cevansswhore

[cevansswhore]

GOT WHAT YOU WANTED

summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.

now spinning: too many nights by metro & future

word count: 11.5k

warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)

truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry. 

it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs. 

those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.

to jj that is. 

you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.

jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you. 

“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this. 

“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire. 

jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.

“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.

“other.. boy?”

“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.

“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”

“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”

“no. it didn’t come up.”

“ah. got it.”

“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.

“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.

you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.

“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”

“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”

“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.” “no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-” “just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve. 

and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.

but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it. 

you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”

“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you. 

“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.

“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.

“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it. 

it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.

“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”

“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.

“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”

“guys-”

“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”

“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”

“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.

“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj. 

whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.

“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”

“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”

“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.

“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”

“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.

“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.” 

“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.

“no, she’s not.” 

“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-” “m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”

“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”

“no you fuckin’ don’t.”

“who are you to tell me-”

“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”

you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.

“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”

“what else do you want me to say, huh?”

“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”

“m’not ignoring anything-”

“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”

“shut up.”

“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”

“what? what do you want?”

“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”

“don’t talk like that.”

“rafe.” 

exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you. 

that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet. 

you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with. 

the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.

rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.

“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out. 

you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.

“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.

“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.

“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”

“is that your way of apologizing?”

“it’s not an apology.”

“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“i didn’t.”

“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”

rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.

“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.

“thanks rafe.”

“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window. 

“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.

“kid.” 

“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.

“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.

“but you get to do it?” 

“that’s different-”

“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.

“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”

“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”

“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”

“rafe. shut up.”

“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea  you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”

“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”

“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”

“rafe?” “yeah?”

“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.

“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”

“goodbye, rafe.” 

you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.

sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality. 

then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you. 

key word: maybe.

the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement. 

maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.

you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.

.☘︎ ݁˖

rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him. 

“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”

“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.

“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.

“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”

“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.

“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.

“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”

“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”

“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”

“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”

“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”

“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.

“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”

“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.

“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.” 

“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.

he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped. 

when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning. 

you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.

if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you. 

kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.

“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.

“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.

“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water. 

“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”

“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.

“then shut up ‘bout it.”

“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.

when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.

“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you. 

the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.

“yeah. i guess i am.”

you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.

“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.

“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”

“you need a ride?”

“no, i drove here, remember?” 

“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”

“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.” “yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.

“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.

“talk about it? talk about what?”

“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”

“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.

“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.

“oh my god-”

“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.

“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”

“what? your mom let me in.”

“you didn’t even text-”

“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”

“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”

“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.

“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.

“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”

“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.

“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”

“oh.”

“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.

“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.

“what about that girl?”

“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”

“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”

“oh. okay. promise?”

“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.

“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.

“alright. get on the bed.”

“rafe-”

“what? i just said-”

“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”

“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”

“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”

“ha-ha. get on the bed.”

“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”

“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”

you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe. 

you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head. 

the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.

rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.

“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.

“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.

he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.

“you wearin’ anything under this?” 

he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no. 

“good girl.” 

your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties. 

you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.

“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”

before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.

“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!” 

“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”

you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.

you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you. 

rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers. 

“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand. 

limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.

“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?

“nothin’.” 

“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”

“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now. “well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.

“what?” 

“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea. 

he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to. 

“god, you’re such a boy.”

“shut up.” 

“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.

“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.

“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.

“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.

“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”

“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away. 

you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.

you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.

he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder. 

your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.

with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours. 

you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.

he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy. 

rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.

“you didn’t last very long.” 

“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”

“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”

“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.

“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay. 

you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry. 

“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest. 

“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”

“your parents are downstairs, remember?”

“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.

“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”

“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”

“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.

“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes. 

“why? got nowhere else to be.”

“oh. okay.”

“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”

“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.

“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.

and the part where you slept with your best friend.

a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.

top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere

kelce: maybe princess finally killed him

top: stop hanging out without us

kelce: top lets just pull up next time

you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.

“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.” 

“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”

“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”

rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.

“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”

you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.

“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”

rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.

“you wanna say that again?”

“uhh-”

“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”

“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”

“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.

“get out!”

“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”

“okay! wait, stay.”

“s’what i thought.”

“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.

“you woke me up.” 

“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”

“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.

“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.

“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone. 

about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.

you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.

but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it. 

with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not. 

after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead. 

the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.

“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.

“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”

“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.

“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”

“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”

“you too. tell them i say hi.”

the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.

you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you. 

you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.

“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.

“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.

“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”

“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.

“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”

“thanks top.” 

you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top. 

walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.

it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on. 

“hey.”

“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”

“yeah.”

“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”

“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.

“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”

“yeah, i did.”

“i just hope they’re sweet.”

“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”

“it’s a great day. good weather.” 

“you already said that.”

“oh.”

“would you stop and look at me?”

“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.

“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.

“i’m fine.. are you okay?”

“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”

“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”

“you were on board-”

“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”

“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.

“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”

“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.

“why are you being so nice about it?”

“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”

“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”

“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”

“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”

“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”

“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.

“you’re starin’.”

“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”

“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”

turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.

from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.

“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.

“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”

you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear. 

he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.

“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.

“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?” “shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”

“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck. 

“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away

“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.

“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.

your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.

you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.

“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.

“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.

“fun. what time?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.

“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.

“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat. 

you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.

topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now). 

you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.

inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks. 

the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.

“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.

“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.

“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.

he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands. 

if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.

“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.

he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.

“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.

“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot. 

he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.

“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.

“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”

“but i made the last one!”

“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”

“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.

for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.

“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.

“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”

“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you. 

“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.

“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer. 

“alright, you’re cut off.”

the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him. 

you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”

“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.

“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.

“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.

“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch. 

you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.

this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are. 

rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.

“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”

“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.

“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”

“man, why am i always on top watch-”

in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.

“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.

kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now. 

“enough. why?”

“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.

“you saw me?”

“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.

“what, you jealous, kid?”

“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.

“no, m’not.” 

you bite your cheek and stare out the window. 

“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.

tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.

you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.

you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?

grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.

“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.

“the couch.”

“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”

“i’m starting something new.”

“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.

you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.

“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.

rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.

“what the hell was that?”

“this whole thing was a mistake.”

“it’s been two days.”

“well i’m an emotional fuck!”

“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.

“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?” 

“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”

“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”

“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”

“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?” 

in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.

or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.

the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you. 

you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.

and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.

“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”

“you should have just confessed.”

“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“it’s been two days,” you mock.

“yeah, well, we tried it.”

“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.

“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”

“so if we break up-”

“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”

“shut up.”

“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”

“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets. “learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”

“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”

“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”

#add to masterlist #rafe cameron x reader

[cevansswhore]

"Good Girls Are Bad Girls" - Fratboy!Rafe Cameron x Reader

a/n: thank you to @aemondsbabe for helping me with my questions on sorority and frat culture LMFAO 🩷

Summary: When Rafe meets one of Tri Delta's new sisters, he knows he's found the one.

Word Count: 5,000

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, slight age gap (18 and 22), rafe creeping, corruption kink, innocence kink, some stalking, semi public fingering, oral f receiving, spit kink, degradation, praise kink, overstim, loss of virginity, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tummy bulge, creampie, pussy slapping, honestly i might've forgotten something this was a lot, mentions of alcohol consumption/frat culture

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You want to curse your past self for forgetting to set an alarm this morning. You’re the type to sit at the back of the lecture hall, where no one pays attention to you. You like taking your notes, doing your work, and leaving without a fuss. That’s how you’ve managed to get through your first semester of college so far. But today? Today, everything’s changed.

Your usual seat - and in fact all the seats in the back row - are taken, leaving only one up front. You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest as you make your way down the stairs, taking the only empty seat that’s left. Luckily, you don’t have to climb over any of your classmates to get to it. That would’ve been even more humiliating. Instead, you just sit down, pull your notebook out of your backpack, and set up your things for the lecture.

For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. So, while you might have been cursing yourself for this little mishap, someone else was counting their lucky stars that you couldn’t take your usual seat at the back of the room. That someone else being none other than Rafe Cameron. The president of the Beta Theta Pi fraternity. Unofficial king of the campus.

Rafe can hardly believe his luck when he glances back at the sound of the door opening and sees you. You look so skittish, almost like a spooked fawn, as you make your way toward the empty seat beside him. Rafe leans over to ask Topper if he knows who you are. Topper’s gaze falls on you and he gives you an appreciative once-over before informing Rafe that he does not in fact know you. Rafe can’t stop staring at you, his gaze hooded as he watches you ready yourself for class, angling his body toward you. 

He scoots in close, murmuring, “New transfer?”

You shake your head, your voice soft and sweet as you reply, “Oh, um, no. I’m a freshman actually. I just usually sit in the back.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, leaning in even closer, his arm resting on the back of your chair, thigh pressed against yours, “You’re fresh meat then.”

“I, um, I guess,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue focusing on your notes, organizing them for class and avoiding eye contact with the boy beside you.

If Rafe notices this, he doesn’t care, instead whispering against your ear, “My name’s Rafe. And you are…?”

You tell him your name, barely audible, barely above a whisper, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. Rafe notices. He’s noticed every little thing about you in the short time you’ve been seated beside him. You don’t seem particularly comfortable around him. And a sick, twisted little part of him like that.

“What’s your major?”

“Dance,” you reply quietly, sliding down in your seat slightly in an effort to create some distance between the two of you.

“Oh, so you’re a dancer,” Rafe repeats, his voice laden with suggestive undertones as his eyes travel the expanse of your body. Though the professor enters the room and you do your best to ignore Rafe, he has no intention of paying attention to class. Only to you. His breath tickles your neck as he whispers, “What type of dance do you do?”

“Ballet,” you tell him, doing your best not to shiver at the way he’s pressed himself up against you.

“Ballet, huh? You know, you don’t look like a ballerina.”

Now he has your attention. He has you exactly where he wants you. Rafe inhales the scent of your body wash - vanilla and sugar, he thinks - as you look at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t?”

“Your body,” he pauses, gaze lingering on your cleavage for a moment too long as he admires you, “It’s too… Soft.”

You look so adorably confused as you tilt your head and repeat, “Soft?”

