment, cutting him off. But he looks relieved to be interrupted, and hastily fishes it out of his pocket. You sigh, staring down dejectedly into your lap. He keeps his voice low as he talks on the phone, but you catch a few words here and there, like “Sharon,” and “she’s looking for you.”

“Baby, I gotta go. But I want you to stay in here until you’re sober enough to go find your friend.” Ari says, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Y-You’re leaving?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

Another tear trickles down your cheek.

“Please stay with me. I don’t wanna be alone right now.” He’s left you after sex many times before, but this time feels different. You feel vulnerable, small, afraid. Little you in this big party where you’d only feel safe if you were with him. God, it felt so special whenever it was just you and him alone together. Like right now, in the bathroom, where he’d carried you up in his arms, cleaned you himself and laughed while he tickled you. Oh, it felt so special to you! Could he not feel that too? Why did he want to leave?

Ari inhales deeply, “Don’t, okay? You know I can’t stay. Sharon… She’s making a scene. She’s really drunk, people are starting to notice I’m not there with her–”

“I’m really drunk too.” And high.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “That’s why you’re getting so emotional, okay? Just… Just call Wanda. Or one of your other friends.”

His words sting, and you know you should just back off. Let him do whatever the fuck he wants to do since clearly all he wanted was to get away from you. But neediness and sorrow clouds your brain and covers your heart, and in a last ditch effort, you reach out to grab his hand.

“Please stay,” you beg, and you feel like you’ve swallowed your pride but you don’t even care anymore, “Please, Ari. Y-You don’t have to make me your girlfriend, okay? I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, just stay with me. Don’t leave me alone, please, please, please–”

“Stop,” he says gently, peeling your hand off of his, “don’t make this bigger than it is. We hooked up like we always do, but I need to go now, okay? I’ll text you later.”

He backs away, pausing at the door. Hope fills your heart, and you wait with bated breath. But then he leaves, walking out casually like all he’s done is use the bathroom. And you sit there, his rejection like poison in your veins. Frozen, drunk, sad, dejected. Oh God, had you really expected him to stay? To be different this time? How many more times were you going to let him lie to you, disrespect you, embarrass you, play you?

How many more times till he broke you completely?

***

“C’mon, Wanda, pick the fuck up.” You mutter, jabbing at your phone in annoyance. The screen freezes for several seconds, before your call goes to her voice message. For the fourth time in a row. You bite your lip, daring to check your battery. Five percent. Great. Just Great.

After Ari had left you in the bathroom, all you’d wanted to do was curl up in the bathtub and cry the whole night away. And that’s what you’d been doing for at least an hour, until some horny couple barged in and started having sex against the sink. You’drun out of there in a hurry, and now here you were at the front of the frat house, wanting nothing more than to go home.

“Where the hell are you, Wanda?” You murmur, calling her again and praying to God your phone battery lasts until you find her. You were still drunk and not exactly capable of combing through the crowd of people in search of your friend. When she doesn’t pick up again, you feel a helplessness take over your body, like it had back in the bathroom. All you want to do is collapse down on the grass and cry like a baby, but you will yourself to persevere before you try calling her again.

“Excuse me, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

The voice is deep and rumbling, with an undertone of amusement. You don’t even bother looking up from your phone, your eyes too busy staring down your battery percentage as it lowers down to three percent.

“I’m fine,” you say distractedly, trying to walk further away from the frat house in hopes of getting better signal. “I’m just trying to call my friend so we can go ho–”

Your heel catches against a rock on the grass, sending you flying. You brace yourself for the fall but it never comes. Instead, you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist, catching you and pulling you back till you collide against a hard chest.

“Careful, baby,” the amused voice murmurs in your ear.

“Oh, um, thank you, uh–” You straighten up and turn around to face the stranger who’d saved you, finding yourself face to face with a built looking chest wearing an off-white t-shirt and varsity jacket. You crane your neck upwards, breath catching in your throat at what you see.

The stranger is tall and blonde, his pale skin shimmering in the moonlight (probably because you’re drunk because that’s what it looked like). His muscles ripple under his shirt, and he runs his hand through his hair in a way that’s all too familiar. His blue eyes sparkle as he smiles down at you, his arms still around your waist as if to hold you steady.

“Wow,” you say dumbly. He was handsome!

He smirks down at you, “Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t quite catch that?” He had an effortless way of speaking, like a relaxed drawl as if he was far removed from all the craziness of the party going on around him.

“I – uh – I said thanks,” you babble, “thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

You tell him, trying to keep your words from slurring because of the damned alcohol still pumping in your system. You’re acutely aware of his arms still around you, and the fact that your heart is beating fast and hard as you look up at him almost in awe. In your inebriated state, his pale colouring made it look like there was a halo around him (either that or a streetlight was shining directly at him), but it made him look almost angelically handsome.

“I’m Steve.” He says, confidently reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s a cute little thing like you doing out by yourself so late at night?”

You stick your chin up indignantly, “Not by myself! I’m looking for Wanda!”

“Who’s that, sweetheart?”

“My best friend.”

“Well, she isn’t much of a best friend if she left you all alone at this party, is she?”

Steve cocks his head to the side, a crooked smile on his face that’s so attractive it makes you swoon inwardly, despite what he was implying.

“She didn’t leave me, Steve! She’s just…” you helplessly scan through the groups of people that have spilled out into the front yard of the frat house, “she’s around here somewhere…” Your eyes suddenly snap back over to the blonde, suspicion overtaking you. Who exactly was this guy, and where had he just appeared from, looking all handsome and angelic?

“Do you…uh…do you go to St. Andrews’ too?” You hardly know everyone on campus, seeing as your college is massive and there’s way too many people that go there. But you’re sure you’d remember seeing someone as handsome as him.

“Nope, I go to St. Jude’s.”

Oh. The enemy college. At least according to Ari (who was the main source of most of your information since he knew everything). Ari hated St Jude’s’ basketball team, as they were the main rivals of his own basketball team. You weren’t much into sports or any of that (you only attended Ari’s basketball games to look cute and get his attention), but you suddenly recognise St. Jude’s distinctive blue and white coloured varsity jacket that Steve has on. It resembles Ari’s varsity jacket – which is red and gold for St. Andrew’s.

“What’re you doing here, then?” You ask.

Steve shrugs, “Me and my buddies come to your parties every now and then…” he nods at two other guys in similar varsity jackets. They stand across the lawn from the two of you, talking to a bunch of girls. You look at them for a few seconds before Steve clears his throat, as if he wants you to look at him and him only.

“I think the real question is, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

You frown, “What do you mean?”

“What’s a baby like you doing all alone at a frat house this late?” His thumb strokes your bare arm, his other hand still firm on your waist. “You’re too cute and innocent for a party like this, the frat boys will eat you alive.”

His eyes glint as he says it, but you presume that’s just you imagining things because you’re drunk.

“Well actually, I’m not a baby and I wasn’t alone,” you try not to hyper-focus on his thumb circling against your skin, “I was with Wanda, and then I was with Ari, and then–”

Steve’s grip tightens, “Ari?”

“Yeah, Ari. He’s my boyfr– Well no, actually he’s my nothing. He’s no one…” you sigh sadly, “I’m no one to him and he’s no one to me…He made that pretty clear tonight.”

The blonde whistles lowly, his hand still rubbing soothingly up and down your arm. And you kind of don’t want him to stop, because he feels so warm and he’s making you feel warm and it’s making you hurt a teensy bit less.

“A pretty little girl like you doesn’t deserve to get her heart broken like that,” Steve comments, “and you don’t deserve to be left alone to cry by yourself either.”

“W-Wasn’t crying!” you lie. God, he was making you sound so pathetic.

He weaves you through the crowd, his grip on you tight as he walks you over to a more secluded area of the front yard. With less people around, his arms catch around your waist and he yanks you closer to him, till you’re flush against his chest, your eyes wide as you look up at him and swallow hard.

“My point still stands,” he says, his voice so confident and velvety smooth. “Now, if you were my girl, you wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside a party like this, let alone be left unattended.”

A thrill ripples down your spine, but you barely have time to acknowledge it before you feel a rough grip on your wrist, yanking you away from Steve with heavy force.

“What the hell is this?!” Ari growls, pushing you behind his own body before he squares up to Steve. You gape over at both men, looking from one to the other. Ari was the biggest guy you knew, but Steve matched him in both height and stature. Head-to-head, the two men stare the other down, almost as if they already know each other. Side by side, you notice they look kind of similar. Both of them were tall and bulky, with vivid blue eyes. But Steve was angelically blonde and pale, and Ari was tanner, rougher, darker. Steve looked calm, unperturbed by the interruption – but Ari looked pissed off beyond belief.

“What are you doing here, Rogers?” He seethes.

Steve smirks, “I wasn’t aware that you owned this frat house, Ari.”

“Cut the bullshit. You know you’re not welcome here. Just because your own college parties are filled with ugly sluts doesn’t mean you have to come to mine.”

“Yours? And who exactly put you in charge?”

Steve steps closer as if to challenge Ari, but Ari just glowers at him before shaking his head.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Steve. But she’s off limits. Everyone here knows she’s mine.” Ari’s still got your wrist in a death-grip, and you wince in pain when he squeezes even tighter.

“Lemme go, Ari!” You try to fight against his hold but to no avail.

The blonde snorts, “Oh yeah, it really looks like she’s yours, Levinson.”

“Fuck off.”

“I know what your girlfriend looks like, asshole. I know it’s not her.” Steve’s still got that smirk on his face, and you can see Ari’s face going redder and redder. God, he was really getting to him! And they did in fact know each other!

Ari pointedly turns his back to Steve as if to shut him out of the conversation. Instead, he looks at you. “Baby, why are you still here? It’s getting really late, let me call you an Uber.”

Baby? Was he serious? After he’d left you alone in the bathroom even after you’d begged and pleaded with him to stay with you?!

You feel a surge of anger, “No! Don’t want you to call me anything, Ari! Just leave me alone, I can get home by myself.”

He frowns, “You’re still drunk. I’m gonna call you a–”

“Where’s Sharon, Levinson?” Steve pipes up from behind in an amused tone, as if this is all an evening’s worth of entertainment to him. “That’s her name, right? Your actual girlfriend?”

Ari whips around with lightning speed. Your heart jumps to your throat as the brunet lunges forward, grabbing Steve by the collar and getting all up in his face, “If you don’t shut the fuck up–”

“Or what, huh, Levinson?”

The brunet lowers his voice, “You know damn well I can beat your ass off court just as much as I can in court.”

Steve scoffs, “You beat my team, not me.”

Oh, so Steve was a basketball player too. He and Ari had played against each other.

Ari barks out a laugh, “Oh yeah, I forgot you got benched in the last game. Can’t seem to keep that temper in check, can you?”

The blonde shrugs, “I don’t know, Levinson. Seems like you’re the one who’s getting all worked up right now.”

“Go to hell, asshole–”

“BABY, THERE YOU ARE!”

Sharon stumbles up to where the three of you are standing, her dress riding high, heels in her hand and hair a mess. She’s even drunker than you are, and yet she still looks beautiful – in a dishevelled sort of way. Like Serena Van Der Woodsen, with her blonde hair so perfectly tangled. She looks tall and somehow still graceful despite how she all but falls on top of Ari, who lets go of Steve’s collar as he holds her up.

“Thought I lost you again,” she giggles, planting her lips on his. You blanch and look away, feeling like someone’s put your heart in a shredder. You almost don’t notice Steve grabbing you around the waist and pulling you back into him. Sharon continues to kiss Ari, making out with him except he keeps turning his head – but she’s too drunk to notice. “Babe, could you please take me home? I’m tired.”

Ari grimaces, “Sure. Why don’t you go wait by the car and I’ll be over when I’m ready?”

Sharon blinks, “What car?”

“My car.”

“What does it look like?”

Ari groans. Steve laughs. Sharon looks confused. And you hope the ground would swallow you whole so you wouldn’t have to witness the happy couple together right in front of your face.

“Sharon, just go wait somewhere else while I–”

“Are you guys a couple?” Sharon cuts him off, finally acknowledging you and Steve. “You look totally cute together if you are.”

“They’re not a couple.” Ari seethes, his blue eyes narrowing at Steve’s hands on your waist. “Let go of her, asshole.” he says quietly (not that Sharon would have even noticed). Steve ignores his, pretending he didn’t hear him.

“I, uh, I have to go,” you mumble, unable to stand being in their presence even a second longer. Sharon’s gone back to sloppily kissing up Ari’s jaw, and you just can’t take it. His words from earlier keep ringing through your ears: “I already have a girlfriend,” “I already have a girlfriend,” “I already have a girlfriend.”

You take your phone out, ready to call an Uber and be done with this night. You’d go home and charge your phone and try to reach Wanda from there. But just as you’re about to type in your address on the app, your screen goes black. Dead. Great. Fucking great.

“Oh no,” you whisper softly in dismay.

Ari’s already got his own phone out, typing away and presumably calling you an Uber whilst simultaneously trying to keep Sharon upright and at bay.

“I’ll take you home.” Steve volunteers.

“The hell you will,” Ari sneers, “Back the fuck off, Rogers, I’m calling her an Uber.” He looks like he wants to say more, his gaze still locked on the way Steve is holding you. But he can’t, of course he can’t… not with her here.

“Babe, I don’t feel well,” Sharon moans suddenly. Her face looks slightly green, and she’s stopped kissing Ari now.

“Just give me a second,” He tells her distractedly.

“Maybe you should worry about getting your own girlfriend home first, Levinson.” Steve says smugly before turning to you, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Ari’s eyes fix on yours, “Don’t go with him.”

You almost do obey. Because you always obey Ari. He’s told you in the past, warned you that you always have to do what he says because he’s your daddy and he’s in charge. But… But what about how you’d begged him to stay earlier, and he hadn’t? Now was your chance to do the same thing to him, give him a taste of his own medicine. That, and you also can’t stand to be in close vicinity of him and Sharon right now, or else you’d burst into tears again.

Pointedly avoiding Ari’s gaze, you look up at Steve instead, “O-Okay. Let’s go.”

The blonde tugs you along with him, and you purposely drown Ari out as Steve leads you away. And part of you wants Ari to follow, to push Sharon away and come after you, rip you out of Steve’s grip and take you home himself. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. You don’t dare look back, knowing the happy couple is probably making out again, and you’ve already been forgotten.

“He’s such an asshole!” You burst out, “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

Steve chuckles, “He’s an asshole, alright.”

“He really is! Hate how he treats me, an’ how I keep giving him chances. He just hurts me again and again and again and–”

“Let’s get you home, baby,” the blonde interrupts, getting his phone out.

You wait a handful of seconds, swaying in your heels but liking how he’s got his hand firmly on your lower back to keep you steady. You look up at him expectantly, “Well, aren’t you gonna ask for my address?”

“What?”

“My address, silly! How else am I gonna get home?”

He blinks, before slowly handing you his phone. You miss the glint in his eye, however, and how his lip curls up subtly in… disappointment? “Oh yeah. How stupid of me to forget.”