“Mhm,” Rafe’s lips brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Most ballerinas I’ve seen don’t have the softness you do. The curves.”

A wounded expression flashes across your face, “Are you making fun of me?”

He shakes his head, chuckling slightly, “No, sweetheart. I’m just saying I think your body is more suited for… Other things.”

Rafe decides to let you be for the rest of class, watching as your fingers dance across the page, holding your fuzzy pink pen. He watches as you tap it to your lips every so often when deep in thought, his breath growing more and more shallow with each passing moment. His thoughts are consumed entirely by you. Your delicate hands, those round tits, those doe eyes. He has to have you. It’s not a want at this point. It’s a need.

When class finally comes to an end, you seem eager to get away from him, shoving your things in your bag. He eyes your thighs, or what’s visible of them under the hem of the little plaid skirt you’re wearing, those knee socks squeezing your soft flesh. Rafe licks his lips, watching the way your pert little ass sways in the skirt, following after you as you leave the classroom. Before you can make it too far, he grabs you by the arm gently, a grin on his face.

“Where’re you going so fast?”

You startle at the sound of his voice, like a deer in headlights, “Oh, um, just to my next lecture.”

“You’re so quiet,” he teases, watching you fiddle with the straps of your backpack, twisting from side to side nervously, “The quiet ones are always secretly the craziest. Anyway, I’ll walk you.”

“Y-you don’t have to-”

“Oh, I insist,” Rafe falls into step beside you, getting a nice little glance down your v-neck sweater from his vantage point, the subtle bounce of your breasts making his cock go rock-hard in his jeans, “So, you must be pretty flexible, huh?”

“Oh, um, I guess so. For ballet, you kind of have to be.”

You’re so damn shy. He loves it. So fucking innocent. All he can think about is how he’s going to make you his, corrupt you entirely. Taint that sweet naivete of yours beyond all repair. It’s going to be so fucking delicious that it has his mouth watering at the thought alone.

“You’re in Beta, right?”

He’s surprised that you’ve managed to eke out a question, but grins and nods, giving you a little wink, “I am. I’m the president, as a matter of fact. How’d you know?”

“You know a few of my sisters,” you explain, “I’m in Tri Delta.”

Rafe’s brows nearly fly into his hairline at the revelation. A Tri Delta girl? How come he’s only just now meeting you? He thought he’d managed to fuck his way through that entire house, and yet here you are, looking up at him with those sweet innocent eyes, shying away the moment he so much as smiles at you.

“How come I’ve never seen you before today?”

“I don’t usually go to parties,” you explain, “I help set up and then hang out in my room.”

“That’s adorable,” Rafe coos almost mockingly, “A pretty little wallflower, huh? I bet you’re such a good girl. Straight A student, gets to class on time.”

“I,” you falter slightly, making his grin widen, “I do okay…”

You hug your textbook to your chest, the sight of which just confirms his suspicions as you shift your weight from foot to foot, “I bet you’re such a good girl too,” he murmurs, “Have you ever done anything naughty, Princess? I bet you haven’t.”

“Not really,” you admit, pausing in front of the lecture hall, “This is me. Thank you for walking me. It was nice meeting you.”

“You trying to get away from me?” Rafe teases, his blue eyes boring into you.

“No, I just have class…”

Rafe chuckles, nodding, “Yeah, I’m just kidding. See ya around, Princess.”

He watches you, the graceful sway of your hips, those legs, that ass of yours. He’s fucking hooked. He needs to know more about you.

Rafe needs to know everything about you.

He learns that you’re a legacy, your mom having been a Tri Delta sister. You come from old money, your family living back in California. You seem to have come out to the east coast to break away from the sheltered life you’ve led. Attended an all girls school - no wonder you’re so jumpy around him. It’s so fucking cute. Your mother is a doctor, he learns, and your father is a hotelier, owning one of the most famous, luxurious hotel chains in the world. You’re a Kook if he’s ever seen one. A perfect match for him.

Topper finds out that you practice from six to eight in the dance studio on campus every day, information he relays to Rafe without delay. And so tonight? Rafe watches as you enter the studio, removing your jacket and warm up pants, revealing the pale pink leotard and tights you have on underneath. The way the fabric clings to you - to every curve, every soft bit of flesh - it’s almost impossible for him to stand there and do nothing. You don’t notice him at first, continuing in your stretching at the barre. The way you move is so effortlessly graceful and so sensuous at the same time. Watching you twist your body into all these positions, the sight of your leotard squeezing and digging in all the right places. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life.

Rafe’s throat goes dry as he watches you, the song you’re dancing to being vaguely familiar to him. He thinks it might be from the Nutcracker. All he can think of as you dance around the room, your hair tumbling free from the bun you’d tied it in, is that you’re perfect. Everything he’s ever wanted. His first impression was right. You’re so soft, so pliant. He eyes each of your supple curves with ravenous desire, barely resisting the urge to barge into the studio and fuck you up against the wall.

He stays there, silently watching you practice, sweat dripping down your face as you work yourself to the point of exhaustion. You’re stumbling now, making a few mistakes, but all that does is endear you to him even more. The little pout on your face as you keep trying to get your fouette perfect. It’s so goddamn enticing.

Rafe claps when you’re finished, startling you slightly. You give him a shy wave as you undo your pointe shoes and pull on your warm ups over your clothes, feeling a bit self conscious around him. He notices your sudden shyness and takes advantage of it, walking inside and leaning on the barre beside you.

“Was just passing through the building and saw you,” he lies, “I could watch you dance all night long. How long you been doing it for?”

“Since I was a kid,” your voice is so meek and timid, it has him wanting to see what other little noises he can pull from those soft lips.

“Any chance I can see you perform?”

“If you want,” you pause, “I’m in the Nutcracker. As one of the snow fairies. Freshmen usually don’t get lead roles, just ensemble, but I’m in it a bit.”

“I’m sold,” Rafe grins, a hand resting on your lower back as the two of you leave the studio, “When is it?”

“The Friday before winter break.”

Two weeks from now. Rafe grins, excitement in his voice, something that has you biting back a smile. He can see how happy you are that someone wants to come specifically for you. And so, he gives your waist a little squeeze, making you gasp softly.

“I’ll be there. But the real question is,” he stops in his tracks, leading you to stop as well, “Can I see you before then? Or are you gonna make me wait two weeks?”

“I… But you’re a senior,” your voice is so uncertain it nearly tugs at his heartstrings, “And I’m just a freshman…”

Rafe smirks at you, “And that matters why? All I need to know is if I can see you before you perform, cuz,” he runs his thumb softly along your jawline, enjoying the way you fluster at his touch, “I can’t wait that long.”

You blink owlishly, surprised at this, but not at all unhappy, “You can… If you want.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” The two of you arrive at the Tri Delta house, and Rafe leans in close. You gaze up at him with those innocent eyes of yours, his heart nearly melting at the adorable sight, “Tomorrow night. Six PM. I’ll pick you up from here. How’s that sound, princess?” When you nod in agreement, Rafe all but purrs, “Good girl.”

He sees the way your breath catches in your throat. You like to be praised. You want to be his good girl. Rafe’s going to remember that.You shift your weight from foot to foot, thanking him for walking you. Rafe decides to get a little bolder and leans in.

“How about a kiss as a thank you?”

Rafe wants you flustered. He wants that look on your face you have right now, lips parted as you try to figure out whether or not he’s serious. He just stands there, waiting expectantly, and you realize he most certainly was. You’ve never done anything like this before, so you hesitate for a long moment before leaning forward and brushing your lips against his cheek before dashing off into the safety of the house, away from him, blurting out a quick “goodnight” as you go.

He stands there, pressing his hand to his cheek.

You little fucking tease.

He’s going to get so much more than a kiss on the cheek from you tomorrow. He’s going to have his lips on yours. And then? On so many other places.

Rafe decides to sit with you in the back row today. You’re surprised to see a backpack resting on your usual chair, Rafe in the one beside it. He gives you a lazy smile, one that has your stomach filling with butterflies, and moves his backpack, patting the seat beside him. You make your way on shaky legs, setting your things down and preparing for class. He looks good. You can’t deny it, even with that ridiculous snapback, sitting backwards on his head. Somehow, he makes it look attractive.

He likes what he sees as he takes in your outfit as well. That plaid skirt that sits snug around your hips, hitting your mid-thigh, the innocence of your lacy socks paired with Mary Jane shoes, and the sweater you’ve matched it all with. The perfect innocent school girl, ripe for the taking. It’s like every sordid little fantasy he had as a teenager has come true, and you’re at the center of all of them.

“What’s up cutie?” Rafe asks, his thigh pressed up against yours, “You sleep good?”

“Mhm,” you say quietly, giving him a small smile.

“That skirt looks really good on you.”

His gaze is hungry as he takes in the exposed flesh of your thighs, biting back a laugh as you stutter out, “Thank you. Y-you look nice too.”

“Aw, thanks, Princess. Are you excited for our date?” He continues talking, “I’m taking you to this great steak place. You’re gonna love it.”

“Sounds good.”

You try to pay attention to the lecture. You really do. You’ve always been a straight A student and intend on remaining one, especially with finals only two weeks away. But when Rafe rests his hand on your thigh, just where your skirt ends and squeezes your soft flesh, his large, calloused palm caressing your skin? You don’t really care about whatever the professor is rattling on about. This is far more interesting.

Rafe loves how soft you are to the touch, your smooth, warm skin. His cock strains against his pants as he moves his hand higher and higher, reveling in the breathy gasp you let out when his fingers skim over the fabric of your underwear. 

You cover your mouth, teeth sinking into your lower lip, “R-Rafe, we’re in class…”

It’s such an adorable fucking reaction. Watching Little Miss Innocent lose her composure, the way you seem to be against this and yet, you make no move to get away. He caresses your mound over the fabric of your panties, leaning in and whispering in your ear.

“We’re in the back row, baby. Just relax. Daddy’s got you.”

You cover your mouth as he presses his fingers against you, a grin spreading across his face at the fact that he’s already got you dripping for him. He moves your panties aside, pushing two fingers inside your wet cunt. You’ve never really felt the urge to touch yourself before, but now, with him fucking you with his fingers? You wonder if you’re ever going to be able to last a day without doing so. He pumps his fingers faster and faster, burying them knuckle deep inside you, turning your face so that you keep those big doe eyes on him. He watches the way your lashes flutter, your breath quickens, knowing you’re almost there. Virgins like you get wet so fucking easily, but there’s something even more enticing about you than any before.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Your eyes close, white hot pleasure ripping through your body, and you disguise the moan you let out as a cough, something that has Rafe snickering to himself. He brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean. And you just watch, lips parted, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. After the class empties out, he brings his fingers to your lips next, pushing them inside your mouth. Realizing what he wants, you close your lips around them, suckling slightly.

“That’s it, baby. hope you’re ready for tonight. Because this is just the beginning of what I have in store for you.”

Rafe waits for you outside Tri Delta at six, drumming his fingers against his steering wheel. He gets out and begins to walk to the door, ready to knock and deal with whichever sorority sister answers, but before his knuckles can wrap on the wood, the door opens to reveal you. Standing there with your hair down, wearing a little pink dress and white kitten heels, a white purse in your hands that looks too tiny to carry anything. Your lips are coated in a pretty pink lip gloss that he can’t wait to taste.

“Hi,” you say, smiling up at him in that adorably shy way you do, “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“No, baby,” he chuckles, moving to rest a hand on your hip, squeezing, “You’re right on time. And looking fucking incredible.”

He takes your hand, so soft and small and warm in his, leading you to his car. He can tell you’re a Kook from the way you don’t balk at the fact he’s driving a Porsche. You just let him open the door and help you in, thanking him. Rafe’s hand rests on your thigh once again as the two of you drive to the restaurant, the sight of which reminds you of what happened earlier in class. You press your thighs together, the low vibration of the car driving along the road making your stomach turn in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant as you squirm in your seat.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmurs, moving his hand to brush the back of it along your cheek, his touch sending a jolt through you, “My good little girl. I almost don’t wanna ruin that pretty dress you’re wearing.”

“Ruin…?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, baby.”

Rafe is pleased at how well you fit in at the fancy steakhouse he takes you to. Topper was right. You do come from old money. He watches as you eat, as you talk to him, so very gracefully. Everything you do, every little thing, makes him want you more. He sits with his chin resting on his hand, gazing at you intently as you tell him about your family, your time at your all girls’ school. And for the first time, Rafe realizes that it’s nice to actually talk to the girl he’s into. To connect with her. He doesn’t talk about himself much that night, wanting to make you feel comfortable so that you’ll let him walk you back up to your room after dinner.

Because tonight, he’s going to make you his.

You do indeed let Rafe walk you to your room when he asks. You ignore the jealous looks some of the girls give you and the knowing looks from the others. Rafe knows what they’re thinking. That you’re just another in his long line of conquests. They don’t know that you’re so much more to him than that.

He closes the door behind the two of you when you enter your room, glancing around, smiling to himself at how it’s so very you, from the pink fuzzy blanket to the little unicorn plushie sitting in the center of your bed.

Rafe moves to sit on your bed, pulling you into his lap. You stumble forward, your hands resting against his chest to steady yourself. You look at him, so hesitant, so uncertain, and Rafe knows that you want him to kiss you, but you don’t quite know how to ask. So, he leans in slowly and presses a kiss to your lips, making you gasp, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue, letting it move against yours, slow and yet so very heated. He pulls you closer to him by the waist, running a hand up under the back of your dress, moving his hand upward to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass slightly, making you let out a quiet whimper.

“You make such cute little noises. Wanna hear some more. And you taste so sweet,” he mumbles between kisses, “Fuck, baby, you’re adorable.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him through your eyelashes, “You mean you like me? Like you like me like me?”

“Baby, of course I like you, how could I not?” Rafe coos, peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, “Thought I made it obvious. I want you. No one else in the entire fuckin’ world would do, baby. Only you. Want you so fuckin’ bad it hurts.”

You mewl with pleasure as he bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulders, “Oh my God, Rafe, please-“

“Please what?” He smirks, moving his hand to stroke you over your panties, “Huh?”

As Rafe slides his hand under the hem of your dress, caressing you over your panties, you can’t help but whine his name again. The sound is so sweet, so intoxicating, that it has him moaning and pulling you back into another sloppy, wet, heated kiss, his mouth devouring your own. His other hand twists in your hair, making you moan at the slight pain, but also? From how fucking good it feels.

“God, baby, I think I’m just gonna have to keep you forever. You good with that? Huh, baby?”

All you can do is nod dumbly as he continues kissing up the side of your neck, “Something wrong, baby?”

“N-no,” you stutter as he moves to flip you over so you’re beneath him on the bed.

He tugs at your dress, pulling it over your head, his mouth going dry at the sight of your tits straining against your pink lacy bra and panties. He kisses the soft skin above the fabric of your bra, his mouth hot against you, moving down further and further until he reaches the apex between your thighs.

“Rafe? What’re you doing?”

“I just want to make you feel good,” Rafe promises, mouthing at you over your panties, loving the way you shiver at his touch, “Yeah, baby.”

You nod timidly, “O-okay. I trust you, Rafe.”

“Lay back, sweetheart,” he mumbles, stroking you over your panties and pressing down a bit harder against your clit, grinning at the way you moan, “Daddy’s gonna take good care of his baby girl.”

“One of the girls could hear us-“

“So?” he questions, sliding your panties down your legs and stuffing them into his back pocket, “Let them, Let them hear you scream my name while I eat your sweet little pussy for hours.”

“Rafe,” you whimper as he gave a quick lick against your wet cunt, “Oh my God, it feels so weird-“

“Good weird?” he questions, running a finger over you.

“Yes, oh my God, it’s, like, I… Please do something!”

“Use your words, baby girl,” he teases, lining his face up with your core, “Say ‘please eat my wet little virgin pussy, Daddy’.” You let out a cry as he nips at your thigh, “Sometime today, baby.”

“Please eat my wet little virgin pussy, Daddy,” you all but scream, “Please, please, please!”

Rafe looks up at you with a grin to rival the devil himself, “Since you asked so nicely.”

He spits on you, the cool feeling of his saliva hitting your core making you shiver, before diving in wholeheartedly with his tongue. He laps at your slick folds eagerly, like he’s a starving man and you’re a drop of water in the desert. You thrash against the bed, mumbling incoherently. The only words he can make out are “good”, “Rafe”, and “Daddy”. He grazes his teeth against your swollen pearl, making your entire body seize as you cry out.

“Oh my God, Rafe, yes! Oh God, you feel so good, oh my God!”

Rafe continues lapping at you, his tongue moving at a relentless pace, making you squeal as he nuzzles his nose against your clit.

He pulls back for a moment, “You’re so cute like this. So small and helpless. You’re gonna be a perfect little slut just for me, aren’t you, princess?” Rafe slaps your pussy when you don’t respond, making you jolt with surprise at how fucking good it feels, his palm hitting your clit, “Come on, my pretty little slut, answer when your daddy asks a question.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m your slut,” you whine, arching your back, “Oh my God, faster please!”

“Anything for my baby girl.”

He rubs you faster and faster while lapping at your pussy, leaving a sloppy open-mouthed kiss against it, the slurping noises he makes, the moans he lets out sounding so obscene. But you just lay there, staring at him, eyes locked on his as you come with a scream of his name. But he’s not even close to done. He continues mouthing at your folds sloppily, greedily, tongue fucking you like his life depends on it. Your entire body quivers at the feeling, twitching as you grasp at the sheets, desperate for purchase as he rips another climax from your body, then a third.

Your arousal glistens against Rafe’s chin and he moves up your body to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmurs, biting your lower lip, “Gonna have you for dessert everyday. You liked that, didn’t you? Me treating you like my own personal whore?”

You whimper as he squeezes your ass with one hand, moving the other up to your mouth to force it open, “Rafe?”

“Keep that mouth open, baby,” he mumbles, spitting onto your tongue, “Swallow that for me.” You quickly follow his instructions, earning a pleased smile from him. “Show me your tongue. Wanna see that you swallowed,” he orders, to which you oblige without hesitation, showing him your tongue, “Fuck, baby, you’re such a good girl.”

Rafe unbuttons the dress shirt he wore to dinner, revealing his toned chest, his abs, tossing it aside, moving to his pants next, making quick work of them and his boxers, his cock rock hard, swaying slightly, pre cum dripping from the tip. He gives himself a few quick tugs before slapping the head of his cock against your clit, loving the way your entire body twitches. He pushes inside you, just the tip at first, slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out inside of you.

You always thought your first time would hurt, but with how wet Rafe made you after eating you out for so long, it’s just a slight sting and then, it’s gone, giving way to the strangest, most pleasurable sensation you’ve ever known. He fills you up with every thrust of his hips, lifting your legs to hike them around his waist, allowing him to fuck you harder, deeper. You can feel every bit of him as he ruts into you, slow at first, but then faster and faster. Rafe is mesmerized by the sight of your face, your tits bouncing as he moves to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He grabs your hips, pounding into you over and over and over again, hitting that rough patch deep inside you, loving the mewl of his name you let out as you soak his cock.

But he’s not done with you. He continues fucking you, even as your pussy grips him so hard that he can hardly move, even as you squirm against him, your overstimulated body barely able to handle what he’s giving you.

When he finally spills himself deep inside of your pussy, he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms, his lips pressing against your neck. You cuddle up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

And it’s while you’re snoring softly that he remembers something Topper said a few weeks back.

Something that he now knows to be very true.

“Good girls are bad girls who haven’t been caught.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #add to masterlist #semi daddy!kink

[cevansswhore]

Rafe + belly bulge size kink🤷‍♀️ maybe he pushes on her lower belly🫢

Idk haven't seen that with rafe

this has me 🫠🫠🫠

you'd suggested the new position to rafe after a friend spent the better half of an hour raving about how it had her seeing entire constellations in the span of a few minutes– and the blonde was more than willing to oblige.

it wasn't anything crazy, really; your lower back was hoisted off the bed by a stack of pillows, allowing rafe to reach depths you never knew existed.

his thrust were slow, measured, drawing breathy ah's from your mouth with each rocking motion. his plump lips were moving, asking you something, however your brain had turned to mush– his question struggling to bypass the dandelion fluff coating your ears. all you could focus on was the rhythmic squeak of your bed frame, the trail of heat left by his burning kisses, his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist...

and then everything stilled. there was a strange pressure on your lower abdomen, not unpleasant but foreign. the sensation sending prickles down your spine, your warm walls involuntarily clenching as your eyes shot open to be met with his darkening blue orbs.