You type your address in on his Uber app and click accept before beaming up at him, “Thank you so much, Steve. It really means a lot to me, I honestly don’t know how else I would’ve got home! But don’t worry, I’ll pay you back! We’ll split the cost in half, and–”

He presses his finger to your lips, effectively shushing you before he shoots you that charming lop-sided smile of his, making your insides melt. “You don’t need to pay me back, sweetheart. What kind of a guy would I be if I took money from a little baby like you?”

You blink, feeling an extreme sense of dejavu. He sounded exactly like… Ari. Ari never let you pay for anything ever. Well, Ari never really took you out anywhere in public, but the two of you would always order takeout whenever he came over to your dorm room. And he’d never skimp out either, ordering from fancy places like Nobu because he said you were his baby and he wanted the best for you. And whenever you tried to pay your share, he’d just snort and push your hand away, “What kind of a guy would I be if I took money from a helpless little baby like you?”

The reminder of Ari has a ton of different emotions washing over you all over again. Sadness, jealousy, anger…. You shake your poor drunken, muddled head, “Oh, I hate Ari so much, Steve! He’s heartless, and he–”

You’re still going on and on by the time the Uber arrives. And you’re so into your tirade, that you don’t even notice Steve’s arms going around you again, holding you tight against him as if he owns you. You don’t notice how his hands wander, how he rubs the bare skin of your arms, the small of your back, going lower and lower. His fingers playing with the short hem of your dress…

You do notice him slip cash into the driver’s hand… Probably the tip, you presume, too drunk to care.

Your mind wanders to Ari again during the ride home. You sit in the backseat with Steve, staring out the window gloomily as you think about how he broke your heart. Oh, how could you have been so stupid? So gullible? So innocent? You’d never let anyone take advantage of you like that again…

“You okay?” Steve asks, pressing his hand on your thigh.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m just thinkin’ about how much I hate Ari, and–”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been listening to you complain about Ari for the past ten minutes straight. Don’t mention him again.”

He says it softly, calmly, and yet you shut your mouth and straighten up. Despite being drunk, you can detect the seriousness of his tone, and a hint of a threat too. Which you’re probably imagining because why would Steve threaten you? He was so sweet! Wasn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say softly, relaxing once he shoots you a smile.

The drive continues, and Steve’s hand remains on your bare thigh, squeezing every now and again. You don’t mind, his touch helping you feel grounded. You’re still so drunk and probably high too, from that damned stupid pill Ari had given you. No, no, no! You scrunch your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him.

“Baby, why don’t you come sit on my lap?” Steve says suddenly.

You whip your head in his direction, “Wh-What?”

“The Uber driver just told me the backseat is really dirty, and you’re in a dress, so I think you’d better sit on me.”

You glance at the driver, who looks straight ahead at the road, not batting an eye or saying a single word. You’re too drunk to argue, and so you just nod. Steve grabs you by the waist, easily lifting you up and placing you on his lap. You can’t help but welcome his warmth, shivering in your skimpy little dress as you wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. He notices, immediately shrugging off his varsity jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“There. Nice and warm now?”

You smile up at him gratefully, “Yeah! Thanks so much, Steve!” You try not to ogle at his biceps.

“You look cute in my jacket,” Steve chucks you under the chin, “It’s huge on you.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re huge,” you blurt out, before your eyes widen.

“And you’re just tiny.” He quips, pulling you closer.

This was weird, right? You’d only just met him a mere twenty minutes ago, and now you were already in a car with him? In his lap, no less? But you could trust Steve, right? He was nice enough to give you a lift home when he didn’t even know you, and he didn’t want you to touch the dirty backseat either. And he’d given you his jacket so you’d stay warm. All of those looked like green flags to you. Unlike dumb stupid Ari, who was one red flag after another!

The car hits a snag on the road, causing you to bounce inadvertently in his lap. Steve groans as if he’s in pain, and you shoot him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Stevie. That was an accident.”

He smirks, “Stevie?”

Heat spreads across your cheeks, unaware that you’ve said it out loud… But it’s a cute nickname nonetheless, and so you just shrug awkwardly, a sheepish smile on your face.

Steve’s hand rubs up and down your back soothingly, “It’s a long way till your house, baby. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You nod, “Well, I’m a freshman at St. Andrews’ College, and…and…” your voice drifts off as you notice how close you are to him, how you can see the freckles and beauty marks on his face, how deep his blue eyes are up close. So much like Ari’s…

Steve licks his lips, “How does a little freshman like you get mixed up with an asshole like Ari Levinson?”

Oh God, where do you even begin? Instead, you shake your head, “I-I thought I wasn’t allowed to mention Ari again?”

“You’re right,” Steve’s eyes twinkle, and he brushes a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You take instructions well, sweetheart, that makes you a good girl.”

You glow at the praise, before the car hits another snag on the road – this time a much bigger one. You bounce on Steve’s lap again, biting your lip when you feel the rough material of his jeans graze against you down there. And that’s when you come to a horrific realisation.

You’re not wearing any panties.

Your mind flashes back to earlier in the night. Ari fucking you in the middle of the dancefloor. Lifting your dress up. Your panties slipping down your legs. You stepping out of them, the lacy thong lying on the floor. That was the last you’d seen it…

You gulp, looking down at Steve’s lap slowly. No, no, no. Oh no… There it is, plain as day… A wet stain on his jeans, directly beneath you. You hear a low groan, and you know he’s seen it too.

“Oh my gosh, Steve, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I–”

“It’s okay,” he breathes, his voice throaty as he grips your hips to hold you in place, “Maybe you should move…”

“Yes, of course, sorry, I’ll just…” You hastily try to get off his lap, but he holds on tight, not allowing you to budge.

“No, baby girl. I mean move like this.” With fluid confidence, he guides your hips over thick, jean-clad thigh. You gasp breathily, hands shaking as they automatically grip his shoulders. Your bare cunt grazes against the rough denim, pleasurable sensations thrumming through your body. Oh God, what were you doing? You glance fearfully at the driver, but he seems to be in his own world, carefully ignoring the two of you from the driver’s seat.

“Stevie, we shouldn’t–”

“Shhh, move again,” he orders, his thumb circling your hip through the thin material of your dress.

“B-But we just met, this isn’t right, we–” But he shushes you again by moving your hips for you. And his hands are so big, gripping you so tight as he moves you over his muscular leg, your cunt catching against the jean material again and making your whole body convulse. You automatically grab at his broad shoulders, feeling overwhelmed and confused yet horny and needy all at once.

Ari wouldn’t like this, your inner voice warns.

“I thought you took instructions well, baby doll.” Steve whispers enticingly in your ear, hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back as if to cajole you into doing what he wanted. “C’mon, move again like how I told you to.”

Your body obeys as if you’ve been wired to, and maybe it’s because you like listening to people or maybe it’s because you’re just plain horny. Either because of Ari’s damned ecstasy pill or because Steve is so handsome and hot and his body is so big and muscular and warm. Oh, you don’t know! But you do roll your hips down against his lap, eyes widening at how good it feels as you both gasp in unison.

“That’s a good girl,” Steve praises, giving you a sweet smile. And you’re so close to him, and he’s so handsome, and his lashes are so long and thick, his jaw so defined, his freckles so pretty…

“You’re so pretty!” You blurt out.

Steve snorts, “And you’re still so fucking drunk.”

“Wha–?”

“Nothing. Move again.” But this time he picks you up, repositioning you so that you’re face to face with him and straddling his crotch, and oh my! He was so hard, so, so hard! You could feel his dick poking through the denim, rubbing against your wet folds! What was even happening right now?! “Baby, this feels good huh? Moving against me like this?”

“Uh… y-yeah, I guess it does.” You answer shyly.

“Good. Then I won’t have to repeat myself after this one last time. Move. Again.” Quick as a wink, his hand leaves your hip, thick fingers curling around your throat instead. He speaks softly yet with authority and a hint of menace, blue eyes almost magically unblinking as he stares you down, “Rub your little baby cunt all over my jeans. You might as well, since you’ve already made a mess.”

SMACK.

You squeak before your jaw drops open. Had he just spanked you? Once more, you look to the driver in the front, but he seems to be determinedly ignoring whatever was going on in the backseat.

Almost as if he’d been paid to do so…

You start to move your hips, letting Steve guide you as you grind down on his clothed crotch. And fuck, it feels heavenly. Your poor clit is throbbing, so needy and desperate as you seek your pleasure, holding on to Steve’s sturdy shoulders.

“Fuck yeah, you’re such a cute little slut aren’t you?” Steve hums into your neck, his teeth grazing against your bare skin, “can’t believe a sweet little angel with a snatch as tight and sexy as yours landed right in my lap. Well, I stole you right from under Levinson’s nose, but that’s not important right now, is it?” He slaps your ass again, his other hand still wrapped around your neck. Not squeezing, just holding it, “Move harder, baby. I’m already letting you use me for your pleasure, so you better do as I say.”

“O-Okay, Stevie,” you pant, not really hearing what he’s saying because the delicious friction is too much for you to handle.

He nips at the nape of your neck, that now familiar glint in his eye, “Call me daddy, sweetheart.”

You gape at him. But you only ever called Ari daddy!

His fingers squeeze around your neck, making it exponentially harder for you to breathe. “Did you hear what I said?” He asks smoothly.

“Y-Yeah,” you barely get the word out.

“Then say it. Say it or I’ll choke you the fuck out.”

“Daddy!” You squeak as he loosens his grip, gulping for air, “D-Daddy, please!”

He smirks, leaning back against the seat as he watches you ride his crotch. You can’t stop now, it feels too good, too sexy. An yet it also almost feels like you’re doing something wrong, like you’re betraying Ari… Except you’re not, you’re not, you’re not! Because Ari already had a girlfriend and it wasn’t you!

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Dry humping your little baby pussy on a guy you’ve just met?” Steve grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward, till his plump pink lips ghost against yours, “You this slutty for all the frat boys, sweetie?”

You shake your head desperately, “N-No, promise I’m not! I’ve only ever been with one guy, ah!” Your poor pussy feels like it’s been rubbed raw, and yet you can’t stop. Your hips are both moving off their own accord, and Steve’s still moving your body lazily on top of his, the fat outline of his dick protruding through his jeans, a wet spot of your juices on top of his crotch. “W-Well, actually, now I’ve been with two, but–oh fuck!”

You whimper pathetically as Steve suddenly bites down on your neck, sucking against the sensitive skin till it breaks. He peppers the broken skin with kisses, and it hurts yet it feels so good. You find your hand slipping up to grab at his short hair, and instinctively you’d been expecting Ari’s long tufts because that was all you were used to. But all you can think about is Steve right now, and how good his huge body feels underneath you as you grind against it.

“And does it feel good, baby? Humping up against a stranger like you’re in heat?” He licks the shell of your ear lewdly, shivers running down your spine before he suddenly thrusts upwards, catching you off-guard. Your pussy clenches, lust pumping through your veins at his words. “Innocent little baby, only ever been with two guys and yet you’re dry humping me like you’re being paid to do it.”

He laughs wickedly, and how could he still look so angelic? The moonlight shines on his face through the window of the car, and one second he’s looking down at you mockingly, before his face morphs into one of lust and want, and he lets out a soft gasp as he grinds up against you. “Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby. Making daddy feel so fuckin’ good, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, daddy, oh fuck, you feel so big,” you whimper with abandon.

Steve snorts, “I’m bigger than you could handle, sweet girl. Your cute little baby pussy would probably start crying if I tried to put my dick inside you right now.”

His dirty talk makes you moan, and you can feel yourself growing more excited. That’s when he starts to fondle you, his hands everywhere on your body, squeezing and rubbing your tits through the thin material of your dress. “God, you’re just a baby, aren’t you?”

“N-No,” you pant, only to earn another smack to your ass.

“Don’t fucking disagree with me,” he hisses, blue eyes blazing before his smirk returns, “You’re a little fuckin’ baby who’s known me all of two seconds and yet you’re horny for my daddy dick, aren’t you? I said, aren’t you?”

“Yes, okay?! Yes!” You cry out, your folds so insanely sensitive from rubbing and rubbing against him, and yet you’re so close. But was it just you, or had Steve’s demeanour changed. Back at the party, he was charming, funny, helpful. And now? Oh, he was still charming, and so devastatingly handsome. But there was a darkness to his angelic quality… Either that or you were imagining things.

“What if I pushed you down and made you ride my fuckin’ shoe instead?” He asks, that devilish glint ever-present in his blue eyes which were dark with lust, “You’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d do anything to cum.”

“Daddy, ‘m so close!” you whine like a baby, clutching his shirt hard in case he did push you to the floor. You didn’t want that at all, and you blink up at him with wide eyes, “D-Don’t push me down, daddy, please! Promise I’ll be good an’ I’ll listen to you! Wanna stay in your lap, please!”

He blinks down at you, chiselled face softening some as he cups your face, his other hand still guiding you as you ride his thigh, “Fuck, you’re cute, aren’t you?”

But then his expression darkens once more, and he reaches down, grabbing the flimsy fabric of your dress. There’s a loud tearing sound and you gasp, jaw dropping as he rips the lower part of your dress clean in half. He smiles, “Keep going, baby. Daddy just wanted to see you better. And look at your baby pussy, look how cute and puffy she is. Bet you’re sore down there, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, but don’t wanna stop! So close!”

He runs his tongue over his plump lips, “I bet you are.”

Reaching down, he makes you gasp out loud when his fingers spread your sopping folds, and fuck, his jeans feel so fucking good now, so much better, so much rougher, oh god, oh god, oh god… And that’s when he takes complete control, grabbing your hips harder and moving you on top of him like you’re a doll. Like you’re his personal fucktoy, and he’s using you for his pleasure as he moves you back and forth on his dick, dragging you up and down on his clothed crotch while he whispers dirtily in your ear.

But it’s when he squeezes your throat again, that you feel your pussy clench doubly hard.

“You like that, huh? Like when daddy gets rough?” Steve chuckles darkly, before squeezing harder. Till he’s well and truly choking you, and you can feel your airway close up, and you well and truly can’t breathe, and it’s agony but it’s so delicious, and he’s dragging you all over his crotch, rutting up against you as you scramble on top of him, and you can’t breathe and you’re about to black out and, and, and…

You come hard, squirting all over his crotch which was already wet from your juices. And your cream keeps on pouring out, your orgasm hitting you so hard. And that’s when he releases your throat, like he’s given you the ability to breathe as a reward for cumming, and he rubs your back soothingly as you sob and squeak in pleasure, his voice all sweet once more, all dripping with honey as he caressed you, “you’re such a good girl, such a good fucking girl, you did so good, baby.”

The rest of the drive home is silent, you feeling fucked out in Steve’s lap, Steve looking smug, and the Uber driver staring straight ahead as if the debauchery that just took place in the backseat of his car had never even happened. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t believe what’s just happened but you’re too exhausted to truly care. All you want is your bed. And sleep.

“Sweetheart, I think we’re here. Is this your building?”

“It is,” you say hoarsely, suddenly feeling too shy to even meet his gaze. And there’s a part of you that feels guilty now that it’s all over, a part of you that keeps thinking about Ari and what he would think about all this. Fuck. You shake your head to clear out all those thoughts until tomorrow, “Thanks for giving me a lift home, Stevie.”