"that got your attention, huh?"

"rafe...wha–" you could only let out a choked moan as he did it again, hissing through his teeth as you tightened around him.

"look," his ring clad fingers curled around your chin, forcing your gaze down. there– even with your cloudy mind –you saw it. below your bellybutton was a small lump protruding from the skin of your tummy. your eyes widened as he rolled forward as if to demonstrate, his cock visibly shifting within you. "you sure you can handle this dick, babe? looks like 'm 'bouta split you open."

he began to flick his hips forward again, lewdly tracing the outline over your stomach, entranced by the sight of your body's morphing into one. "ra–mmph!"

"fucked you so good you can't even think, that's cute, real cute," he pressed down again, and this time stars exploded behind your eyes, toes curling as mouth fell open in a state of shock– you never came that fast.

“fuck me." he groaned, continuing to shallowly fuck you through it as laboured breaths slowly returned to normal.

"gotta thank that friend of yours," you nodded your dazed head in agreement. "now lem'me get my fill."

sincerely ~ 🦓༝༚༝༚

[cevansswhore]

THE DEAL

╰┈➤ ❝ the masterlist ❞

summary: Rafe Cameron’s always been a trust fund kid, living off his daddy’s money and abusing of his privilege, but when his father cuts him off, will he be able to build a normal life for himself as a college student? What if that one friend he knows from his economics class is willing to make an interesting deal with him to help him?

warnings: there will be specific warnings for each chapter. this series is 18+ as it contains mature themes. cheating is the major warning (basically the whole plot) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: frat!rafe x innocent friend!reader

nav the spotify playlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3 (if you want to be added only to the taglist of this series you can specify it in the end note of the form!)

- sneak peak

╰┈➤ ❝ chapter one ❞

❝ chapter two ❞

❝ chapter three ❞

❝ chapter four ❞

❝ chapter five ❞

❝ chapter six ❞

❝ chapter seven ❞

❝ the epilogue ❞

—instagram AU:

lovesick edition!

idiots in love edition!

christmas edition!

blurbs

the one with the tiktok prank

the one where you almost break up

#add to masterlist

[cevansswhore]

scary my god you're divine

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

#bucky barnes x reader #semi daddy!kink #add to masterlist

[cevansswhore]

Flustered: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

Warnings: profanity, masturbation, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, teasing, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: I've had major writers block + lack of motivation lately. I started this WEEKS ago and didn't have a single good idea for it again until today, so here you all go. I meant for it to be a one-shot but it sort of turned into a two-part fic on its own. Special thanks to @aryarcharon for this wonderful combination request from the smut menu!

            It’s not very easy to get under your skin. You’re so level-headed and even-tempered, capable of dealing with the most heinous criminals and lowlifes without ever breaking a sweat. However, there is one person who not only knows how to get under your skin, but takes pride in doing exactly that. That one person is none other than Bucky Barnes.

            As a heavy rain pours down, soaking your clothes and sending a chill throughout your body, you stand with your arms crossed over your chest and a simmering rage bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. It’s his fault you’re stuck out here like this, freezing your ass off and probably nearing hypothermia as you wait for an extraction team. The mission went fine. You got the intel you needed, you got in and out without a hitch, and you even made it all the way back to the getaway car. The getaway car that Bucky left idling for too long, which drained the battery and now leaves the two of you standing in the rain.

            Your eyes flit over to your left, where Bucky’s carefully analyzing the machinery beneath the hood of the car, like he’s going to be able to magically fix a drained battery. Just the sight of him feeds the fire of anger within you.

            “Give it up, we don’t have any way to jump it off.” You grumble, running your hands through your wet hair. Bucky lifts his gaze to glare at you. His eyes briefly travel down to your wet clothes, but he focuses back on the machinery within a second. It was already cold out before it started raining, why the hell would you have dressed in such a thin shirt? And then to only pull on an equally thin jacket over the top of it, Bucky’s decided that you’re not the brightest.  

            “If you had listened to me and gone in when security was in the back half of the building instead of waiting until shift change, we wouldn’t have had to leave the car idling for that long.” Bucky points out, letting the hood down and closing it with a metallic thud.

            “If you had turned the ignition off, time wouldn’t have been a factor.” You retort. You know there isn’t any use in arguing, it’s not going to change your current shitty situation. However, you never seem to be able to stop yourself when it comes to Bucky.

            “I was trying to keep the car warm so you wouldn’t be freezing your ass off on the drive back to the compound.” Bucky huffs, moving around the side of the car to join you in standing on the passenger side. The laugh that leaves your lips is genuine, and if you weren’t laughing at Bucky’s words, it might’ve been infectious enough to make him laugh right along with you.

            “Don’t lie and pretend like you were keeping it warm for me, you were doing that for yourself. You’re never that nice to me.” It’s true, he’s never that nice to you. Any other woman? Sure, he’s a gentleman to anyone else. But to you, he’s an ass, constantly. It’s part of his fuckboy charm. He puts on the perfect show for women he wants to sleep with, and then gets them into bed and never calls them again, forever seemingly afraid of commitment. It’s how you figured out that you’re the one girl he’s never thought about sleeping with. He’s never been nice to you.

            Before Bucky has a chance to continue your pointless argument, his phone rings in the pocket of his leather jacket. He’s quick to pull it out, note that it’s Torres calling, and then press the device up to his ear as he narrows his eyes at you. You roll your eyes the moment you make eye contact with him.

            “I’ve got a car coming your way, ETA is about two minutes. But, it looks like the people you stole the info from may have caught on to the ruse, so you need to move.” Torres informs him quickly. He can hear him tapping away on a keyboard as he speaks.

            “Which direction is the car coming from?” Bucky asks, already scanning the street for signs of danger.

            “Head north of where you are right now, when you get to the construction site at the end of the road, take a left and find a place to tuck in until the car gets there.”

            It’s less than a minute later that you and Bucky are jogging through the rain in silence. You follow a couple of steps behind him, routinely glancing over your shoulder to check for the people that are supposedly on your tail. Though you haven’t seen or heard anyone yet, it doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched. After a short twenty seconds of you jogging behind Bucky, his protective nature gets the best of him and he slows down, switching places with you. He’s not letting you hang around the back and be the first one to get shot at when those guys catch up.

            “I can take care of myself, you know.” You mumble as Bucky lets you take the lead.

            “You have to, since you sure as hell don’t like to let anyone else do it.”  He spits back lowly. For someone who can’t stand being around you, he sure knows a good bit about you.

---

            Bucky stands in the shower, running his hands through his hair as he lets the hot water trickle over the curves of his muscles. He let you get under his skin today. He let you distract him from the mission at hand and he forgot to turn off the damn ignition, which resulted in the two of you getting stranded in the rain. Truthfully, you barely even did anything. It was the same shit that always distracts him when he’s in the field with you. The way you can be so serious and focused on your task, yet still throw casual insults and banter with him on the side. The way you’ve never acted like you were scared of him or like you even care who he once was. The way you roll your eyes. Every time he sees you roll your eyes at him, which is often, he can’t help but think about making you roll them for a very different reason. God, if he could just get you out of his life, he’d be fine. He’d be more the fine, honestly. He’d be fucking great.

            But, you’re a part of his life whether he likes it or not. You both live in the tower, you get sent on the same missions more often than not, and you’re as close with Sam as he is. So, over the last couple of months, Bucky came up with one foolproof way of gaining a little control back in this situation. He goes out of his way to make you want to insult him, to make you want to give him shit, so he can convince himself that you’d never give him a chance. Of course, it helps that he’s a bit of a modern-day fuckboy and you can’t stand that. Your take on his sex life is a bit off, but he doesn’t care to correct you on it, hoping it’ll make you hate him even more. You think that he sleeps around and because you think he fears commitment, you assume he leads women on and gets them into bed with the promise of something more. He does sleep around, but with no promise of commitment or anything resembling that. He lets women know up front that he isn’t looking for anything, that he’s happy to have one fun night and give them pleasure beyond belief, but that it’ll never go anywhere after that. Besides, who would pass up the chance to sleep with a super soldier? He’s practically fulfilling women’s fantasies left and right. He’s doing his civic duty by sleeping around. Isn’t he?

            Bucky had been planning to grab something out of the fridge for dinner after his shower, and then lock himself in his room for the rest of the night. Until he stepped out of his room, freshly showered, and the heavenly smell of whatever you chose to cook for everyone that night graced his senses. He couldn’t help himself from venturing in not only to see what you were making, but also to try to get under your skin as much as you got under his earlier today.

            “Don’t tell me you’re cooking pasta again.” Bucky’s voice rings out just as you’re leaving your sauce to simmer and thicken up on the stovetop. Your back is to him, but you know he’s approaching the kitchen with a sure plan to piss you off. As you wash a wooden spoon in the sink, your entire body tenses up when you feel him behind you.

            “You know I like to be alone in here when I’m cooking.” You remind him coldly, shutting off the water and drying the spoon on a hand towel. Bucky chuckles lowly before backing away from you and moving over to the stovetop, glancing down at the pasta sauce that you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes whipping up.

        ��   “And you know that’s why I’m in here.” Bucky points out. God, he’s infuriating. He’s made it his main purpose in life to piss you off, you’re sure of it. When you finally turn to face him, you catch him eyeing the sauce with piqued interest.

            “Get away from the stove.” You say boldly, pointing your wooden spoon at him like it’s a weapon. Bucky’s eyes dart over to you with mild amusement as he assesses the situation. You need to turn the burner off, but Bucky’s seen you cook this exact recipe enough times to know that, so instead of moving like you told him to, he reaches over and turns the burner off for you. It’s his next move that really pisses you off. A smug smile tugs on the corners of his lips as his hand ghosts over the stovetop to the edge of the saucepan, and then glides across the rim of it, gathering a small sample of sauce. “Don’t you dare.” You threaten him. “It was your fault that I ended up soaked on that mission today, you’re not eating anything I’m cooking tonight.”

            “Soaked, hmm?” Bucky repeats the word, giving it a much filthier connotation as he raises a brow at you. You shake your head, stepping forward as he lifts his hand closer to his mouth, his gaze focused on the sauce on the tip of his flesh index finger.

            “You know what I mean.” You huff, reaching for Bucky’s arm to stop his movement.

            “It was my fault that you ended up soaked.” Bucky says the sentence slowly as he thinks about you being soaked in an entirely different context. You poke his chest with your wooden spoon before grabbing his flesh wrist and pulling his hand toward you, effectively stopping him from tasting the sauce.

            “Why do you have to make everything sound so filthy?” You question, looking around for your hand towel so you can wipe the sauce off of his finger. It’s too far for you to reach without dropping his hand, and you’re sure as hell not letting him go now.

            “I like seeing you flustered like this.” He teases. Secretly, he’s enthralled that you’re touching him right now, that you’re standing so fucking close to him. He came in here hoping to piss you off just enough to make you yell at him, to make you chase him out of the kitchen, to remind him that you don’t give a shit about him so he could go to bed tonight without thinking about you. Yet, here he is, enjoying every second in your presence.

            Flustered. It only takes two seconds for you to decide that you’ve had enough of being flustered at Bucky’s words and actions. You’re always the one that’s flustered and he’s always the one that’s smug and cocky over getting a rise out of you. The action your body chooses to carry out doesn’t seem to go through the proper channels in your brain first, so you carry it out without pausing long enough to realize that it would be a mistake.

            You pull Bucky’s hand closer to your face, look up into his eyes, and wrap your lips around his finger, sucking the sauce off as your tongue glides against his skin.

            Fuck. You don’t hear the very audible sound of Bucky swallowing. You don’t hear the way every single thought jumbles up into a ball of incoherent words in his mind before disappearing altogether. You most definitely don’t notice the way his cock is quickly hardening, even though he’s wearing gray sweats and his growing bulge is somewhat obvious.

            You did it, Bucky’s flustered. You’ve never actually seen him like this, with blush-tinged cheeks, blown pupils, and narrowed eyes. He’s looking down at you like he wants to rip his hand away from you and storm off, but he isn’t moving a muscle. Satisfied with your victory, you drop his hand and use the spoon to tap on his chest.

            “I like seeing you flustered like this, James.”

---

            With a hand wrapped around his cock and your name threatening to crawl past his lips, Bucky chases his release less than an hour after his interaction with you in the kitchen. The image of you sucking on his finger while you looked up at him through your lashes ruined him. It fucking ruined him. Bucky works his cock with no intention of prolonging his pleasure, he wants it over with. He wants to knock out this one, shameful orgasm and then figure out a way to get you back for doing this to him, for making him want you this damn bad. He wants to have you on your knees, swallowing his thick cock with tears on your face and lust in your eyes. He wants to have you naked in his bedsheets, crying out for mercy as he fucks you so thoroughly that you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins. He wants to have you so hooked on his cock that even a day without it leaves you restless and on edge. He wants to hear you fucking beg for him.

            Only a moment later, Bucky is cumming all over his lower stomach and abs, grunting as quietly as he possibly can as he imagines his entire load filling you. More than anything, Bucky hates that he doesn’t actually hate you.

---

            It’s been two days since Bucky started avoiding you, two days since you sucked his finger into your mouth and gave him something to fantasize about. For the first time since that moment in the kitchen, you’ve found yourself in the same space as Bucky.

            As Bucky finishes up his workout with various pieces of gym equipment, you’re in the sparring ring with your latest trainer. You go through trainers about as fast as Bucky goes through women. Bucky’s sure this new trainer won’t last through the week. He watches as the guy pulls his punches, leaving you with only the lightest of swings to dodge and block. He’s going too easy on you, playing it safe so he won’t hurt you, because he doesn’t think you can handle yourself if he comes at you full strength. Bucky saw the same thing last week when the guy was here for the first time. Honestly, he expected you to request a new trainer after that first session, but for some reason, here the guy is again, treating you like a little princess in the ring.

            You’re light on your feet as you duck beneath another one of your trainer’s wide swings and then rise back up, landing a gentle punch of your own to his gut and sending him stumbling one step back. He’s quick to hold his hands up in defeat, shaking his head at your perseverance. You’ve been going at it for over an hour now, and although you’ve both been going easy on each other, it’s still cardio.

            “I’m calling it for today. I’ll be back again on Monday and you can rough me up then.” The tall, broad-shouldered man promises with a smile. You let out a deep breath and nod your head as you start to unwrap the protective fabric from around your knuckles. Taking a few steps over to the far side of the ring, you steal a sideways glance at Bucky, who’s completely engaged in his own workout with a weight set.

            “Rough you up? I don’t think we’ve gotten anywhere close to rough.” You joke, though it’s true. The man has been treating you like it’s your first week sparring, like you’re something to be handled with care and caution. You drop the sweaty fabric strips onto the mats before tugging your hair out of its ponytail and lowering yourself to sit on your knees on the mats.

            “If you wanted it rough, you could’ve just said so.” Your new trainer is bold. Though he fights you like you’ll shatter with his first real punch, he takes risks with his flirting. That’s the only reason you haven’t requested a new trainer yet.

            “Good to know.” You say coyly, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes and an innocent smile playing on your lips.

            It was that innocent smile paired with the way you looked up that simultaneously twisted Bucky’s stomach into an aching knot, yet still managed to send all of the blood in his body straight to his cock. If it was him that you’d been looking up at, his stomach would’ve been fine. But no, you were looking at your fucking trainer, the man who clearly thinks you’re fragile and incapable of making it through a real sparring match. After a few more words are exchanged between the two of you, the guy leaves the gym, promising he’ll see you again after the weekend, unless you call for him sooner. Bucky briefly imagines himself hurling one of the heavy weights across the room to knock the guy out of the door a little faster, but that would cause more trouble than it’s worth.

            He was going to ignore you. Honestly, he was. He wasn’t going to let himself interact with you, for his own sanity. But his deeper desires are repeating like a mantra in the back of his mind. He wants to hear you fucking beg for him. He has to have that satisfaction. He’s thought about it enough over the last two days that he’s imagined it to the point of committing the fantasy to memory. He has to have it.

            “I was wondering why you haven’t put in a request for a new trainer yet, since that one seems to think you’re too weak for a real sparring match. I get it now though.” Bucky says lowly, setting his weights down and lifting the hem of his t-shirt, using it to wipe sweat off of his brow. You narrow your eyes at him as you remain seated on your knees, stretching your arms up above your head. You know him well enough to know that he’s not done talking. “You want to sleep with him.”

            “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” You laugh. You reach for your water bottle that sits a few inches closer to the corner of the ring, grabbing it and pulling it to your chest.

            “Good to know.” Bucky repeats your words. He has a habit of remembering exactly what you’ve said and using it against you in various ways. It’s one of the things you hate most about him.

            “What does it matter if I do want to sleep with him? You sleep with any girl that comes within ten feet of you, you can’t really judge me, can you?” You retort. Bucky watches with an amused smile on his face as you set your water bottle back down and grasp the hem of your own shirt. He thinks you’re going to lift it just as he lifted his own earlier, to wipe sweat off of your brow. In retrospect, he should’ve left the gym when you lifted your shirt over your head, removing it and dropping it on the mats beside you.

            “You think he’d be good in bed? He won’t even throw a real punch at you in the ring. He’d probably fuck you so softly you wouldn’t even feel it.” Bucky scoffs, letting his eyes roam down your body as you’re taking another sip of water. You sit there in black leggings and a matching black sports bra, on your knees, making him question every decision he’s ever made with your appearance alone.

            “Maybe he thinks throwing real punches at a girl would dampen the mood.” You lie. You know Bucky’s right. The guy would be a bore in bed, but you can keep up the façade for a bit since it seems to bother Bucky so much.

            “Because he doesn’t know you very well.”

            “And you think you do?”

            “I think I know more about you than he does.” Bucky slowly approaches the sparring ring, keeping his eyes trained on yours the whole time. You don’t move from your spot on the mats.

            “List one thing.” You dare him.

            “A real sparring match with a man would do the opposite of dampening your mood.”  Bucky pulls himself up on the side of the ring, sliding through the ropes with ease and coming to stand a foot in front of you. He studies the way you look on your knees in front of him. He memorizes it.

            “You think sparring would be like foreplay for me?” You ask, already knowing that that’s exactly what he’s insinuating. You don’t know why you let him talk to you like this, why you let him cross every single professional boundary again and again. But here you are, on your knees in front of him as he stares down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

            “Do you want to prove me wrong?” Bucky holds his hand out to you, awaiting your decision.

--

            Your back slams against the mats for the third time, knocking the wind out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for air. It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath before you bend your knees and run your hands over your face. When you move your hands, you see Bucky standing above you and a little to your right, looking as smug as ever. He’s practically getting off on throwing you around like this, or at least that’s what you think he’s getting off on. He’s really getting off on hearing all of the heavy breaths, gasps, and soft whimpers that have been leaving your lips over the course of the last fifteen minutes.

            “Maybe I should’ve given you a safe word.” Bucky taunts, holding out a hand to help you up. You swat it away and take a deep breath before moving into a sitting position and then rising to your feet. You’re quick to assume a defensive position once again, though you’re learning that being on defense against Bucky is the wrong move.

            “I don’t think this is intense enough to require a safe word, unless you think you’ll need one.” You huff. The two of you begin moving in a slow circle around the ring, sizing each other up once again.

            “You sure about that? How much more can you take?” Bucky challenges you. You exhale slowly as you fight to calm your racing heart and come up with a plan of attack.

            “I can take whatever you have to give me.” You must’ve spent too much time around Bucky lately, because the innuendo that just left your lips is on par with the kinds of things he normally says. He falters at the implication of your words, letting his hands fall away from his defensive position for just a moment. You take your shot, rushing forward and shoving his chest with both hands as you lock your ankle around the back of one of his knees and knock him off balance. He goes tumbling backward, but before you can break away from him to maintain your own balance, he grabs your wrists and takes you down with him. You land on top of him on the mats with a soft thud. You begin scrambling to take control of the situation, attempting to free your wrists from his hold to pin his arms down on the mats. A low laugh erupts from Bucky’s chest as he witnesses your struggle. He actually finds it adorable that you think you have even the slightest chance at pinning down his vibranium arm. He lets you try for a moment, watching as you expend a little more of your energy, before he takes charge. Bucky easily breaks your grasp on his forearms and then grabs your right hand, tugging you down to his chest. He rolls you both over in one swift move, coming to rest half of his bodyweight on top of you.