His lop-sided smile returns, almost as if the whole ordeal in the Uber had never even happened, “No worries, baby.”

He helps you out of the car, and your legs feel like complete jelly, but you’re thankful that you can stand upright. You feel a weight on your shoulders, suddenly noticing his varsity jacket is still on you. Blue and white, with his initials “S.G.R.” “Oh, your jacket, Stevie. Here–”

“You keep it.” He cuts you off, his eyes glittering with the reflection of the moon and stars as his lip curls upwards, “Keep it somewhere in your dorm room, somewhere where everyone can see, alright?”

“Okay.” You really don’t have it in you to question his weird request.

He walks you all the way to your dorm room like a perfect gentleman, waits while you rummage through your purse for your keys. Chuckles as he finds them for you and unlocks your door. Pats your ass as he pushes you inside.

But not before pressing a kiss on your cheek and murmuring a quiet, “I’ll see you soon enough, baby.”

And then he’s gone, and you’re alone. You put your phone on charge before immediately flopping down on your bed. Your aching muscles hum in satisfaction, and you feel instant relief as you kick your heels off and close your eyes. Your heart is racing – how had you gone from being a virgin at the beginning of the year to hooking up with two guys in the same night?!

Speaking of one of the guys, your phone begins vibrating the moment it gains its battery back, and you see a flood of texts and missed calls from Ari. And you think back to how you’d feel a small sense of satisfaction and a burst of happiness every time he texted you or called you in the past.

Now, you don’t even have the energy to open his messages. It could wait till tomorrow.

You close your eyes to sleep. And you dreamt of Ari, of course you did. You dreamt of Ari a lot. But there was someone else alongside the brunet in your dreams tonight. A blonde with a charming smile and glittering eyes, the moonlight bathing him like a halo.

But you weren’t so sure if he was an angel.

AFHJSAFA OKAY! SO. What do we think??? AND YES omfg of course the second love interest was Steve! Y'all know i'm a whore for Steve and for me, he's the only one who can believably compete against THE Ari Levinson!!! I can't wait to delve into this story!!! I hope you guys enjoyed! Feedback would mean the world to me!

(also i'm paranoid that there are mistakes and continuity errors even tho i sorta did reread it kind of but aksdfnldaskgal idk!!! i'm sure it's all fine tho)

I actually prepared some questions for yall just in case:

Is it too soon to ask if you're team Ari or team Steve?!?! BC I WANNA KNOWWW.

Do Ari and Steve know each other?!?! DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE HISTORY?!?!

Does Ari have feelings for reader?! What is Steve's deal?!!? IDK YALL JUST PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT, ANY GENERAL THOUGHTS AND FEEDBACK SDFKLSAFN OKAY BYE

donate to my ko-fi!

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mogarukes · 2 years ago

Text

halloween is the perfect time for tricks—and treats

pairing: soft!dark friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: steve rogers is tired of being stuck in the friendzone and when he overhears you planning to pick up a one night stand at your mutual friend's halloween party, he decides to play a little trick on you—one where you'll both be getting a treat.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dubcon (because steve's wearing a mask), piv sex, unprotected sex, pervy behavior (both steve and reader are huge pervs tbh), BDSM themes, masturbation (m), dirty dancing/dry humping, ass play, fingering (f receiving, vaginal and anal), finger sucking, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, filming/recording/taking photos during sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink, super possessive behavior, talk of branding, talk of being friendzoned (even tho the friendzone is not fucking real), hair-pulling, aftercare, pet names (angel) — let me know if i missed something!!

word count: 19.4k

a/n: i think this remains the longest one shot i've written, even a year later, which is kind of wild!! this one really did get away from me. but man oh man does it have everything i love, most especially golden boy steve rogers who's actually, secretly, a filthy perv. god this might be one of my most favorite steve fics i've written. so i hope y'all enjoy it too!! ♡ (also again the friendzone is bullshit and not real and don't ever let a man tell you otherwise!!!)

halloween fics masterlist

“God, I need to get fucked,” you groaned in a hushed voice in the living room of your friend’s apartment. The quiet that followed indicated you were talking on the phone, the soft tinny sound of someone else speaking reaching even to the hallway.

At your words, the apartment’s owner, Steve Rogers, paused just out of sight in the hallway, shamelessly listening in on your conversation, his dick twitching in his pants at the desperate need in your voice. He’d been friends with you for a couple years and, almost the entire time, he’d been trying to figure out how to make a move on you without being creepy.

Steve liked you—a lot. He liked spending time with you, he liked listening to you laugh and he liked how you seemed to feel safe with him. But he wanted more, and the things he wanted to do to you…He thought you’d shy away if he said any of them out loud in your presence. The problem was, he couldn’t tell if you liked him the way he liked you, or if you thought of him as just a friend. You’d never told him you didn’t have feelings for him, but you’d never hinted at wanting more either. And you’d dated other guys, but you’d never dated him.

No, Steve thought, you just tortured him and played innocent. You cuddled up to him on his couch, acting all innocent as you pressed your tits into his side and rested your head on his chest while you watched movies together. You’d ask him to spoon you sometimes, your soft ass pressing against his lap, just laying there while Steve’s cock would get hard for you. He’d lay there until you fell asleep, your sweet breaths puffing out against his bicep, then shove his hand in his pants and tug on his cock, thinking about slipping his fingers between your legs to find you wet and willing for him. He’d imagine fucking you in your sleep, sliding into your warm, wet hole and filling you up with his cock. Sometimes he’d picture coming deep inside your pussy without you waking up, claiming you while you were none the wiser, and other times he’d imagine you waking up and the look on your face when you realized your friend was fucking you. He’d come in his boxers like a fucking teenager with you sleeping in his arms completely unaware.

Steve’s friends had tried to help him get out of the friendzone—Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson had plenty of suggestions for how to see if you’d ever think of Steve as more than just a friend. But Steve knew he had to play his hand exactly right or he’d risk coming off like a creep, and girls like you didn’t date creeps. So he’d bided his time, he’d kept his need on a tight leash, taking what he could get when what he really wanted was to pound into you with his cock. But he was getting frustrated and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back, not when he knew you were lounging on his couch talking about how much you needed to get fucked.

“I mean, Steve’s hot as fuck and all…” you trailed off in the other room and Steve perked up at the sound of his name.

Sure, you’d complimented him before. When he’d taken you as his date to his boss’s wedding, you’d told him how handsome he’d looked in a suit while you smoothed your hands over his chest. It had taken all his self control not to yank you against him so you could feel how hard you made him from just those small touches. Instead, he’d thanked you politely and offered his arm, like the gentleman he’d convinced you he was.

But, Steve realized, you’d never called him hot before. He’d never known you thought about him like that and pride bloomed in his chest at the compliment. At the same time, something warned him he wasn’t going to like how you finished your sentence. He was right.

“I just—I don’t know if he can really fuck me, y’know?” you muttered into your phone, clearly trying to keep your voice down so he wouldn’t hear. He was meant to be grabbing some snacks for your movie night, and they shook in Steve’s hand as he got more and more irritated by your words. “He’s a gentleman, he doesn’t exactly give off ‘I’ll fuck you like a slut’ energy.”

Frustration blinded Steve’s vision for a moment. That was why you’d never given him a chance? You thought he couldn’t fuck you properly? You thought he was too much of a gentleman to treat you like a slut? He’d never known about this side of you. Even with how close you’d become as friends, you’d kept it carefully hidden from Steve. And he’d kept his own dark desires hidden as well, too worried they’d scare you off before he had a chance to show you how good you could be together. But you were just as depraved as he was.

Frustration morphed into relief and then elation. If you wanted to be treated like a filthy slut, Steve thought, then he’d show you exactly what he was capable of. Having made up his mind to prove you wrong, he almost stormed into the living room and ripped the phone from your hands to bend you over and fuck you into the couch, but your next words stopped him.

“Sam’s Halloween party it is, then,” you said, finality in your voice like you’d come to a decision. Steve already knew it didn’t have anything to do with him. You’d written him off as an unacceptable partner, but he’d show you how wrong you were, making a decision of his own. “Yeah I’ll send you pics of my costume—it’s so slutty, it’ll be perfect.” You giggled, the sound shooting straight to Steve’s cock.

He gripped his hardening dick through his pants, stroking himself idly to the sound of your voice while a plan formed in his head. It hadn’t taken him long to piece together your idea to pick up some guy at Sam’s Halloween party, and Steve decided he could use that to his advantage. Besides, he wanted to see exactly how slutty your Halloween costume was—and he wanted to see just how much of a pathetic, needy little slut you could be under the right circumstances. Steve let go of his dick, using his hand to get his phone out and order the perfect mask for his plan.

After all, what kind of friend would he be if he let you fuck some random guy? You could pick up someone who was dangerous, who didn’t respect your boundaries—or worse, someone who couldn’t satisfy you. Steve knew he could satisfy you, he reasoned, slipping his phone back in his pocket and returning his hand to his dick. He jerked his cock harder in the hallway outside his living room, listening to you laugh on the other side of the wall.

Really, he thought, it was his responsibility as your friend to make sure you were safe, to make sure you were fucked by someone you could trust. Who could you trust better than your good friend Steve Rogers? He stroked his cock harder to the sound of your voice, imagining you on your knees and staring up at him with your eyes wide while you sucked his length into your throat. He came to the thought of coating your pretty face with his come, your giggles echoing in his ears as he spilled himself inside his jeans.

As he turned away and silently padded back down the hallway, heading toward his room to change, Steve only grew more confident in his plan. He knew he could satisfy the filthy little slut in you and then, if you let him, he’d finally have an answer to how you felt about him. So what if he had to trick you into it? It was Halloween, the perfect time for tricks—and treats.

-~-~-

You walked into Sam Wilson’s wild Halloween party on a mission, determination in your strut and conviction in the tilt of your chin. Ever since telling your best friends Yelena Belova and Kate Bishop about your need to get fucked and all three of you deciding Sam’s Halloween party was the best place to find a guy to satisfy you, it was all you could think about.

After talking to them on the phone while you were at your friend Steve Rogers’ place for a movie night—and waiting for him to come back with snacks, which took forever—you were worried you’d leave a wet spot on his couch from thinking about being bent over and railed in the woods behind Sam’s house. You didn’t, thankfully, since you weren’t sure how Steve would’ve reacted. He was such a polite gentleman, he probably would’ve pretended he didn’t see it. You couldn’t imagine your blond-haired and blue-eyed golden boy of a friend shoving your face in the wet spot and fucking you hard enough to hurt as punishment for getting his couch messy.

Well, you could imagine it, and the thought made you wet as fuck, but the problem was you didn’t think he’d ever actually do it. And that was exactly why you weren’t looking to your best guy friend to satisfy your need to get fucked. Steve seemed like he would be a little too vanilla in bed for your tastes and you didn’t have the energy to spend weeks and months introducing him to what you liked, what you needed. Better to find some random guy who’d fuck you filthy and then fuck off in the morning.

Pushing aside thoughts of Steve and how you wished he was just as wickedly depraved as you, you refocused on Sam’s Halloween party. Your eyes scanned what you could see of the first floor of the house from just inside the front door, looking for someone to catch your eye. The foyer opened up into a large living room where all the furniture had been pushed against the walls, making room for a DJ table blasting loud music and a big dance floor that was already crowded with people dressed in all kinds of costumes.

There were some fun creative ones, playing on the year’s biggest memes, then there were the guys who put in barely any effort, dressing like a lumberjack or just getting a mask from a Halloween store. And, of course, there were plenty of girls dressed in all manner of slutty costumes. Not that you were judging anyone for dressing slutty—your costume was literally lingerie.

You wore a little white silk cami dress you’d found in the lingerie section of an online shop, the neckline dipped low and the bottom hem barely covered your ass. To turn it into an angel costume, you’d paired it with white patent leather mary jane heels, some small fluffy white wings strapped to your shoulders and a headband lifting a feathery halo above your head. Both Yelena and Kate had wolf-whistled when you’d finished getting ready, assuring you it would be easy to pick up a guy at Sam’s party.

Before you’d found anyone in the living room that you thought might do the trick, Yelena and Kate each looped an arm through yours and led you down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house. It was crowded, but not nearly as bad as the living room. You and your friends made a beeline for the host, who was dressed like a king—complete with crown and scepter—and holding court like one in front of a group of girls dressed like slutty nurses and sailors.

Sam greeted you and your friends warmly, kissing each of you on the cheek as he hugged you. After you’d hugged Sam, you turned to Bucky—taking a short moment to appreciate the way he filled out his army costume—hugging and kissing him on the cheek as well.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, half-shouting in Bucky’s ear to be heard over the thumping music in the living room. You had to brace a hand on his shoulder, going up on tiptoes to make sure he heard you.

Bucky smirked as you leaned in close, giving him a perfect view down your dress, and he wasn’t above sneaking a peek. “He’s running a little late, but he’ll be here soon, doll,” Bucky answered, turning his head so his stubbled jaw rubbed against the soft skin of your cheek, all the while eying your tits without being too obvious about it.

You shivered at the bristly feel of Bucky’s rough stubble against your skin, ignoring the rushing thrill it sent through your body to pull away and pout up at him. “But then who’s going to hold my phone while I dance?” you asked in a teasing voice, holding up your phone and gesturing at your dress to show you had no where to put it.

Heat flamed in Bucky’s eyes as his gaze raked down your body, taking in your skimpy dress that clung to all your curves and left your legs bare from thigh to ankle. But when he looked back up at you, it was gone so fast you weren’t sure if you’d seen it or not. Before you could decide if Bucky had really been checking you out, he snagged your phone and slipped it into the pocket of his army pants. “I’ve got it, doll, I’ll give it to Steve when he gets here,” he said, giving you a charming smile.

“Thank you!” you half-yelled, going up on tiptoe again to plant another kiss on Bucky’s rugged cheek, pressing your hand on his firm chest to keep your balance. For a moment, you lingered. Bucky smelled like fresh winter air and beer, the scent enticing on his skin. Your nipple grazed against his arm, sending a little shiver down your spine as you pulled away sharply.

When you caught Bucky’s eye, his blue gaze burned with heat that made you feel hot and flustered. “Don’t mention it, doll,” Bucky said, a smirk curving his full lips. His tongue poked out and traced his lower lip and you didn’t realize you were so focused on the movement until one of your best friends wrenched your attention away.

Yelena tugged on your arm, yelling, “SHOTS!” in your face as she pulled you away from Bucky. You laughed, joining your friends at the kitchen island. Sam had poured each of you a shot of tequila and you happily reached for one of the little plastic shot glasses.

Bucky pressed against your back, much closer than was technically appropriate between friends—close enough you could feel a bulge in the front of his pants—and reached around you to grab a shot of his own. You shivered, feeling the heat and hardness of your friend’s body through the thin satin of your dress and wondered if you should abandon your plan to find some random guy and fuck Bucky instead. He had an edge to him Steve didn’t and you wondered if that translated to him being able to give you what you needed.

But then Sam was raising his shot glass, everyone else following his lead, and you looked around at your group of friends. You realized if you fucked Bucky, there may have been a better chance of you getting the type of sex you wanted, but it would impact the rest of your friend group and you weren’t willing to risk it. You weren’t even sure Bucky could fuck you like that—maybe he was even more vanilla than Steve. Those were good enough reasons not to press back into Bucky, but if you were honest with yourself, the real reason was that deep down you knew if you fucked either Bucky or Sam, it’d ruin your chances with Steve forever, and you didn’t want that. But you didn’t have time to unpack that thought when you were surrounded by friends at a Halloween party.

Your attention refocused on your friends just in time for Sam to finish whatever toast he’d been giving, “Let’s party hard, fuck hard and have a happy Halloween!” Everyone laughed and you clinked glasses with Yelena and Kate before downing your shot. You’d already started pre-gaming back at your own apartment with your friends, so the tequila went down easily, settling deep in your stomach and spreading warmth through your limbs.

“Another!” Thor Odinson yelled, joining your group and snatching the bottle of tequila from Sam before pouring more shots.

You held out your cup for more alongside Kate and Yelena, and you all downed that round together without waiting for another toast. Thor and Sam cheered you three on, then threw back their own shots. The alcohol created a happy glow in your chest that had your limbs loosening, but when you held your cup out for another, a warm palm slid around your side to your stomach, pulling you back against a broad body, your angel wings crushing against a hard chest, and out of reach of Thor’s pouring.

“Don’t you think you should take it easy, doll?” Bucky asked in a low voice next to your ear so only you could hear. “You just got here.” He reached around you with his other arm, plucking your shot glass out of your fingers and tossing it down on the island.

Frowning while your friends did a third shot, you turned in Bucky’s arms, purposefully brushing your ass against the bulge in his pants to torture him for taking your cup away. You pouted up at him. “I’m just having fun!” you insisted, leaning further into his chest and giving him your best wide-eyed puppy dog look. Your hands landed on Bucky’s shoulders and you couldn’t help but notice how broad and strong they felt under your fingers.

Bucky grinned as you pressed up against him. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, but he wasn’t going to complain when you pressed your soft tits against his hard chest. His arm had settled around your lower back, just above the swell of your ass and he wondered if he could get away with a little grope before Steve showed up. He was still debating it when he ducked his head so he could speak into your ear. “I’m just looking out for you, doll,” he said, innocence in his voice. “Don’t want you to be a drunk, sloppy mess before Steve even gets here.”

Your friend’s deep voice rumbling through your chest and the feel of his breath on your neck sent electricity shooting down your spine, settling deep in your core. You knew you’d already decided not to fuck Bucky, but you couldn’t help yourself from melting against him—he just felt so good. Too distracted by dragging your palms down from his shoulders to his arms, practically feeling him up through his army costume, you didn’t even wonder why Bucky wouldn’t want you getting too drunk before Steve showed up.

A sharp smack on your ass shocked you out of your lust-drunk—and a little bit real-drunk—stupor. With a gasp, you looked up at Bucky in surprise. He wore a smug grin, no hint of remorse in his shining blue eyes for spanking you. And, if you were honest with yourself, you liked it. You wondered if you should reconsider Bucky as a potential one night stand or fuck buddy. Maybe it’d be worth it…

Before you could come to a decision, Bucky eased you away from his body. “Go dance, doll,” he ordered in a quiet, commanding tone that had heat gathering between your legs.

Tongue-tied by your reaction to your friend, you nodded dumbly and turned back to your friends. You swallowed hard as you tugged on their arms. “Time to dance!” you yelled over the music, proud of yourself when your voice came out loud and strong. Yelena and Kate both screamed happily, waving to Sam, Thor and Bucky before winding through the crowd to the living room.

You shook off your attraction to Bucky, reminding yourself he was off limits unless you wanted Steve to be furious with you. And you didn’t want that. Probably. Unless that was the key to getting what you wanted from him… You pushed that thought aside as you linked hands with your friends, dancing in a circle on the edge of the crowd. All the while, you kept an eye out to see if there was anyone at the party who looked like they could fuck you the way you needed.

-~-~-

Back in the kitchen, Bucky watched you dance until Steve walked in through the back door of Sam’s house. The brown-haired man dragged his eyes from your ass and looked to his best friend, easily recognizing the costume he’d helped Steve assemble. Steve lifted the mask of his costume up, setting it on top of his head as he beelined through the kitchen to Bucky.

“Your girl’s already here,” Bucky said by way of a greeting, nodding to the living room where you were dancing to the thumping beat with your friends. You, Yelena and Kate were still on the edge of the crowd, in full view of the kitchen. Your hips swayed rhythmically to the beat as both men watched.

You hadn’t been kidding that night in his apartment, Steve realized, your costume was slutty. The way the bottom hem of your dress fluttered while you danced, revealing glimpses of your plush ass, had his cock thickening in his pants. He wanted to bend you over where you stood and shove his cock deep in your pussy, claiming you for everyone to see while you squealed and squirmed under him. See if you call him a gentleman after that.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Steve turned back to his best friend, who held out a phone for him. “She gave me this to hold on to,” Bucky explained and for a moment, jealousy flared hot in Steve’s chest at the thought of you letting anyone but him hold onto your phone. Bucky must’ve sensed the shift in Steve because he was quick to explain. “Don’t worry, man, I told her I’d give it to you as soon as I saw you.”

That helped to soothe the jealousy a bit, along with the knowledge that Bucky knew better than to make a move on you. Steve wasn’t oblivious, he’d seen the way his best friend looked at you sometimes, and he’d wanted to get to the party before you to ensure you didn’t get any ideas about Bucky. But he knew his best friend wouldn’t encourage or take you up on any offer that might piss off Steve. Bucky was a bit bigger, but Steve was tenacious in a fight and he knew he could beat his friend’s ass if he needed to prove a point—the point being that you belonged to him.

“Thanks man,” Steve muttered to his friend, his eyes finding you again in the crowd. As you spun slowly where you danced, he got a better look at your angel costume—if it could even be called that. The soft shiny material of your dress clung to your waist and the curves of your tits, barely covering your ass, making your legs look long and leaving them on display for everyone to see.

When you twirled again, he watched your tits jiggle in the top and bit back a groan at the realization you weren’t wearing a bra. Were you wearing panties under that little dress, he wondered, or were you dancing on the edge of flashing your pussy to every guy in the room with each twist of your hips? What a fucking slut, Steve thought, sexual frustration and affection creating an intoxicating haze in his mind. The urge to make you his slut was almost overwhelming.

Steve was dragged out of his possessive thoughts by Bucky pressing a beer into his hand. The blond grunted a thanks to his best friend as he continued watching you dance until your friends dragged you deeper into the crowd and you disappeared from view. When he turned to Bucky, he found his best friend’s eyes following you through the throng of dancers. Steve knocked his shoulder against his friend to get Bucky’s attention.

The brunet shrugged unapologetically, taking a swig from his own beer before speaking low so only Steve could hear. “She’s needy tonight, Stevie,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation before going on. “Practically humped my leg when I took her drink away—for you, mind you, so she wouldn’t be too drunk,” he added quickly before Steve could jump to the wrong conclusion that Bucky was trying to make a move on you. Bucky pointed a finger at his best friend and raised his eyebrows. “You sure you’re gonna be able to handle her?”

Steve smirked, not letting himself be anything less than self-assured that you’d end the night begging him to let you out of the friendzone. He couldn’t wait to watch you come apart on his cock, bent over with your face down and ass up while he pounded your pussy until you were crying through your release. Although he’d clued Bucky in on his plan to fuck you, he hadn’t told the brunet everything he had in mind for you, so he could understand his friend’s concern to a certain extent, but that didn’t stop Steve from snorting derisively.

“I can handle her,” he answered confidently, flicking his gaze to his best friend’s. “Why, you want a piece of her?” Steve had never confronted Bucky with the way his friend looked at you, and he was curious to see what Bucky would say when presented with the option.

Bucky gave his friend a long look, trying to work out if the question was a trap, but after a moment he threw back the rest of his beer and shrugged, deciding he didn’t give a fuck either way. “Yeah, man, you know I’d be more than happy to volunteer if all she’s looking for is some easy, no strings attached dick,” he answered honestly. “But I know she’s yours—but you gotta take what’s yours first, before you go around offering to share, Stevie,” Bucky shot a meaningful look at Steve before he slapped his blond friend on the shoulder and stepped away to grab another beer.

Steve absorbed what his friend had said while he watched the crowd of dancers, catching sight of your halo and angel wings between the shifting bodies. He made a mental note that Bucky was interested in you and he didn’t seem to mind sharing as long as he had Steve’s blessing. The blond was in the middle of figuring out what he could do with that information when he caught sight of you in the mass of people on the dance floor.

You were dancing with some guy dressed as a devil, grinding your ass back against his lap, arms looped around his neck in a way that pushed your tits out obscenely, your nipples peaked and poking through the shimmery white dress you wore. Angel wings hung from your shoulders in direct contrast to the filthy way you moved. As Steve watched, the guy slid his hands from your hips down to your thighs and Steve growled at seeing someone—some random stranger—touching what was his without permission.

Steve finished his beer and fixed his Halloween costume mask back over his face before pushing off the kitchen counter he’d been leaning against. He stalked through the crowded kitchen with a purposeful stride, diving into the crush of bodies in the living room. With relentless intent, he moved toward you with the singular focus of getting to you and stealing you away from that fucking devil guy.

-~-~-

Your pussy throbbed to the beat of the pounding music and your arousal was slicking your thighs as you moved in the arms of a guy dressed like a devil, your wetness having already soaked through your tiny little thong. You were horny, needy, desperate, and the feel of grinding on a guy on the dance floor was only making you hotter. His hands were sliding down from your waist to your thighs, teasing the bottom of your dress, and you moaned softly, pressing your ass back into the hardness in his pants.

He didn’t seem that big by your judgement, but you were hoping you were wrong—though you still hadn’t decided whether to risk it and find a dark corner to get better acquainted with what he was working with. Yet. But then he had to go and kill your mood.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, baby?” the devil asked in your ear.

Something about the guy’s voice gave you an immediate ick and your face screwed up in a disgusted look as you shuddered, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over your desire. You didn’t even realize you had such a thing for voices until this guy’s completely turned you off. It didn’t help that he’d chosen probably the most cliched pickup line he possibly could’ve—zero points for matching it to your costume.

When you looked around, ignoring the question and looking for your friends to have them help you escape, your gaze landed on a man off to the side. He stood still in the throng of dancers, standing out in the crowd like a lighthouse standing sentry amidst a thrashing storm. Even though you couldn’t see the man’s eyes, you could feel his intent gaze on your body.

The man was tall and dressed like Ghostface from Scream, but instead of the cheap black robe most guys wore with the hooded mask, he donned a black t-shirt that pulled deliciously tight over a broad chest and shoulders, the sleeves stretched to the point of nearly ripping across his bulging biceps. Your eyes trailed down, finding his t-shirt was tucked into black jeans slung low on a trim waist, the bottom of his pants disappearing into black combat boots. His arms were bare up to the wrist, showing off muscular forearms that were dusted with light brown hair, wearing what looked like black latex gloves on his hands. The overall effect had heat singing through your body, settling deep in your core and making you wet all over again.

The devil at your back either didn’t care or didn’t notice you hadn’t responded to him, and his hands started to inch higher on your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress and making you shudder in revulsion, an outraged frown marring your face. You were about to turn around and push the devil guy off you, but Ghostface was quicker, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest while he pressed his palm against the devil’s face and shoved him away from you.

“What the fuck!” the devil shouted indignantly.

You couldn’t be bothered to even look back at the guy, too busy plastering yourself against Ghostface, your front flush against his strong chest, your nipples rubbing the inside of your satin dress teasingly. You shivered and pressed yourself harder against him, your arms winding around his neck and clinging to him while your hips swayed to the beat of the music.

Ghostface made a shooing gesture at the devil and the other guy stalked off in a huff, disappearing in the crowd. You barely noticed him leave, especially as the feel of Ghostface’s gloved hands smoothing down your lower back to your ass lit a fire beneath your skin. He shoved his knee between your thighs and hiked you up on his leg until you were grinding your wet pussy down on his muscular thigh. He bent his knees, working his hips in slow rolls to the thumping bass.

You let him manhandle you onto his leg and then leaned on him, draping your body over his and grinding to the beat. Pressing your face into his shoulder, you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent—woodsy and earthy. Something about it seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Ignoring why it smelled familiar, you let Ghostface’s scent lull you into a sense of safety you didn’t quite understand.

All around you, other people danced, but Ghostface worked your bodies to the music in a way that felt more like fucking than dancing. In no time at all, you were breathless and panting with need, clinging to his shoulders as your knees wobbled and slick covered your thighs, no doubt soaking into his pants. But though you wanted to spread your legs wider and grind harder until you came all over this stranger’s thigh, you forced yourself to hold back that slutty impulse. Instead, you made yourself spin around in his arms until your ass settled against his lap so you could get a hint at what he was working with and whether it’d be worth it to choose him to fuck you.

A sharp gasp caught in your throat as you felt Ghostface’s massive bulge twitch against your ass. He didn’t even feel fully hard and he was bigger than any other guy you’d fucked. He felt like he was almost as big as Steve—not that you knew how big your friend’s cock was. But he’d get hard while you spooned sometimes. You’d lay in his arms, silently praying he’d make a move, but he never did, and you’d fall asleep wet and frustrated, feeling Steve’s cock pressing against your ass. The feel of it was burned into your memory.

If Ghostface was anywhere near as big as your friend, you just had to fuck him. Before you’d even fully made your decision, your ass was grinding back against him indecently. You moaned softly and lifted your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers digging into the cheap fabric of the mask’s hood. Your back arched in a perfect curve, your angel wings crushed against his chest, your tits thrust forward, nipples poking through your thin dress.

Ghostface’s gloved hands gripped your hips roughly, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to make you gasp again. The dull pain of his grip was quickly overshadowed by the heat of your arousal as he rubbed his thick bulge against your ass. “Like what you feel, angel?” the man asked, his voice low and rough in your ear.

Again, something about the man’s voice sparked a sense of familiarity deep in your brain, but you brushed it off as simple chemistry. You were so turned on by the stranger, you were imagining things that weren’t there, wanting him to be someone he wasn’t. Still, he had you so hot and bothered you’d be an idiot not to choose him to be the one to fuck you—so you made your decision.

Tilting your head back against his shoulder so your mouth was closer to his ear, you let out a low, wanton moan. “I like it a lot, Mr. Ghostface,” you rasped in a husky, needy tone, grinding your ass harder against his bulge. You could hear him breathing harshly through the mask and it only turned you on more.

“Fuck,” he grunted, voice distorted through the mask but deliciously deep, sending a shiver down your spine to settle heavily in your core. “You’re a dirty fucking slut, aren’tcha, angel?” he asked, sliding his gloved hands down from your hips to your thighs. When you nodded against his shoulder, he groped your soft flesh in an almost punishing grip, fingers teasing the insides of your thighs. “Are you wearing any panties under this slutty little dress?” he asked, his hands sliding up under the hem until the tips of his gloved fingers were mere centimeters away from your dripping slit. “Or were you planning on flashing this pussy to all the men here until one snapped and bent you over, fucking you in the middle of the room for the whole party to see?”