            “Do you say shit like that to your trainer? Or just me?” He has to ask. You see the tiniest semblance of jealously peeking through his question and it brings a smug smile to your lips instead of his, for once.

            “Do you need me to tell you that you’re special?” You tease, trying to free your arms from where he has them pinned down on either side of your head. He watches with poorly veiled amusement as you struggle beneath him. In an effort to gather more strength, you pull your knees up and place your feet flat on the floor, which lets Bucky’s lower body slide between your legs. Your sudden move catches him off guard and he just barely pulls his hips back before his erection has the chance to brush against the crotch of your leggings. You let out a soft sigh as you try once more to break out of his grasp and Bucky can feel his cock growing impossibly harder at your sensual sound. The next sentence that leaves his mouth is one that could take things in one of two very different directions.

            “You look so fucking pretty when you’re struggling for me.” He says lowly. You freeze in an instant. When you meet his gaze, focusing in on his blue eyes, warmth suddenly begins to flood your body. You feel your breath hitch in your throat and a sheen of sweat form across your chest. Bucky notices every little physiological reaction he gets out of you. You liked what he said. You fucking liked it. A new boldness comes over him and he licks his bottom lip before biting into it and letting his eyes trail down to your chest. His gaze doesn’t linger there, but you can see the briefest appreciation in it as you lay there and let him look you over. Bucky wants to have you just like this, in his bed. But, if he can only have you like this on the gym mats, he isn’t going to waste the moment. Leaning down until his nose is almost brushing against yours, Bucky still keeps the majority of his weight off of you. He tilts his head to the side and lets his nose graze the shell of your ear. When you feel his lips against your earlobe, your eyes flutter shut and your breath hitches in your throat once again. “So. Fucking. Pretty.” Bucky repeats in a hushed whisper, emphasizing each word. You’re fighting to keep your legs in the exact position they’re in, they’re beginning to shake as you strain to keep them firm. Every single muscle fiber you have wants to take part in spreading your legs. Bucky can feel it. He can feel how badly you want to spread your legs for him, he can fucking feel it. He thinks he might want it even more than you do.

            “What was the safe word?” You ask in a breathless whisper. You can feel the movement of Bucky’s lips curling into a devilish smile against the shell of your ear.

            “I thought you said you could take whatever I have to give you.” He tsks. His warm breath fanning against your cheek is driving you absolutely insane, and it’s adding to all of the other sensations that are sending your body into overdrive. “You can take it, can’t you?” You’re trembling beneath him and he fucking loves it. You barely even think about his question before you find yourself nodding your head. In the back of your mind, you’re hating the way your body is fully complying with him, but for some reason it feels so good to do exactly what he wants.

            “I can take it.” You whisper softly. Bucky pulls back to look into your eyes as his teeth press into his bottom lip.

            “Good girl.” You reaction is instant and visceral. A whimper falls from your lips and your eyes close tightly as your legs spread all on their own, giving Bucky the freedom to press his clothed cock against you if he so wishes. But, he doesn’t. He’s completely mesmerized, entranced by your positive response to praise.

            That was the moment Bucky realized that you have a praise kink. When you finally gathered yourself and opened your eyes to look up at him, the way he stared back down at you like he wanted to ravage you right there on the mats of the sparring ring sent a jolt of electricity through you. Yeah, you wanted him to do every filthy thing that was running through his mind in that moment. But it was Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes, the man who sleeps with anyone and everyone, the man who is never nice to you. You couldn’t let him have what he wanted, so you came to your senses and finished the fight. You shoved him off of you when he least expected it, sending him to land flat on his back beside you, and then you scrambled to your feet, quick to put a bit of distance between the two of you.

            “Had enough already?” Bucky asked in a condescending tone, as he bent his knees and ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair, not making any moves to get off of the mats.

            “I said I could take it, I didn’t say I would. Find someone else to fuck around with.” You spit the words back at him with sheer malice.

            The following week was torture. Bucky, being the little shit that he is, decided to use your praise kink against you. Knowing your secret made getting under your skin that much easier for him. It started out small, with whispered praises in passing. He was leaving the gym one day when you were halfway through a heavy core workout, and as he passed by you, he couldn’t help himself.

            “Look at you, sweating and panting but still looking so fucking pretty.” He said lowly as he passed you, shooting you a smirk as the words left his lips. It set a fire deep in your stomach, which you swore was due to rage, but really, it wasn’t. The heat from that fire went straight to your cunt. You finished your workout in record time before hurrying upstairs to your room and telling yourself how much you hate him while you gave yourself the pleasure you so desperately needed.

            As Bucky teased you more and more, he began to become familiar with even the most subtle ways that your body would react to him. When he said just the right things, he could see your breath hitch in your throat, your posture straighten in the slightest, and your pupils dilate as you glared at him. Your eyes showed nothing but hatred but your body sang a different tune entirely, and he was feeding off of it.

            It’s now a few days later, and Bucky has grown even more confident in reading your body language. You’re in the kitchen late at night, washing a mug you used earlier in the evening. As you stand at the sink with your back to the rest of the living space and hallway to the bedrooms, Bucky slips out of his room quietly. Honestly, he didn’t know you’d still be up and out of your own room. He was planning to grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge and get back to his sleepless night, but there you are, in those little pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that almost makes the shorts pointless. When he joins you in the kitchen, you’re instantly aware of the heightened tension in the air around you both. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Bucky pulls the fridge open and retrieves a cold bottle of water. You listen as he unscrews the lid and takes a long sip, before screwing the lid back on and leaning against the island behind you. You continue washing the mug, spending way too much time rinsing the soapy bubbles off of the ceramic dish.

            “You’re not going to look at me?” Bucky asks. His voice is tense, filled with anticipation. You refuse to turn around an face him. You finish rinsing the mug and shut the faucet off, shaking the mug over the sink to get off the excess water. As you reach to your left for the hand towel that sits on the countertop, Bucky suddenly rushes forward, reaching his arms around either side of you and letting his hands rest on the countertop. You try to act unbothered as you dry the mug and keep your breathing as even as possible. He isn’t even touching you. His chest is only an inch or two away from your back but the proximity makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Come on, look at me.” Bucky coos. He leans down and lets his nose brush against your ear so lightly that it tickles and you pull your head to the side, away from him. As your heart rate increases and the warmth between your legs begins to grow, you start to think. He has the advantage. He’s had the advantage for a week now and you’re sick of it. You want an advantage of your own. As Bucky waits for a response from you, your mind races back to the night you sucked on his finger in this very kitchen. You got to him that night and he stayed away from you for days after that. You want that advantage over him again, you need it. So, you let that need guide your actions. As you inhale a deep breath, you turn your head and let your cheek brush against Bucky’s, catching him by surprise. He pulls away an inch and turns to look into your eyes. His surprise quickly fades into a look of pride as he sees you doing exactly what he wanted, looking right at him. “Good girl.”

            “Bucky…” You feign a whimper, setting the mug and towel down on the countertop before mirroring his position. You place each of your hands right beside his on the edge of the countertop and lightly press your ass back against him. You’re not even a little bit shocked when his erection makes contact with your ass, you knew he’d been getting his own twisted enjoyment out of this little game. As you grind gently against him, he draws in a sharp breath and you face forward once again, glancing down at your hands on the countertop. “Look at how much bigger your hands are.” You say incredulously, noting the size difference as he peers over your shoulder. “I’m so glad we never tried to fuck, I don’t think I would’ve been able to take you.” You whisper.

            Bucky stiffens behind you and you’re sure that you actually feel his cock throb against your ass before he pulls his hips away. In a flash, his hands are gone from the countertop and he’s retreating, leaving you by the kitchen sink.

That was the moment you realized Bucky has a size kink, the moment you leveled the playing field.

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[cevansswhore]

She calls me daddy

A/N: I COMPLETELY forgot about this masterpiece of an idea from @staysluttymyfriends97​, and it would be an absolute crime to not post it. I don’t make the rules. Anyway, Frat-boy!Steve Rogers makes me feel all the good, and I enjoy a cocky Steve, soooooo….

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit with whatever and whoever you want in there!

I love y’all, and hopefully, you’ll like this. Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine) and my askbox and requests are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

CHRIS EVANS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Frat-Boy!Steve Rogers x female reader, Nerd!Bucky (mentioned)

Contains: Language, Steve Rogers being a cocky dick, mentions of purity rings, smut (MDNI), fingering, oral (m recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, cum-shot, praise-kink, slight daddy-kink, slight dumbification, slight degradation-kink

W.C.: 4.638

She calls me daddy

“Seriously, do you need me there, or are you just acting like you do? You know I have finals next week, and I’ve been prepp…” Bucky glared at you, and you closed your mouth with a snap. “Listen to me. You’ve been prepping for one exam for a full month, now. You’re stressed as hell, you’re jumpy like a cat, who’s been strapped to fireworks, and I miss you.” He pouted and you groaned. “Stop that! You know I can’t handle your puppy-face.” “Please, Y/N, please? I promise, it’s going to be fun as hell, you enjoyed yourself the last time you were there!”

Bucky wasn’t wrong. You had enjoyed yourself, maybe even a little too much. Actually, you had enjoyed yourself way too much the last time you went to his frat house. And you did not want to face the consequences of your own actions.

Keep reading

#frat!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #add to masterlist

[cevansswhore]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, dd/lg vibes, choking, spanking, anal play, fingering, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You never thought you'd be stuck between two beefy basketball players who have it out for each other - but which one do you choose?

𝐀/𝐍: This is part 3 of my fic, Wicked Games. I'm literally so nervous about posting this. This is 21k words long. I hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes!

“I told you, Wanda. I barely remember anything from last night,” you say, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you manoeuvre the vacuum cleaner around your room. You’d woken up feeling like shit – hungover and with a terrible headache to boot. But a warm shower and some skincare later, you’d decided to do some chores in order to clear your mind. “I do remember you ditching me though.”

“I didn’t ditch you!” Wanda screeches from the other end of the line, and you wrinkle your nose, holding the phone away from your ear before she speaks again. “Curtis told me you’d left, and then he took me back to his place! I left you a message and everything, but maybe it didn’t send because the service was so shitty.”