His filthy words were like electric currents shooting straight to your throbbing core, your clit pulsing with need as he spoke to you with such vulgar language in that deep, degrading tone. Ghostface was exactly what you’d wanted to find at Sam’s Halloween party, a man who would fuck you like a slut, and you were almost giddy enough to turn around and jump him in the middle of the dance floor. You managed to hold yourself back, turning around in his arms until you were facing him again. “Why don’t you take me upstairs and find out for yourself,” you challenged, a smirk curling the edge of your mouth.

Through the black mesh of the Ghostface mask’s eyes, you could see the man’s gaze sparkle with hunger and though you couldn’t be sure since his face was hidden, you felt certain he was grinning. He ducked his head so he could speak next to your ear. “I have a better idea, angel,” he growled, sending more shivers skating down your spine.

Before you could ask what he meant, Ghostface grabbed your hand, threading his fingers through yours and tugging you toward the sliding door that lead to the house’s back deck. It was a warm night for October, but there was still a chill in the air and your outfit was incredibly skimpy, so when you stepped outside, a shudder wracked your body. You clung to Ghostface’s hand, winding yourself around his arm to try to steal some of his warmth.

He glanced down at you and you thought you caught a glimpse of his eyes shining happily at the sight of you clinging to him, but he looked away to navigate through the crowd on the deck. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone, just tugged you along with him as he walked to the edge, then down the stairs to the yard. There were fewer people milling about, but some were circled around a fire pit. Ghostface ignored them, leading you down the sloping grass hill, holding your hand firmly so you didn’t slip on the damp grass. The sounds of the party, the thumping bass from inside and the chatter of people by the fire pit, grew more distant the farther you got away from the house.

When he walked to the edge of the tree line where Sam’s property ended and the woods began, you dug your heels into the soft earth beneath your feet and pulled the stranger to a stop. Even with how horny you were for this man, you had some sense of self-preservation and it was telling you not to walk into the woods with a complete stranger whose face you hadn’t even seen. “Where are we going?” you asked, a little bit of fear leaking through your voice.

Ghostface glanced back at the house and when you followed his gaze, you saw Bucky standing on the back deck, leaning on the wooden railing, smoking a cigarette. Though it was too far away to really tell, you had the feeling Bucky was watching you and the man. If you screamed for help, you were sure he’d come running, but you hadn’t decided if that was necessary just yet. Tingles of desire were mixing with the little shivers of fear and creating an intoxicating mix in your body that you didn’t want to give up unless you had to.

“Before we get started,” Ghostface began in a low, rumbling voice. “Do you want a safe word?”

His words drew your attention back to the man in the Ghostface mask, and you couldn’t help but notice he didn’t answer your question. His voice distracted you, though. Without the loud music and crush of bodies, that sense of familiarity sparked stronger at the sound, just like when you’d heard his voice inside and when you’d smelled him. You tilted your head to the side as you considered him.

When you didn’t answer, his shoulders stiffened like he was afraid he was losing you. “Pick a safe word, angel, and I’ll stop whatever we’re doing if you use it,” he urged, a thread of desperation in his tone.

His voice niggled at your brain. You knew you recognized it, you just weren’t sure who it belonged to. But your curiosity was piqued and you were still so fucking horny, so you threw caution to the wind. Even if he didn’t respect your safe word, Bucky was within earshot if you screamed. So you gave him a word. “Sidney,” you said, lips quirking at your cleverness while you stared at the Ghostface mask.

His shoulders relaxed and you could hear the grin in his voice as he responded, “Sidney, it is.” He held his black gloved hand out to you.

For a moment, you just looked at it. Your eyes trailed up his muscled arm to the Ghostface mask and then over his shoulder to the pitch black woods beyond. You weren’t sure what he had planned for you, but the way your slit leaked at the thought of being fucked in the woods had you making a decision. With one last glance over your shoulder, finding Bucky still standing on the deck, you slid your fingers into his hand and let him tug you into the deep, dark shadows of the trees.

It was even colder in the woods, and you pressed close to Ghostface’s muscled arm as he tromped through the fallen leaves and underbrush. He didn’t make you walk far, maybe a minute or two, until he came to a stop in a little clearing, the trees overhead thinned enough for the full moon to shine down on the forest floor. Laid out over the ground was a thick blanket, or maybe a couple of layered blankets, and they looked clean, like they’d only been put there earlier that day.

When you looked up at Ghostface, you caught that look in his eye through the mesh, like he was grinning beneath the mask. “We’ll have more privacy out here, angel,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and a little muffled. “So you can scream as loud as you want.”

Maybe you should’ve been scared, maybe you should’ve used your safe word or tried to run back to the party, but at his sinful words, you pressed closer. “You gonna fuck me hard enough to scream, Mr. Ghostface?” you asked in a teasing voice, your lips plumped up in a pout.

“Oh, angel,” he growled, tugging you around to his front. He walked you back until you were pressed up against the thick trunk of a tree, your fluffy feathered angel wings protecting your shoulders from the bark. With a rough grip on your thigh, he lifted one of your legs up to hook around his waist, stepping in between and pinning you to the tree, the massive bulge in his pants pressed to your dripping core. You shivered at the feel of him, wondering for the first time whether it would fit. “I’m gonna fuck you until you scream yourself raw.”

With that sinful promise hanging in the air and stealing all clever comebacks from your lips, Ghostface reached down and shoved your dress up around your hips until your tiny white thong was on display. The meager scrap of cloth was the only thing protecting your wet little slit from his eyes. He let out a deep, guttural groan at the sight. “Fuck, angel, I don’t think you could even count these as panties,” he muttered, his black gloved fingers tracing the side of the garment. In a quick movement, he twisted his fingers around the thin fabric and, with a sharp yank, he easily ripped the thong away from your body.

A harsh gasp was pulled from your lips and you jerked in Ghostface’s arms at the feel of your panties being ripped off you. No one had ever done that to you before and it drove you a little wild, seeing the way this man’s muscles had bulged in his arm as he tore through your panties. More desire leaked from your slit and slid down to your ass. As Ghostface pulled your ruined panties away from your body, the fabric clinging obscenely to your soaking wet folds, it was replaced with the cold air of the night. Goosebumps raised all over your body as the October chill caressed your drenched pussy and slick thighs, highlighting exactly how messy you were already.

But a moment later, you couldn’t care less about the cold because Ghostface was pressing his gloved fingers between your folds, sliding them against your slippery skin and circling your clit. Your hips bucked against his hand, trying to take his fingers inside your grasping channel. You were so wet and needy and you felt pathetically empty, every cell in your body demanding you be filled and fucked, but the man just tsked at you.

“Such a needy fucking slut,” he gritted out like he was clenching his teeth while he played with your pussy. His head was tilted down like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of his fingers sliding between your folds, and the way your body responded to his touch. “So fucking wet and warm—this cunt is begging for cock, isn’t it angel?”

“God, yes,” you answered on an exhale, your voice breathless with need. “Need your cock.” You tried to reach between your bodies and tug on his belt to slide it open, but Ghostface batted your hands away.

He gripped your face in his free hand while the other teased your pussy, bringing his masked face close to yours like he was getting an up close look at your expression. “Hmm, no,” he murmured, pinning you against the tree with his hand on your face. “You don’t sound nearly desperate enough just yet, angel,” he said and you could hear the evil smirk in his voice.

Your protest died on your lips as he let go of your face, shifting your leg up his waist so he could dig something out of his pocket. “I think we should record this, don’t you?” he asked, but your pleasure-soaked brain was taking too long to understand his meaning. He pulled out a phone and opened the camera, flicking the flash on. The bright light shone in your eyes for a second before he moved it down your body to where his glove-covered fingers were still teasing your pussy.

Awareness prickled across your skin at the realization he was taking a video of what he was doing to you. It occurred to you that you could use your safe word, but when you looked down, you could see his fingers playing with your pussy on the screen and it looked hot, the sight making your clit throb in pleasure. You liked being recorded, liked the way it made you feel desired and on display. Rolling your hips against Ghostface’s fingers, you watched the motion on the camera and groaned, head thrown back against the tree.

After teasing you for what felt like forever, Ghostface finally slid one of his thick fingers into your tight hole, making you moan loudly. Your fingers scrabbled at the tree, trying to cling to something while he finally pressed inside your pussy. “You’re gonna beg so sweetly for my cock, angel,” he promised in a harsh, almost distracted voice as he stared down at the camera, watching his finger slide in and out of your channel on the phone. “And I want to save it so we can rewatch it over and over and over again.” He punctuated his words with short, quick thrusts of his finger, making you cry out.

“Please,” you begged, needing more than one finger, wanting to feel stretched out by his cock, but unable to form the words as he fucked you. It was so good but not nearly enough, and yet, you could feel an orgasm building slowly in your core.

“Fuck, you’re soaked, angel,” Ghostface groaned, fucking you harder with his finger. “Can you hear the sounds your pussy is making for me while I fingerfuck your sloppy wet cunt?”

Of course you could hear it. “Yes,” you groaned, a little humiliation mixing with the ruthless pleasure he was giving you as your body told him exactly how turned on you were. Even with your heart pounding in your chest and Ghostface’s harsh breathing in his mask, you could hear the lewd sounds of his finger pumping in and out of your dripping hole. He fucked you faster, and the sounds only grew louder, his palm slapping against your wet folds, the heel of his hand striking your clit with sharp little smacks. “More, please,” you begged on a strangled sob.

“Mmm, that’s it angel, beg for me,” he urged, shoving a second finger in your pussy, drawing a ragged moan from you. Your head thrashed side to side against the tree trunk at your back, your hips writhing against his fingers.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted in rhythm with his thrusts, his two fingers almost enough but not quite. You could feel yourself hurtling toward the edge, you just needed a little more.

Ghostface seemed to know exactly what you needed and when he stuffed a third finger in your tight hole, making you stretch around him, your back arched and the most debauched sound you’d ever heard left your own lips. He made a pleased sound.

“Good girl, angel, take my fingers,” he praised, his voice raspy and muffled through the Ghostface mask. “Need to stretch you out so you’re ready for my cock,” he continued, almost as if to himself. When you glanced at him, his face was pointed down, like his eyes were transfixed on the sight of his three fingers pumping in and out of your tight channel on the phone screen. “Don’t wanna hurt my pretty little fucktoy before I’ve even had a chance to use her properly.”

“Oh god, fuck,” you groaned at his filthy words and the way he was so consumed with your body. Your desire flared hot at the way he talked about you like you weren’t even there. Something about being so thoroughly used hit you with a staggering wave of pleasure. All of a sudden, you were on the precipice of your release. “Gonna come,” you murmured. Through slitted eyes, you tracked the movement of the cell phone flash panning up your body to your face. You let your need shine through your expression, eyes looking into the light as you begged, “Please make me come.”

“That’s my girl, begging like such a good fucking slut,” he praised, fucking you harder with his fingers and drawing more moans from your lips, one tumbling after the other. “Come all over this stranger’s fingers like the filthy fucking slut you are.”

Something about the way he said the word ‘stranger’ had alarm bells going off in your head, but they were distant with your mind too consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. You were too focused on chasing your release, a whine rising in your throat as your arms braced against the tree and you fucked yourself on his fingers. You were so close.

“Take my mask off,” Ghostface grunted, but you couldn’t hear him over your moaning and panting. So he tried again, his voice louder and firmer with the command. “Take my mask off, angel—I want you to know exactly whose fingers you’re coming on."

The alarm bells were louder now, trying to warn you about something, but you still couldn’t be bothered to care too much. With fumbling, eager hands, you curled your fingers around the edges of the Ghostface mask. You pulled the mask and hood off, letting it drop to the forest floor with a muffled thud. A loud, sharp gasp left your lips before it even landed on the ground.

“STEVE!?” you cried in confusion, only vaguely aware of the camera recording your reaction. You were shocked by the sight of your friend’s handsome face, his blue eyes shining bright and wild in the moonlight, his full lips twisted up into a smug smirk. His usually neat blond hair was messy from the mask, and for some reason, that was the detail you focused on. You’d never seen him without perfectly combed and styled hair. To see him so disheveled sent heat and desire curling through your body, your pussy clamping down on his fingers like you didn’t want to let him go.

Steve only allowed you a moment to absorb the information it was him who’d lured you into the woods to fingerfuck you against a tree. In the next heartbeat, your friend shoved his three fingers ruthlessly into your cunt, his thumb circling your clit. A feral grin pulled across his face as he watched you come apart.

It was all too much. You’d already been dangling on the brink of your release and the shock of finding your friend beneath the Ghostface mask mixed with the pleasure he mercilessly delivered to your body, sent you flying over the edge. Your head thumped against the tree and your lips opened wide on a scream as you came all over Steve’s fingers.

“Good girl, being so fucking good for me, angel,” Steve murmured as he fucked you through your orgasm, stretching his arm holding the phone so the camera could capture both your face and his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. He widened his fingers even as your walls clamped down on him, making you stretch around him. “Your pussy feels so fucking good coming all over my fingers—never felt anything so fucking sweet.”

Lost to the feeling of your ebbing orgasm, all you could do was moan for Steve, his praising words sparking a new kind of heat, this one in your chest as your heart squeezed. You didn’t know if you liked his dirty talk or his sweet words better and a small part of you worried he was going to ruin you for all other men if he kept treating you like the most precious thing in the world and a filthy slut. “Steve,” you murmured, hands finding his chest and sliding up to wrap around his shoulders. You wanted him closer, needed him closer.

Steve must’ve understood what you meant because the bright light from the flash disappeared and in the next moment he was dropping your leg to the ground and gathering you up against his chest. He held you tight, easing you away from the tree and further into the clearing. With gentle but firm hands, Steve sat you down on the blankets on the ground, helping you take off your angel wings so you could lay down. He covered your body with his, holding you while you caught your breath.

Though your breathing was evening out, your mind was racing, processing the fact that your friend—polite, golden boy Steve Rogers—had been the man under the Ghostface mask. It didn’t seem possible. You’d known Steve for years. You’d given him sign after sign after sign you wanted more from him, all of which he’d completely ignored.

When he’d taken you as his date to his boss’s wedding, and you’d seen how deliciously hot he’d looked in his suit, you’d practically thrown yourself into his arms, feeling up his hard chest through his shirt and jacket. The whole night, you’d dropped every hint you could think of, short of trying to grab his cock through his dress pants. He’d still escorted you home and dropped you off at your door with a respectful kiss on your cheek. The fact that he’d fingerfucked you up against a tree in the woods behind Sam’s Halloween party just didn’t make sense.

“Steve?” you whispered his name, confusion coloring your tone. You pushed against your friend’s chest until he rolled to the side, stretching out next to you on the blankets.

His face was guarded, lips pressed into an impassive line and blue eyes wary as he watched your expression. But there was a wildness in his features you’d never seen before. Something he must’ve kept on a tight leash and buried so you’d never see it. All of a sudden, you were angry. You were furious that he’d kept this side of himself from you. All you could think about were all the orgasms you’d missed out on while he’d been busy pretending to be the golden boy gentleman.

“What the fuck was that, Steve?” you demanded, sitting up and pushing at his chest when he tried to rise up next to you, forcing him back on his elbows. “What the fuck was that, huh? Huh?” You punctuated your angry questions with more shoves to Steve’s chest.

With ease, he caught your wrists in one of his hands, holding you captive so he was able to finally sit up. Your friend loomed over you, blocking out the full moon in the sky. His blue eyes raked over your expression, and you squirmed beneath his stare, heat flooding your core. Steve’s gaze dropped down, catching the little wiggle of your hips and a dangerous grin spread slowly across his face.

“Oh, angel,” Steve murmured in a low, sinful voice as he dragged his eyes back up your body, lingering on the way your thin white dress clung to the curves of your tits. “That was just the beginning.” His blue gaze pierced your own, and you swore could feel the promise in his answer shoot directly to your clit, making it pulse with need.

You didn’t have time to ponder how your friend was able to make your pussy throb with some innocuous words and a look because in the next breath, Steve pushed you back down into the blankets, pinning your hands above your head while he groped your tits roughly with his free hand.

“God, your fucking tits, angel,” Steve groaned. He ducked his head down to suck your nipple into his mouth through your dress, getting the fabric wet so that when he moved to the other, it was left tortured by the combination of the damp satin and the cool night air. He did the same to your other nipple, every bite and lick and pull of his lips on your sensitive peaks shooting straight down to your clit. “So soft and perfect,” he murmured against your skin like he was talking to himself.

Your hips bucked in the air against nothing, seeking the friction your body so desperately craved. A whine wrenched free from your lips. You couldn’t believe how needy you were already, after the knee-shaking orgasm Steve had already given you, but you felt insatiable with your friend’s hands on your body. “Steve, please,” you begged, unsure what you were even pleading for.

Steve grinned against your chest, looking up at you from under thick, dark lashes. “You’re getting the hang of that, angel,” he commented in a casual voice. At your look of confusion, his grin broadened. “Begging.”

Rising up, Steve held you pinned to the blankets with his hand and his gaze as he reached his other hand up to his mouth. His caught the edge of his glove between his teeth and pulled it off, the sight of it making you pant with need. It shouldn’t have been so hot to watch your friend take his glove off, but it was. Then he was sliding his bare hand down your body and under your dress, finding you drenched again—with your first release and your renewed desire.

You squirmed, your pussy still sensitive even as your body begged for more. When Steve dragged the rough pad of his finger over your clit, all you could do was let out a gasping moan. Your hands tugged against his grip, instinctively wanting to push him away from your oversensitive bud.

For his part, Steve seemed to be barely paying you any mind, his warm fingers sliding against your swollen flesh slowly like he was taking his time to explore you. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this pussy for years, angel,” Steve admitted, his gaze fixed wholly on the juncture of your thighs. “I’d lay awake and jerk off to you when you were sleeping right next to me, thinking about what it would feel like to sink my cock into this sweet cunt.” Possessiveness shone bright in Steve’s eyes in the moonlight, making you shiver. “Used to fuck my hand while you were right there, thinking about how wet you’d be for me—and look at you now, angel, fucking soaking my fingers like a good little slut.”

Anger swirled in your chest, battling the pleasure consuming your core, and eventually won out, driving you to speak. “Why didn’t you fuck me then?” you demanded in the same harsh tone you’d used before. That finally pulled Steve’s attention away from your pussy. “I was wet and willing and right fucking there, Steve, why didn’t you fuck me?”

His fingers paused as he stared at you like he’d been struck dumb, but the expression was quickly washed away, frustration replacing it. “I didn’t want to be a creep,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I didn’t know you wanted me to fuck you.”

“God, Steve, why did you think I asked you to cuddle with me?” your voice was rising as your frustration matched his, all the time you’d lost to Steve being unable to read a simple signal pressing down on your chest, your heart beating for all the time you’d lost with him. “I shoved my ass against your cock how many times, hoping you’d take a fucking hint—but you never did!”

A growling roar ripped free from Steve, the sound barely human, before he dove on top of you, his arms digging under your back to hold you so tight, it forced the breath from your lungs. In the next instant, your friend’s lips crashed against yours. The kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle, it was rough and dirty as Steve poured all his months and years of frustration into you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and taking possession. But you met him with all your own frustration, your freed hands digging into his messy blond hair and clinging to the soft strands like only god himself would be able to make you let him go.

Steve trailed his lips down your jaw, then your neck, licking and sucking on your skin hard enough you knew he was going to leave marks, but you didn’t care. You twisted your fingers in his hair and clutched him close to your body, not wanting to let him get too far away. But you needed more, you needed all of him, you needed him to fill you up until he was buried deep inside you. “Steve, please—please,” you begged in a ragged whisper.

Instead of responding with words, though, Steve growled and yanked the front of your dress down to expose your tits, the force of his hand too much for the thin straps and they tore easily. A shocked gasp fell from your lips as your nipples were exposed to the night air, but you couldn’t care less about your cheap dress when Steve descended on your tits, sucking and biting your nipples until you were writhing beneath him, feeling every sting of his teeth like a pulse in your clit.

Frustrated by his lack of attention to your pussy, you snaked a hand down between your legs, managing to circle your poor neglected clit once before Steve’s hand closed around your wrist and he pulled you away with an angry growl. You whimpered as your pussy throbbed with need, looking up at Steve with pleading eyes as he shifted to kneel between your spread thighs. He dropped your hand at your side as if it offended him and you fisted your hands in the blankets to stop yourself from reaching for your needy clit again.

“Let’s get one thing straight, angel,” he said, before tugging his other glove off with his teeth so his bare hand could slip down between your legs, shoving three fingers into your tight hole without preamble. Your back arched up off the blankets and a desperate cry fell from your mouth. “This pussy might be between your legs,” he started, hooking his fingers inside you and pressing against a spot that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids. “But it belongs to me.” He growled, widening his fingers and forcing you to stretch around him, your eyes popping open and going wide as you stared up at him. “Do you understand?” His blue eyes were wild in the moonlight as he stared down at you.

Nodding your head quickly, you had to swallow to get your tongue to work again. “Yes, Steve,” you answered, gasping for air while he stretched you out around his fingers. The stretch stung a little but it felt good to be filled up, even if what you really wanted was his cock. “My pussy belongs to you.”

An evil smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s lips as he stared down at you, squirming under his hands. He shook his head slowly and for a moment you were confused. “Don’t say ‘my’ when it’s not yours, angel,” Steve corrected you.

At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned and bent down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, like a reward for being good for him. When he sat back up, his free hand held the phone he’d used to record you up against the tree. Your pussy clenched at the thought of being recorded again, splayed out on the blankets in the middle of the woods, your dress torn to reveal your tits and the bottom scrunched up around your waist. Though you couldn’t see it, you were sure your hair was a mess and you could feel your headband and the halo askew on your head. Altogether, you knew you looked like a slut and the thought of having it documented for Steve to look at later made your skin tingle and heat all over.

He swiped the camera open and the flash went on, making you wince at the bright light in the darkness. “I want to hear you say it for the camera, angel,” Steve said as he held the phone close to his chest, angling it so he was able to get your face and pussy in the shot. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

With the knowledge that Steve would be watching this later, you were struck with the impulse to perform for the camera. So you stared up into the lens with hooded eyes and you let pleasure soak your voice as you spoke. “This pussy belongs to Steven Grant Rogers,” you declared, spreading your thighs even wider for both Steve and the camera.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, making you smile dreamily. Your hips wriggled, trying to urge his fingers to move and give you some of the friction you desperately needed. But Steve had other ideas. He rotated his hand, his fingers still stuffed deep in your channel and making you cry out at the sensation. He pressed his thumb against the rosebud of your ass. “And who does this ass belong to?” he asked, blue eyes glittering with desire behind the glare of the flash.

Your chest heaved as you panted. For how much of a slut you liked to be, planning to pick up a guy at your friend’s Halloween party, you’d never taken anyone in your ass before. You’d never even really explored it much, except an experimental finger once by yourself, finding it to be weird, thought not entirely unpleasant. But as your hands clawed at the blankets with need and Steve pressed against your tight little hole, sending pulses of delicious pleasure through your body, you thought you might just let your friend be the first to fuck your ass.

“Steve,” you gasped out, your brain shorting out a little bit at the feel of his fingers buried inside your pussy and nudging against your rosebud. “This ass belongs to Steve Rogers.” You looked him dead in the eye when you spoke your next words. “All these holes belong to Steve Rogers.”

“Fuck,” Steve grunted, giving you a couple sloppy thrusts of his fingers in reward, dragging a rough moan from your lips. He watched you squirm on the phone screen, reveling in the way you responded to his touch. “Beg for my cock, angel, beg and I’ll give it to you,” he promised in a low, alluring voice. The permission in his command, like he was offering you an outlet for the desire that was building up inside you. It was all you needed to loosen your tongue.

“God, Steve, I need your cock, need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, staring up into the camera as your hands fisted in the blankets, the heels of your mary janes digging into the ground so you could lift your hips and fuck yourself on his fingers. Your lust only grew, gathering in your body like an impending storm, and your voice turned pleading with a whine as you got needier. “Please fuck this pussy with your huge cock, pound into this tight little hole until I’m screaming for you, Steve, please—please!”

“That’s my girl, that’s my fucking girl,” Steve praised, pulling his fingers from your sopping wet pussy. He shoved them in your mouth and you sucked greedily, eyes slipping closed as you delighted in the taste of your arousal on his hand. You licked them clean under the bright light of the camera’s flash and once you were done, Steve bent down to kiss you fiercely. His tongue swept into your mouth to taste you on your lips, groaning into you. Your fingers dug into his hair to hold him close, but he wrenched himself away, grinning cheekily down at you as he sat up.

Steve reached down to the belt buckle at the front of his dark jeans, pulling his belt free with a rasping sound that had you trying to clench your thighs closed to relieve the ache in your clit. But Steve shook his head. He pulled his zipper down slowly, teasingly, and you were practically vibrating with anticipation. When you tried to reach down and help him, he growled a soft, “No,” shaking his head again. Finally, he reached into his jeans and pulled his cock free.

A gasp escaped your lips and your jaw went slack at the sight of your friend’s cock. You knew he was big, you’d felt him harden against your ass enough times on his couch to know that much, but seeing him in all his glory was another thing entirely. Steve’s cock was thick, his own fingers barely meeting as he fisted his dick and stroked up the length. You could feel your pussy gush with even more wetness as you stared at Steve’s cock, eying the veins running up the length to a wide mushroom tip. Almost dazedly, you reached down, wanting to see how big he looked with your smaller hand wrapped around his girth.

Steve batted your hand away before fisting his dick again and pressing the tip to your tiny hole. With his other hand, he held the phone closer to where your bodies met, getting a closer shot of his cock resting on your pussy. He looked so fucking big, you didn’t know how he could possibly fit, but in the same breath you wanted him to make it fit inside your tight channel. You wanted him to fuck you hard and rough until you were screaming yourself raw like he’d promised.

You wanted him to put it in already, but he didn’t, just held your wriggling hips down while he slid his hard length against your drenched folds, getting the full length soaked in your arousal before settling his dick between your spread thighs. He paused, gritting his teeth, and you watched his jaw tic as he stared at the phone screen, transfixed by the sight of his big cock against your pussy. He stopped recording and pressed his fists into the blanket on either side of your shoulders as he leaned over you, looking down into your face.

“If you want me to wear a condom, you better tell me now,” he bit out through barely leashed need. When his blue eyes met yours, they were practically wild with desire.

It stole your breath, the way Steve stared at you like you were his entire world. But you shook your head as you looked up at him. “I don’t have one,” you murmured. You hadn’t had anywhere to keep it in your dress, so you’d given it to Kate to hold in her pocket, planning to snag it from her once you’d found a guy to take upstairs. But, of course, Steve had taken you outside and you’d been too curious and turned on by the stranger in the Ghostface mask to stop him so you could track down your friend.

Steve’s blue eyes flared with hunger and a little big of anger—but the anger seemed to win out. “What were you gonna do if the guy you picked up didn’t have one, angel?” he demanded, in a harsh voice. “You were gonna let some random stranger fuck you with his bare cock?” he asked, leaning over you so his face was hovering above yours. Anger and a little bit of fear swirled in his bright blue eyes. “You were gonna let some fucking guy raw you—you were gonna risk him knocking you up?”

The way he spoke to you, the way he was looking at you, all you could think was that Steve was glorious with fury contorting his handsome face into something feral. It occurred to you that you should be scared, that you could use your safe word—or you could explain that Kate had the protection you’d brought to the party—but all you felt was need. It was almost overwhelming how much you wanted Steve in that moment, your pussy flooding, your desire for him consuming you and holding your tongue. All you could do was stare up at your friend with a dazed look on your face.

When you didn’t respond or defend yourself, Steve tsked at you, shaking his head. He wrangled his anger under control with some visible effort, shoving a hand through his hair, making the blond strands even messier. “So fucking irresponsible, angel,” he admonished, his breathing heavy. Even at those chastising words, your need only flared hotter. “Well if you were happy to let a random stranger fuck you raw then you won’t mind if I do, huh?” he asked, his intense gaze reading your expression as he spoke, gauging your reaction to his words. “If you’re gonna get knocked up tonight, it’s gonna be by me.”

A jolt of need pulsed through your body straight to your core, your inner walls clenching pathetically around nothing, begging to be filled. You moaned loudly at Steve’s words and their effect on you. You wanted him so badly you finally remembered how to speak. “Please Steve, fuck me bare,” you begged. “Knock me up, I don’t care, just fuck me—please!” You were so desperate, tears were stinging your eyes and your hips were bucking up in the air, pussy sliding against his cock.

For a moment, Steve just stared at you, his hard jaw slack and his blue eyes dazed in the moonlight as if he were shocked by how much you seemed to want him and the filthy things he said. Then he seemed to snap out of whatever trance your words had put him in and he tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes closed while his hands gripped your thighs hard. He groaned up into the sky, sounding almost tortured.

“Fuck, angel,” he grunted, dragging his head up so he could stare down at you. “Such a filthy fucking slut begging me to knock you up—then you’d really be mine, wouldn’t you?” he asked, his voice so fucking eager. Your heart beat wildly, matching his enthusiasm.

Steve fisted his cock in one hand, lining it up at your entrance and teasing you by pushing the rounded tip against your little hole. “Is that what you want, want to be all fucking mine?” he asked, a feral grin curling the edges of his mouth as he caught your eye. “Want me to tattoo ‘Property of Steve Rogers’ over this cunt?” Still holding your gaze captive with his own, he brought his thick cock down on your clit, giving it a hard smack and making you jerk as pleasure and a tiny bit of pain surged through you.