You hadn’t received her message until you got home last night, along with about a dozen more from Ari which you also still hadn’t looked at, let alone responded to.

“Wait, you went home with Curtis?”

Wanda giggles, “Yeah. I didn’t think someone as popular as him would ever be interested in me but he was! And he was so good, and gentle too, and–”

You stay quiet, letting her gush on and on about her magical night with the basketball player, ooh-ing and aah-ing and gasping at all the right places. The truth was, the moment she’d mentioned Curtis’ name, the memory of him cornering you on the dancefloor and giving you drink after drink had all come back to you. How he’d offered to take you upstairs before Ari had interrupted… Oh, but what did that matter? It’s not like you didn’t already have your hands full with a basketball player of your own…

“So, what about you?” Wanda finally asks, “Do you really not remember anything?”

You inhale deeply, “I remember talking to Ari.”

No. You remembered more than that. You remembered the thumping music, the flashing lights, the crowd surging around you. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck. His words in your ear. How he’d fucked you right there in front of everyone… All of that had come back to you in the shower this morning, but you’d been trying not to think about it ever since. All you could really do was persuade yourself that it was too dark and crowded for anyone to have seen that.

“Ew. Not that two-timer. Please tell me you didn’t fold.”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you bite your lip, “We hooked up.” You weren’t going to delve into the details of where you’d hooked up with him, though.

“OH MY GOD, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!” Wanda screeches again, and you press your lips together. It was a valid question, but you just weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You ditched me and went home with Curtis. Please spare me the lecture, Wanda.”

She’s silent for a handful of seconds, “Okay fine. But how did you get home? Did Ari give you a lift?”

You frown, “He must have. I don’t really remember–”

At that moment, your eyes land on a blue and white varsity jacket draped over your desk chair, and your heart jolts all the way up to the roof of your mouth. Wanda’s voice prattles on, but the phone falls slightly from your hand.

Steve. You’d met a guy called Steve last night. It was slowly coming back to you now. How Ari had broken your heart in that bathroom, how you’d felt so alone and heartbroken the rest of the night. Blurred bits and pieces slowly join together like a jigsaw puzzle in your mind… Steve had found you, and you’d talked to him. And then…? Ari and Steve had faced off, and you’d chosen to leave with Steve…

You couldn’t remember anything after that. But surely Steve had called a cab and dropped you home, right? You had no recollection of what happened in the cab, however. You just have a vague memory of feeling cold and Steve giving you his jacket while you were both in the backseat. But that was the gentlemanly thing to do, as was dropping you home after the terrible night you’d had thanks to Ari.

“Hello? You still there??”

You blink, pressing the phone back against your ear, “Uh, yeah, I’m here. I don’t know what happened after that, but I got home safely so I guess that’s a win, right?”

Wanda agrees, before launching into a detailed account of how Curtis had let her sleep over and he’d even gotten her coffee in the morning after allowing her to sleep in. You sit there, half listening and half staring at Steve’s varsity jacket on your chair. Inexplicably, your fingers itch to touch the soft material, to hold it against your nose and see if you can detect a scent to try and remember more of what had happened last night. You have a vague memory of how heavy and secure it felt around your shoulders, but you can’t recall anything else no matter how hard you try.

A distinct rattling against your doorknob distracts you momentarily, and before you know what’s happening, your door flies open, and Ari appears. The spare key you’d given him clenched tightly in his fist, and a scowl on his handsome face.

“Why the fuck have you been ignoring my messages?” He snarls.

Seeing him now, seeing his devastatingly handsome face, his hair which is slightly wet at the ends, as if he just showered. His grey tank that clung to his body and showed off those incredible, tanned biceps. Oh God, seeing him now just makes you feel all weird, hurt and angry and helpless and yet so attracted to him all in one. And you wonder if all these conflicting emotions show on your own face as you stare him down.

You sniff in what you hope is a dismissive way, “I’m on the phone with Wanda right now.”

It takes him two seconds to cross the room, snatching the phone from your hands before speaking into it gruffly: “Fuck off, Carla.” He hangs up while you gape at him in shock and annoyance, before throwing your phone to the other end of your bed. “Answer me. I won’t repeat myself.”

He’d been messaging you nonstop all night and even this morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Not after how much he’d hurt you last night in the bathroom.

“Why would I reply to your messages when I have nothing left to say to you?” You say, priding yourself on keeping your voice level and calm.

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair like he usually does when he feels insulted or frustrated, “Watch your tone. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s been worried sick about you since you let that asshole abduct you last night.”

Your jaw drops open, “Worried sick? Are you for real, Ari? You weren’t worried sick when you left me in that bathroom even after I begged you to stay with me.”

Ari blinks, crossing his arms over his chest, “You remember that?”

You side-step your vacuum and square up to him (as well as you could possible square up to someone who is almost double your height). “I remember how heartbroken I felt, how hopeless and drunk I was. And you… you didn’t even care! Not even a little bit…” Your voice breaks, and you hate it and you wish you were stronger but you feel your shoulders crumple and your eyes well with tears.

“Aww, baby…” Ari’s strong arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his solid chest. And he smells so good, like fresh soap and aftershave, and his embrace is so familiar, so safe, and you hate him for that. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate it when you cry. Look, I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to. Sharon was making a scene and multiple people were looking for me.”

At the mention of her name, you push him away immediately and take a few steps backwards to create some distance between the two of you. No, you wouldn’t let him sweet-talk you this time, you wouldn’t fall victim to his manipulations. You were going to stand your ground.

“Don’t, okay? You don’t need to make all these excuses because you basically laid it all out on the table last night, Ari. I remember everything.”

“Baby, listen–”

“No, you listen! You strung me along for weeks, telling me you’d make me your girlfriend one day. I told you I’d do anything for you. I let you fuck me wherever, however you wanted! I begged you to stay, but you told me you already had a girlfriend, and now I know that if it came down to it, you’d always pick her over me. So, I’m done.”

You swallow back your tears and stand with your head held high, heart pounding at everything you’ve just said. But you also feel exhilarated, liberated because you’ve never voiced your thoughts to him like this before. And he just stands there, eyes narrowed as he stares you down and yet he says nothing, and you wonder if you’ve finally rendered someone like him speechless.

With triumph, you turn on your heel, walking past him and into your bathroom. You have nothing to do in there but you busy yourself with rearranging your lotions and creams, determined to ignore him until he leaves.

“I could take you out tonight,” he calls from the bedroom, “Like a real date. We could go to one of those Italian restaurants downtown. And we could stay at a hotel after that, I can easily get us a penthouse suite at the Hilton, I know you’d like that.”

You would like that. In fact, your heart lurches in excitement. A romantic, public date with Ari? Oh, that would be incredible! But your happiness is short-lived when you realise that none of it meant anything if he was still with Sharon. That meant this date would probably take place in the shadows of the night, with him on edge over someone spotting the two of you together. And you refused to be his second-choice, his dirty little secret, any longer.

“I’m not interested, Ari,” you mutter, pretending to read the label of your shampoo bottle. A minute passes before you look up, disappointed when he doesn’t answer. Had he left? Oh, you were hoping he would’ve stayed longer and grovelled a bit more. Or even grovelled at all because he still hadn’t apologised. You resist the urge to call his name as you stare hard at your shampoo bottle, so hard that the label blurs. Still nothing. You sigh before leaving the bathroom, heart sinking that he left.

But Ari’s still there, standing in the middle of your room. Deathly still, and in his hands is Steve’s blue and white varsity jacket. Shit. You’d completely forgotten it was there.

“This is his.” Ari says softly.

You don’t say anything.

His blue eyes meet yours, narrowed and accusatory, his jaw tense with contained anger. He holds the jacket up as if it’s a piece of damning evidence in a murder case, and you’re the convict on trial. You see a glimmer of betrayal on his face, and his lips press into a thin line.

“Why is this here?”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. It’s like his demeanour has completely changed in the past thirty seconds. You’d never seen him so calmly angry before. It’s almost eery.

“I asked you a question.”

You chew on your lower lip, “I-I was feeling cold, so he–”

Again, he closes the gap between you with just two long strides. But this time, he pushes you against the wall, his hand going around your throat and giving you the strangest sense of dejavu.

“Was he in here? Did you let him fuck you?”

He shakes you when you don’t answer, and his fingers squeeze your throat threateningly.

“No, okay!” You say, feeling your windpipes close. Of course, you and Steve hadn’t slept together – all he’d done was give you a ride home, right??

“Did you let him touch you? Did you!?” He shakes you again, “Did you hook up with him? Tell me the fucking truth.”

“NO! Get the fuck off me!” You cry, pushing at him feebly.

“Do you remember everything? Tell me right fucking now, because if you don’t remember then that means that asshole took advantage of you while you were drunk.”

“I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, OKAY?!” You lie, “Nothing happened. H-He gave me his jacket because I felt cold, then he dropped me home. Nothing else happened, just let me go!”

Ari does let your throat go, but his menacing eyes never leave yours. You’ve never seen him so… affected before. He was always so cool, collected, so nonchalant… but right now, he almost looks frenzied. The sneer never leaves his face as his hand slips up to grab your jaw instead.

“Are you sure?” His every word is enunciated slowly, in a frighteningly level manner as he stares you down. “You better be fucking sure, because I know guys like him. He’s a fucking slimeball who would’ve been happy to touch you even if you were unconscious.”

Your heart sinks at that, but you know Ari’s just speaking out of anger. Steve had been so sweet, and he’d never do that. You were sure of it…

“All he did was give me a lift home!” You try to wiggle out of Ari’s grip but he holds you firmly against the wall, his huge body pinning you flat against it similar to how he had last night when he’d fucked you. Out of nowhere, a wave of anger surges through you, the memory of him using you and disposing of you flashing through your mind once again. And now he had the audacity to get mad at you for going home with someone else? The next words out of your mouth are spiteful:

“But it wouldn’t be a problem if I did hook up with Steve, would it? I mean, it’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

Quick as a wink, Ari flips you around, till your cheek is rammed up against the cold wall, and you can practically hear the angry rumble from his throat. He roughly yanks your shorts down your legs, along with your panties too. You struggle against him, but your protests die as his palm cracks down on your bare ass hard.