He chuckled darkly at your reaction, then refocused on where his cock pressed against your hole. He pushed until the broad head slipped inside your dripping pussy, your walls stretching and enveloping him, drawing ragged moans from both of you. “Let’s see you try to pick up other guys with my name branded on your skin,” he muttered almost as if to himself, gritting his teeth as he slowly pushed deeper, making you take inch after inch of his thick cock.

“Oh god, Steve, fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” you babbled, his possessive words making you moan almost as much as the feel of him stretching your tight hole. Maybe it was the way it felt like he was reconstructing you, altering your body to fit himself inside, but the thought of having his name branded on you didn’t sound half bad. It was possessive, but in that moment you wanted to be possessed. “Never knew you could be like this, never knew you could fuck me like this,” you confessed, staring up into Steve’s face. His expression contorted in determination and you cried out when he shoved the last few inches of his cock into your pussy.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, angel,” he growled in your ear, not giving you any time to adjust to the feel of him filling you up before he was pulling out and pumping his thick cock back into you. “And I’m the only one who’s gonna be fucking you from now on, right angel?” He punctuated his question with a rough thrust, the tip of his cock battering the end of you, making you squirm and writhe, but Steve just pinned you down harder on the blankets with his hips.

Your thighs were splayed wide, riding up the sides of his body while you clung to his shoulders, one hand buried in his blond hair and the other fisting in his black t-shirt. You felt ruined, he’d ruined you and he’d barely even started to fuck you. “Yes—god yes, Steve, only you,” you answered easily, knowing no one else would ever be able to fuck you the way your friend could. “Do whatever you want with my body, it’s yours, all of it—every hole, every inch is yours.”

A pleased grin pulled up the corners of Steve’s mouth and when he kissed you, you could feel it against your lips before he sank into you. The sweep of his tongue in your mouth was possessive and you melted into him, loving the feel of him claiming you with his lips. When he pulled away, he dropped a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth and only then did you realize you were smiling, so happy to be his.

Steve thrust into you hard, and your mouth fell open around a loud moan. “That’s my girl, such a sweet little slut,” he mumbled as he sat up on his knees. From beside you, Steve snatched up the phone and he swiped to the camera, holding the device above your body and angling it to get all of you in the shot.

For a moment, you were puzzled when the flash didn’t turn on, but you didn’t have long to ponder it when he was working your body so expertly. Your friend pulled his cock out slowly, dragging his thickness against your stretched walls, making you feel every inch of him. Without warning, Steve thrust back inside, filling you up with a quick, brutal stroke. Your spine curved and your eyes rolled back in your head as your lips parted in a lusty moan. Distractedly, you were aware of a quick flash of light.

When you settled, as much as you could with his giant cock stuffed so deep in your pussy you felt like you could feel him in your stomach, you looked up at Steve. He wore an eager grin. “See how pretty you look stretched out and cock-drunk for me,” he said, turning the phone so you could see the photo he’d taken.

There you were, and you looked positively debauched. Your legs were spread wide and forced open around Steve’s strong thighs, your pussy stretched wide around his thick cock. He’d caught you at the exact right moment and your body was arched up toward the sky, your tits bared and nipples peaked. But it was your face that really conveyed how much pleasure you were in in that moment—your mouth was slack, your tongue nearly hanging out over your bottom lip and your eyes were rolled back in your head so only the whites were visible. It was easily the most sensual photo that had ever been taken of you and you loved it, your eyes looking at it greedily as your pussy gushed with more arousal.

Too soon, Steve turned the phone back to himself, and you could see the same hunger in his blue gaze as he stared at the photo. He loved it just as much as you did, maybe even more. “Look so hot, angel, such a pretty little fucktoy,” he murmured. Then his gaze fixed on you, spread out beneath him and he tilted his head to the side as if considering something.

You squirmed, wanting him to move, but also wanting to know what he was thinking. Whatever it was, you already knew you’d agree. You’d agree to anything Steve said or asked you to do if it meant he’d fuck you with that big cock of his.

“Should I send this to Bucky, angel?” he asked, and you froze. Steve’s eyes were bright and intense as he watched you for your reaction.

Of all the things you’d thought he might say, that wasn’t one of them. Since entering the woods with Steve, you’d forgotten Bucky even existed and you couldn’t believe you’d considered letting him fuck you instead of your closest guy friend. You felt a little ashamed at how you’d almost thrown yourself at the brown-haired man and you felt your face flush with heat.

“He told me how needy you were acting with him, how you practically humped his leg in the kitchen,” Steve said in a conversational tone and you stared at him hard. For how possessive he’d acted, you expected him to be angry and jealous, but he just seemed amused. He must’ve seen your confusion written all over your face because he grinned and explained. “I know how he looks at you, angel, I know he’d love to get inside your sweet little pussy.” Steve placed his free hand down over your pelvis, the gesture so fucking possessive it took your breath away. “But I also know he wouldn’t touch you without my permission.”

You shivered at the certainty in Steve’s voice, goosebumps rising all over your skin at the implication of his words. Not only had he and his best friend both talked about how much they wanted to fuck you, but Steve had wanted you enough to lay claim to you to his friends. It was in that moment you realized this was far more than a one night stand to Steve and you immediately felt relieved. If he was telling his friends to back off, he wanted more and you decided you were only too happy to give him more.

Steve was grinning down at you as he watched you process what he’d told you, going on when it seemed he had your attention again. “Bucky was nice enough to help me set all this up and get you out here,” Steve explained, gesturing around at the blankets in the woods. “I think he deserves a little thank you, don’t you? Should we show him exactly how much of a needy little slut you are, letting me raw you in the woods?” There was a teasing curve to Steve’s grin, like he didn’t expect you to say yes.

But, for how long you and Steve had been friends, he didn’t know everything about you, and he clearly didn’t anticipate how his words, his suggestion, would make you burn with need. The thought of him telling his friends not to touch you because you were his before he’d even had you was hot enough, but the idea of him rubbing it in Bucky’s face by sending his best friend the photo he’d taken of you fucked out on his cock was even hotter. “Do it,” you said, looking Steve dead in the eye. “This body is yours, Steve, if you want to share it with Bucky, then do it.”

Steve’s face went slack with surprise and it was his turn to freeze. His face was still except for his eyes, which raced around your expression, trying to gauge if you were serious or not. After a moment, as if he came to a decision, he ordered, “Remind me of your safe word, angel.”

You titled your head in confusion but replied obediently. “Sidney.” Then you pressed your lips into a firm line and raised an eyebrow in a challenge.

Leaning down over you, Steve kissed your lips until you relented, melting under him. When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to yours and looking you in the eye. “You can use it at any time about anything,” he reminded you. “If you don’t like something I say or something I say I’m going to do, you have to promise me you’ll use it."

Pouting, you said, “I’m not gonna use it, Steve.” When you lifted up, trying to capture his lips in another kiss, he backed off and you whined softly. “Fuck, just send the photo to Bucky,” you muttered exasperatedly, flopping back on the blankets. “I want you to—the thought of him seeing me stuffed full of your cock makes me so wet,” you groaned, your pussy clenching down on his thick length.

Steve’s hips rutted into you reflexively, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to still. “You’re not thinking straight, you’re thinking with your pussy,” he accused through his clenched jaw, the words coming out harsh.

You bucked your hips, fucking yourself on his cock for a few strokes before he settled his weight more firmly on top of you, pinning you to the blankets. “How is this different to me telling you to raw me?” you demanded, getting more and more frustrated with every moment he spent not fucking you. “Sending a pic of me to Bucky is less risky, if you think about it.”

Expression contorting into one of irritation, Steve stared down at you. “You think I’d actually risk knocking you up?” he asked, but didn’t give you time to answer before he went on. “I know you’re on birth control because you complained about it to me—you also told me when you got tested after your last partner and were relieved it came back all good.” His blue eyes were wild with frustration as he looked at you. “I’m your friend, remember?”

Tears swam in your eyes at the realization Steve had been listening to you more closely than you realized. When you grabbed his face and pulled him down for a fierce kiss, he let you. He let you apologize with your lips for a moment before he took over, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and tangling with yours at the same time he rolled his hips against you. You moaned into his mouth, wrenching away to pant at the feel of his thick cock stretching you. “Steve!” you cried on a gasp.

He grinned and kissed you once more before leaning up and grabbing the phone. He held it up to your face and said, “Look at the phone, angel.” When you did, the screen lit up and unlocked. For a stunned second you thought he’d somehow added your face ID to his phone, but then the home screen appeared and you realized it was your phone. Steve had been using your phone the whole time, recording you to your own camera roll. He’d only be able to see the videos and photos again if you sent them to him. Your jaw dropped a little at the realization, your heart warming and clenching in your chest.

Steve didn’t seem to notice your reaction as he navigated to the camera roll. “I’m sending the photo to myself so I can make it my background,” he said, but looked to you, only doing what he said when you nodded. “We’ll talk about Bucky later,” he promised, before tossing the phone down on the blanket next to you and covering you with his body, his cock sinking deeper into your pussy.

“Please, Steve, I need you to fuck me,” you begged, your legs wrapping around his waist as much as possible while you clung to his shoulders, holding him down on top of you.

His hips gave a short thrust and you both groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good on my cock, angel,” he muttered, his hands digging under your body and gripping your ass in his big palms, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “So fucking tight and perfect—like you were made to take my cock.” His hands kneaded your ass as he fucked you, grunting with the effort while you sighed beneath him. When you felt his middle finger press against the tight rosebud of your ass, you jerked a little and he grinned down at you. “You gonna let me fuck this ass one day, angel?”

Again, you marveled at how strange, yet oddly good it felt to feel Steve press against your tight hole. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to speak. “Never done that before,” you confessed, catching his eye and letting him see how wild he made you. “But yes, Steve, I want you to fuck my ass.”

The grin that pulled across Steve’s face was salacious, taking all the heat out of his tone when he tsked at you. “There you go again saying this ass is yours when we both know it belongs to me, don’t we, angel?” He raised his eyebrows and you bit your lip, trying to look chastened when you just wanted to grin right back at him. “I forgive you though,” he said, dropping a kiss on your nose. “Since you’re gonna let me be your first.” He slanted his lips against yours and gave you a deep, heady kiss, that left you dizzy and reeling.

You still hadn’t recovered when Steve was leaning up and dragging his cock free of your pussy. With gentle but strong hands, Steve flipped you over onto your stomach, manhandling you into position, pulling you up onto your knees. Before you even realized what he was doing, Steve had you face down and ass up. In the next moment, he shoved his dick back in your dripping wet slit, making you moan loudly with your cheek pressed into the blankets.

Steve bent over your back and ran his thumb along your lower lip. “Open up, angel,” he murmured. You obeyed immediately, taking his finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. “Get it nice and wet,” he urged in a deep rumbling tone. With his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his warmth sinking into your skin even through his t-shirt and the remnants of your dress. “We’ll need to start getting you ready if you’re gonna take my cock anytime soon.”

Excitement had your pussy clenching down on Steve’s cock—you were just as eager as he was. Everything your friend had done to you had felt amazing and you were sure Steve would make stretching out your tight ass feel just as good. Smiling around Steve’s thumb, you did as he said, letting saliva pool in your mouth and using your tongue to get his finger totally wet. All the while, Steve thrust lazily into your cunt, not hard or fast enough to be driving either of you to release, but enough to keep a low heat simmering in your body and lighting up your limbs.

When Steve was satisfied with how wet you’d gotten his thumb, he pulled it out, giving you a smacking kiss on the cheek, and then sat up. “Hold yourself open for me, angel,” he ordered in a gravelly voice, still managing to soften the command with a sweetness that was all Steve. It helped that there was a thread of excitement in his tone that matched the feeling thrumming through your veins.

Reaching around behind you, you grabbed an ass cheek in each hand, spreading yourself obscenely for your friend. Steve’s cock managed to slip into your pussy another little bit, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you shriek into the blankets. With your hands on your ass, the side of your face was smashed into the blankets and you were thankful Steve had piled them thickly enough you didn’t feel any rocks or anything underneath.

“Good girl,” Steve murmured, holding his cock still inside you. Over your shoulder, you heard him spit and a second later felt the warmth of his saliva hitting the crack of your ass, sliding down over your rosebud and to your slit. Steve circled his thumb around your hole, using both of your spit as lubrication to press his finger against you. When the tight ring of muscle didn’t give, Steve murmured in a soothing rumble, “Relax, angel, relax for me, let me in.”

You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the blankets—they smelled like Steve. Not like the scent of the woods and earth that clung to him tonight, but like clean laundry and fresh air. They smelled like Steve when you were on his couch, perfectly relaxed in the circle of his arms. It was easy to calm yourself when you were surrounded by the comforting smell of your friend, and when he was being so careful with you at the same time he was talking to you and fucking you like a dirty slut. Focusing on your ass, you relaxed yourself, letting your body unclench and open up for him.

Steve pushed the tip of his thumb past the tight ring of muscle, wringing a jagged, broken moan from your lips. Your fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass so you wouldn’t let go. He didn’t stop to let you get used to the feeling of his thumb breaching your ass, but took his time as he pressed deeper and deeper. He only stopped once his thumb was fully lodged in your hole. His other four fingers splayed across your lower back as he held you possessively, his thumb hooked inside you.

You felt so full, almost overwhelmingly so, and that was just his thumb. It felt good, deliciously dirty even, but with how much a single finger stretched your tiny hole, you had serious concerns about whether Steve would ever be able to fit his cock inside you there. But you didn’t have time to worry about that because Steve pressed his thumb down against the thin membrane separating his finger from his cock, drawing an obscene moan from your mouth.

“Ya like that, angel?” he asked teasingly. His voice was slightly breathless, and you could hear his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, like he was trying to hold himself back. “Like feeling me fill up both these holes?” He pushed deeper with both his cock and thumb at the same time, making you scream at the feel of both intrusions hitting as deep as they could go.

“Yes, god Steve, fuck, so good,” you babbled, your mind going blank at the feel of Steve inside your pussy and ass. It was all you could do to arch your back and hold yourself spread open for him, eager to feel everything he could give you. “I can’t—I didn’t know—fuck, please give it to me, Steve, please, I need—fuck me, please,” you begged, almost incoherent on his cock and finger. The way he filled you up was almost too much, more than you’d ever felt before with another partner or yourself, but the edge he forced you to walk felt so fucking good. You couldn’t believe you’d misjudged Steve so badly, that you’d thought he was too much of a gentleman to give you the rough and dirty sex you craved, but he was exactly who you needed.

A dark chuckle rumbled up in Steve’s chest and poured past his lips, skating over your skin like the ghost of a caress. The sound was full of sin and promise and a little bit of awe, making you clench down on him with both holes. “And to think,” he began, pulling his cock out of your pussy oh so slowly to make sure you could feel how much bigger he felt with his thumb in your ass. “You scoffed at the thought of me being able to fuck you like the filthy little slut you are."

“Wh-what?” you mumbled. For one impossible second, you wondered if he’d somehow read your thoughts. The way he’d read your body all night and given you exactly what you needed made it seem kind of possible, though even your lust-drunk mind managed to bury that preposterous thought. You worried you’d accidentally spoken out loud, but it turned out it wasn’t either of those things.

“I heard you, angel,” Steve bit out in a gravelly tone, frustration lacing his deep voice. “I heard you on the phone with your friends when you were at my place last week,” he explained. “You told them you didn’t think I could fuck you like a slut, but I knew you were wrong.” He punctuated his last word by thrusting back inside your pussy, making you cry out and jerk forward on your knees. Steve hauled you back against him with a firm grip, driving himself so deep you could’ve sworn you could feel him in your throat.

You felt silly for a second. Of course he’d overheard you, you hadn’t been as sneaky as you could’ve been. If you were honest with yourself, you’d hoped he would overhear and do something about it. Even if you hadn’t been actively trying to tempt Steve with your words, a small part of you had hoped to elicit a reaction. It turned out it had worked, it’d just taken Steve a little longer—and a pair of hot Halloween costumes—to prove you wrong.

“So I figured,” Steve went on when you didn’t respond, setting a furious pace with his hips thrusting his cock into your needy pussy. Your moans were so loud and uninhibited, you almost didn’t hear what he said next. “Halloween is the perfect time for tricks, and I’ve earned a treat, don’t you think?” Steve gripped your hair with his free hand, yanking your head back.

With your hands still on your ass, you were completely at his mercy, and it felt fucking divine. All you could do was take Steve’s cock and listen to his words, and what he said next only drove your need to new heights.

“I’ve been such a good friend to you, angel, I deserve a little thank you—I deserve this,” he growled, shoving his big dick into your slick hole with a particularly rough thrust, making you shriek at the pleasure and pain of feeling him so deep. “Look at you,” he practically cooed. “Bent over for me, taking my cock and thumb in these tight little holes,” he said, pulling his thumb out and shoving it deep at the same time he thrust his cock inside. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth opened on a strangled scream. “And you’re enjoying it just as much as I am, like a good little slut.” He repeated the movement of thrusting both his thumb and cock into your holes, driving you wild with the sensations. “My good little slut.”

Your heart thumped at the possessiveness in Steve’s voice, but you didn’t have time to think about how far gone you already were for your friend, not when Steve was treating you like his own personal fucktoy and your mind was overloaded with pleasure. “Fuck, Steve fuck,” you babbled. His words made you so hot and you wanted to talk dirty to him right back. “You do deserve this,” you said between gasping moans. “You were so good to me, and I was so wrong thinking someone else could give me what I needed.” On one particularly brutal thrust, you let out a sob of pleasure, hardly aware of what you were saying, just knowing it felt right. “But they can’t, you’re the only one who deserves these holes—only you, Steve, only you!”

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, holding his thumb deep in your ass as his cock plunged into your pussy faster and faster. “You’ll never stick me in the friendzone again, will you angel?”

“Oh god, no, never,” you answered immediately, not even able to fathom going back to just being friends with Steve. If you had to fall asleep in his arms one more time without getting his cock deep in your cunt, you didn’t know what you’d do. You’d have to take matters into your own hands because now that you’d had his cock, you couldn’t imagine giving it up.

“You’re mine, isn’t that right, angel?” Steve bit out through gritted teeth as he fucked you. He was breathing heavily but his pace never slowed and you didn’t know how much more you could take, he was pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. “‘Property of Steve Rogers’?”

“Ye-es,” you agreed on a broken moan, needing to swallow past your dry, scratchy throat before you could say more. “Yours, Steve, tattoo it on my pussy so I’ll never forget,” you babbled, barely caring about what you were agreeing to, just knowing the dirty words made you hotter. “Please, Steve, you own me, I belong to you.”

“That’s my fucking girl,” Steve praised in a ragged voice. He drilled his cock into you fast and rough, his thumb still lodged as deep in your ass as it could go. “You’re mine and I can do whatever I want with your holes—maybe share you with Bucky, would you like that, angel?”

The thought of Steve and his best friend both fucking you at the same time nearly pushed you over the edge, but you held off, wanting to last as long as possible. You felt so good, you just wanted it to last forever. But Steve had burned into your brain the idea of being filled up by more than just Steve’s cock and thumb and it was all you could think about. “God, yes, yes, wanna be filled by two cocks,” you groaned, admitting your fantasy all too easily to your friend.

Steve only chuckled and the sound was pure sin. His hand gripping your hair pulled you back up from where you’d slumped down on the blankets so you were dangling over the soft surface. “Such a greedy little fucktoy, angel,” he admonished good-naturedly, the breathlessness in his voice the only indication of how your body and words were affecting him. But Steve proved once again he was exactly what you needed with his next filthy suggestion. “What if we ignored your sweet pussy, angel, what if I filled your ass while Bucky fucked your throat—would you still be just as eager for two cocks?”

His words only made you gush more, your wetness dripping down his cock to his balls as he pounded into you. “Yes,” you answered on a gasp. You were so close, you were pretty sure you’d agree to anything because everything Steve said sounded good to you. “Use any holes you want, just use me, fuck me, please, Steve,” you bit out around gasps and loud moans.

“Rub your clit,” Steve ordered in a jagged tone. “Rub your little clit so I can feel you come all over my cock like the filthy fucking slut you are.”

Immediately, you let go of your ass with one hand, eagerly sliding it around to your front to do as Steve said. You pressed tight little circles into your clit and, with how close to the edge you already were, it didn’t take long for the pleasure to push you right up to the precipice of your release. But it wasn’t until Steve growled out his next words that you fell over the edge.

“Come for me, angel, come for me,” he urged. His voice was low and sweet, with a hint of desperation that almost made it sound like he was begging. It was that thrum of neediness in your friend’s voice that did you in.

After everything Steve had said and done to you, his big cock pummeling your cunt and his thumb stretching out your ass, while he ordered you to rub your clit and practically begged you to come for him, it was all too much for you to take. You could feel your orgasm swell like a tidal wave inside you and, for just a second, you worried about the devastation it would have on your body, heart and soul. Then, with one last driving thrust of Steve’s cock, he sent you careening over the edge.

You came with a scream, the sound piercingly loud, splitting open the quiet of the woods and leaving your throat feeling raw. The pleasure swept over you, wiping away everything else until you didn’t know where you ended and Steve began. For a brief moment, it felt like you were floating in a sea of pleasure, weightless and surrounded by it. But then you crashed back into your body and you knew you’d never be the same, your arms and legs shaking hard as wave after wave of pleasure flowed through your limbs.

“Fuck, gripping me so tight, angel, ‘m gonna come,” Steve gritted out through clenched teeth, still thrusting into your spasming pussy, fucking you through your orgasm and drawing it out. “You feel so good coming on my cock.” Steve groaned, muttering, “Fuck, fuck.” His hips rutted against you in short, wild thrusts as he chased his own release, and he wasn’t far behind you. “Take my come, angel, take it—take it,” he demanded and with one last thrust, he shoved his cock deep in your pussy and came.

Steve let out a sound that was so animalistic, you didn’t know if you could call it a groan, but it was so dirty, it made your pussy clench down on his cock. Then you could feel his dick twitch in your cunt, his load spilling into you and filling you with warmth. You moaned, pushing back on his cock and trying to take him deeper, the feel of him pulsing deep inside your core feeding the delicious aftershocks of your own release. For long moments, you and Steve hung suspended together in your pleasure, riding out your orgasms together while his come leaked from your pussy and dripped down to the blankets beneath you.

Gently, Steve disentangled his hand from your hair, guiding your head down to the blankets. With the same tender care, he eased his thumb from your tight behind and pulled his cock out of your still fluttering channel. Before you could fall over, unable to hold yourself up with how boneless and satiated you felt, Steve helped you roll onto your side. He laid down behind you, wrapping his arms around you and gathering you against his chest while you curled up in his arms. He held you tightly as you both calmed down.

The night had turned a little chilly but you felt plenty warm in Steve’s arms. Still, you couldn’t relax fully when everything that had happened and been said between you and your friend kept replaying in your mind. “Steve?” you started in a tentative voice. Without being able to see his face, you didn’t know exactly how he felt about everything, but you needed to know. “If we’re not just friends anymore, what are we?”

Steve squeezed you tight with his arms, his faced buried in your neck. “Fuck, angel,” he mumbled on a deep exhale, his voice a little muffled, but you still heard him loud and clear. “I’m trying really hard not to beg you to marry me over here.”

Your heart surged with happiness and you giggled, the sound light as air. “I might say yes,” you whispered, your hands clinging to his arms around you like you worried he’d try to escape after your admission.

But Steve didn’t try to pull away, he only pressed his chest closer against your back, groaning loudly like you were killing him. “Don’t fucking say that if you don’t mean it, angel,” he warned.

Laughing so much your shoulders shook, you could feel the answering smile on Steve’s lips when he pressed a kiss to your neck. “I do seem to have a problem with agreeing to anything you want when you’re buried inside me, don’t I?” you asked teasingly.

“Mhmm,” Steve agreed with a rumbling sound, trailing little kisses up your neck until his mouth was right next to your ear. “Don’t worry, angel, I won’t hold you to any of those promises,” he assured you, his voice low and thrumming with happiness.

You hummed happily, the corners of your mouth pulling up in an evil grin as you said, “I don’t know, I think I might still get that ‘property of Steve Rogers’ tattoo.”

Steve froze, his mouth pressed against the underside of your jaw mid-kiss. Then he nipped at your skin, making you giggle. He shifted until you were on your back and he hovered over you, his blue eyes shining bright and excitedly in the moonlight. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, angel,” he warned again, his expression reluctant like he was too nervous to hope you were being serious.

Digging your hands into his soft blond hair, you pulled him down to you for a kiss. It started soft and sweet, but quickly turned filthy when Steve licked into your mouth, his tongue twining with yours. He kissed you possessively and left you gasping for air when he pulled away. His blue eyes were still guarded, and you wanted to reassure him. Looking him directly in the eye, you said, “You’re it for me, Steve, I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was trying to make sure you weren’t just talking in the heat of the moment. But when you looked at him with all the seriousness of how you felt, a smile dawned over his face, his expression brightening as if he were lit from the inside. “Thank fuck,” he groaned, ducking down for another kiss. You giggled against his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.

Steve rolled you both onto your sides while you made out on the blankets. When he pulled back, he looked at you fondly, stroking his hand down your face.

“You’re mine, too, right?” you asked with a soft smile. You already knew he was, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He smiled right back at you, a little bit of self-deprecation in his expression. “Angel, I’ve been yours since the first time you fell asleep in my arms.” He sighed heavily. “I liked being your friend, it would’ve been enough for me, really, but I had to know.”

When you kissed him, your teeth clacked against his because you both couldn’t stop smiling. Laughing, you stared at him with all the adoration you felt clear in your eyes.

“Does this mean you’re not angry about the trick I played?” Steve asked, a little hesitantly, as he trailed a finger over your lower lip. At your confused look, he explained. “With the Ghostface mask.”

Realization hit you and for a second you didn’t understand why you might be angry about that. But then, of course, you understood that he’d been pretending to be a stranger when he’d found you on the dance floor. Truthfully, though, you were glad it was Steve, and you told him as much. “No, if I’m honest, I wanted it to be you,” you confessed.

He looked surprised for a moment before his mouth widened into a happy grin. He pulled you tight against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt his laugh rumble in his chest before you heard it. “Good, because I’ve got some ideas about some other tricks to play on you—some that might involve Bucky if you were serious about that.”

Heat sizzled through your core, your clit pulsing at the suggestion, and your hips wiggled against Steve. “I was serious if you were,” you said, a bit of a challenge in your tone. You could hear the grin in Steve’s voice when he replied.

“Oh I was,” he assured you in a darkly pleased voice. “Now that you’re mine, I’ll give you plenty of tricks and treats, angel,” he promised. You hummed happily cuddling into Steve’s chest, feeling the warmth of him soak into your skin.

After a little while, though, the cold October night penetrated the happy little bubble you and Steve had created and you shivered hard in his arms. Steve dropped a kiss to the crown of your head and then he was pulling you up. He wrapped you in the blanket from the top of the pile, pulling it tight around your shoulders and letting it hang down to your feet. He typed out a quick text to Bucky to ask his friend to gather up the rest of the blankets and store them in Sam’s garage.

Steve led you through the woods, not back the way you’d come but in a different direction, until you broke through the tree line and onto one of the roads that ran past Sam’s neighborhood. Steve’s car was a little ways away and he led you to it, tucking you into the passenger seat before getting in himself. He handed you your phone from his pocket, and you texted your friends that you were going home with him. Before they could even respond, you promised to fill them in later, then shut your phone off.

You fell asleep on the drive back to Steve’s apartment and only roused when he helped you out of the car. He was kind and patient with you as he helped you undress and clean up, both of you taking a quick shower. Then he gave you one of his shirts to wear and tucked you into his bed before sliding in behind you. Steve’s arms wrapped around you and you could feel and smell him everywhere. You fell asleep with a smile on your lips, safe and sound and happy in the arms of your friend, your man, Steve Rogers.

6K notes · View notes

mogarukes · 2 years ago

Text

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day.

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it.

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid.

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked.

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress.

A fucking princess style, out of all.

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing.

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband.

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle.

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph.

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch.

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows.

True was his possessiveness.

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket.

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs.

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion.

“You look beautiful, Princess.”

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment.

It was also his pride in owning you.

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises.

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek.

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did.

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass.

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you.

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out.

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body.

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous.

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole.

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him.

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet.

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger.

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire.

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it.

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp.

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission.

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender.

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head.

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation.

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue.

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers.

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool?

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe.

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear.

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well.

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you.

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom.

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion.

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much.

And you feared how you may react to it.

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth?

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned.

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him.

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way.

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage.

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way.

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core.

Shit! No!

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet!

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look.

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches.

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes.

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized.

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers.

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement.

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them.

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared.

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity.

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper:

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you.

You were a prey fully ensnared.

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments.

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin.

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back.

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled.

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning.

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.”

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted.

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you.

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs.

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit.

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need.

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing.

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife.

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency.

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to.

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves.

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage.

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers.

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked.

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring.

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily.

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it.

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive.

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it.

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties.

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged.

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick.

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction.

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.”

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds.

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery.

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well.

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses.

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit.

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it.

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee.

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it.

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you.

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry.

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound.

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-”

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes.

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower.

It almost touched your clit.

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.”

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure.

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief.

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it.

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered.

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you.

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel.

“Good girl,” he praised.

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets.

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that.

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you.

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made.

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran.

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back.

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan.

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.”

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you.

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it.

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery.

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth.

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation.

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch.

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you.

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body.

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist.

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way.

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.”

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock.

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke.

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back.

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you.

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again.

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen.

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream.

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good.

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples.

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl.

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped.

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching.

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care.

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue.

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more.

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass.

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body.

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal.

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth.

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?”

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too.

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress.

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head.

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you.

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching.

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did.

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release.

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him.

“Fuck, Princess.” He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.”

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend.

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth.

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either.

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him.

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment.

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.”

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you.

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out.

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

987 notes · View notes