“Don’t you fucking even think about that.” Ari hisses, smacking your ass four times in quick succession.

“Stop!” You squeal, pushing back against him but he’s too big and strong, “Stop, you jerk! It hurts!”

“Don’t you ever even entertain the idea of hooking up with someone else.” Ari growls in your ear, his unforgiving hand raining slaps down on your poor, ass which already feels raw, “You’re mine. I own your whole fucking body and nobody else can touch you. Say it.”

You sob in pain, fighting against him, “No! You don’t respect me, you don’t–”

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he says through clenched teeth. Roughly, he pulls your pyjama shorts down, and your panties are quick to follow. His palm collides with your ass over and over again, alternating between your two bare cheeks with unforgiving slaps whilst ignoring your cries of protest. “I had you first. That means you’re mine, and he can’t have you. No one can have you unless I fucking say so.”

Your eyes widen, his words chilling you down to the bone. Never before has Ari ever sounded so serious, so scary. You swallow harshly, before gasping when he pinches your ass meanly. It hurts, you feel like your ass is on fire as he resumes slapping it over and over again. His other hand holds you tightly by the hip to keep you in place – otherwise, with the force of his smacks, you’d have gone flying across the room.

“Stop it, Ari! Fucking stop it!” You beg, trying to keep resilient despite the fact that your backside is stinging so bad. The last thing you want to do right now is start crying and fall into a submissive stupor that has you begging for his forgiveness and approval. And you know that very well could happen, because that’s what’s always happened in the past when he’s punished you.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“No! Fuck you!” You weren’t gonna give in to him. Not this time.

You squeal when his hand presses against your lower back, bending you over slightly. He spreads your glowing ass cheeks, swiping his finger up your slit. You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear him smirk at your wetness. Your body can’t help but respond to his touch… but it’s your mind and willpower that you need to keep strong right now.

“You won’t say it, huh? What, you decided to develop a mind of your own overnight?” He gathers your wetness on his finger, steering clear of your clit completely as his finger moves upwards instead. You clench involuntarily when you feel his digit probe your asshole, “I make all your decisions, you got that, sweetheart? I own you. I decide what you do, who you talk to, all of that shit.”

Oh, how was he so possessive over you when he couldn’t even call you his girlfriend? You just couldn’t understand him…

He forces his pointer finger into your asshole, making you scream out loud at the intrusion. He’s fingered your ass before, but never as roughly as now. You bite down on your lower lip – you’ve already screamed once but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing it again. His other hand leaves your hip to grab your hair, pulling your head back.

“Say you’re mine, or I’ll add another finger.”

“How can I be yours when you’re the one who doesn’t want me to be your girlfriend!?”

Ari scowls, and yet he doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to spank your ass. And his finger continues to pump in and out of you, and you find yourself biting your lip now to suppress your moans.

There was just something so carnal, so raw, about him finger-fucking your ass. He was stoic and angry right now, but in the past Ari would always tell you how obsessed he was with your butt. How cute and round it was, how it drove him crazy when you bent down in your cute little skirts. How you had the type of ass that was always just begging for a smack. And he’d always find reasons to “punish” you, insisting on spanking you for the smallest of offences. He’d told you that he loved how needy you got when he spanked you, and how he knew it got you horny when he fingered your butt.

But right now, it seemed like Ari was more fuelled by anger and jealousy than lust. And a part of you, despite everything, the neediest and most insecure part of you is happy that he’s so jealous. That he’s so affected by the prospect of you getting with Steve. And yet… Yet it clearly isn’t enough to get him to leave Sharon for you…

“I own you.” He grunts in your ear, “I don’t fucking care if you say it or not. But you’re not gonna speak to Steve Rogers again. Do I make myself clear?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, probably because he knows you won’t right now. There’s a shift in energy, you both can feel it. You know he can sense your mind fighting against him harder than ever before. It’s in the way you keep your mouth clamped shut, despite inwardly wanting to moan in pleasure.

Ari slips his hand down your front, cupping your mound as he continues to finger your butt with his other hand. You suppress another gasp, fighting the urge to press against his palm. You hear him smirk again from behind you, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. You exhale loudly, thrill shooting straight down to your core.

“Don’t think I give a fuck about you giving me the silent treatment,” he says into your ear, “Daddy can still make you cum harder than anyone else ever could, and you’ll cry like a fucking baby while you do it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and you clench hard. Your hips move on their own accord, thrusting forward to hump straight into his hand before you still them. But it feels so sinfully good, your clit rubbing against the hard heel of his palm. And it doesn’t help that he knows exactly how to move his hand against your bundle of nerves, circling and pressing and rubbing at you.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“There she is,” Ari murmurs cockily, “There’s my girl. I guess the little baby didn’t lose her voice after all…”

“I mean, fuck you.”

He snorts, rapidly pressing his finger in and out of your puckered hole with such force that he rocks you forward, making your pussy press deliciously against his hand.

“You’ll listen to me,” he says beguilingly, licking the shell of your ear, “you’ll do exactly what I say. I don’t care if you want to throw a tantrum right now and act out and pretend you don’t want me anymore. I own your pussy, and I decide when we’re done. Not you. Me.”

You drop your head in shame, the pleasure in your tummy making you almost dizzy. Your body sags, surrendering to him physically as he mauls you. The tight walls of your ass swallow his finger up each time he thrusts into you with it, the force jolting you forward, making you dry hump his hand. Your ass burns and yet it feels so sexy, and you know you’re losing yourself; you know you’re losing the battle…

“Say it. Say who’s making you feel this good,” Ari breathes, rubbing your clit sensually, coaxing you to rut against his hand, to chase your pleasure while he dangles it in front of you like a carrot. “Nobody else will ever make you feel like this, you got that? Just me. So, say it.”

“Ari,” his name falls past your lips in a choked whisper, and you scrunch your eyes shut as you cum violently. You spasm in his arms, pussy walls clenching and releasing over and over again as you squirt all over his hand.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, holding you up because your legs feel like jelly, and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. “It’s okay, you can be mad at daddy all you want. But I know what’s best for you, and I lo–” He pauses, clearing his throat and pressing his lips down on your neck, kissing and licking at your skin, “I own you, you got that?”

You don’t answer, and he walks backwards with you in his arms. He lays you down on the bed before making a show of licking your cream off his fingers. You lie there, watching him and trying to catch your breath. Coming down from that orgasmic high, a dark feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach. You’d let him get to you…again.

“We’ll go out tonight,” Ari announces, “I’ll pick you up around nine, and we’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“No.”

His eyes narrow, “What?”

It takes you a second to gather up your strength to sit up. Your orgasm has weakened you – or maybe it’s the emotional weight of what you’re about to say next.

“I said no, Ari. I don’t want to go out with you.”

He blinks, but doesn’t say anything. You take that as your cue to continue.

“I’m done, okay? I’m serious this time. I don’t wanna be with you if you’re still with her.” You suck in your breath, looking somewhere beyond his shoulder because it’s too intimidating to meet his gaze. “I don’t wanna go on a date that starts at nine in the evening when it’s pitch-black outside, just because you can’t risk being seen with me. I deserve better than that.”

Ari crosses his arms over his chest, regarding you carefully and yet he still doesn’t say anything.

“A-And I deserved better last night. I didn’t deserve to be left alone in that bathroom. I was high, and drunk, and I begged you to stay with me,” you bow your head, “I-I deserve someone who isn’t embarrassed of being with me in public, Ari.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you, I just can’t–”

“You can’t risk it, I know. You have a girlfriend. And I wish to God it was me, but it’s not. So, I’m done trying to persuade you.”

He scoffs, “You don’t mean that. You’re just in a mood, but you’ll come crawling back to me the moment you start feeling needy again.”

You shake your head sadly, “Think whatever you want to think, Ari. I’m done.”

Sighing lowly, you keep your head bowed as you pick at a loose thread on your quilt. You can’t bare to look at him, because a part of you knows that looking at him would make you melt and then he’d have you back eating out of the palm of his hand. But you were done this time, you were so exponentially done, and–

“Listen to me,” In a flash, Ari grips your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Forcing you to look into his menacing eyes that flash with indignation and anger. “If you end this now, then that’s it. We’re done. I won’t ever speak to you again.”

Your heart jolts, stunned by his harsh words. But that was what you’d decided you’d wanted, right? For you and him to be done? Or had you wanted him to grovel, apologise, break up with Sharon and shack up with you? Nevertheless, you try to remain strong.

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m serious. I know you think this is some kind of game and you’re playing hard to get, but I swear to God, I will leave this room and never even look at you again. Is that what you fucking want?”

His face is inches from yours, and you try to read his eyes. Try to understand him on any level, try to detect if there’s an inkling of care behind those eyes, even an iota of love or adoration for you. A desperation to stay with you, be with you. But you can’t. His face is unreadable, like a mask. And so a lone tear breaks free and meanders down your cheek, and you speak in a broken whisper:

“Maybe it’s for the best…”

He backs away as if you’ve stung him, or flung a vial of poison right in his face. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, chest rising and falling with each breath as he glares daggers at you. And a large part of you just wants to take it all back, to jump into his arms and burst out crying like you always do, and he’d make you feel better for the night and then leave before you woke up tomorrow. No, you had to stay strong.

Easily, like he’s slipping on that damned mask once more, Ari’s features morph from anger to nonchalance, and he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Fine. Then we’re done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something else before thinking better of it. Instead, he turns and leaves without a second glance back at you, his fists balled up at his sides.  

It’s only when he’s gone, and the door slams shut with a crushing finality, that you allow yourself to burst into tears. Loud, wracking, sobbing tears, and one word falls past your lips in a choked whisper:

“Bye.”

***

Heartbreak felt strange. For one thing, it was constant. You missed Ari all the time in the days that followed. You thought it would get easier after a few days, but two weeks later and you still felt like your heart had been sawed in half. And every time you’d see him on campus, your heart would jolt.

In the past, he’d always smile at you or give you a wink – even if he was with his girlfriend. Now? You may as well have been invisible for all he cared. He never looked at you, or whenever his eyes did glance in your direction, it was like he’d see right through you or over your head. You didn’t exist to him anymore. And it hurt.

But isn’t this what you had wanted?

Well, yes. And yet, you can’t fathom how it’s actually happened. A large part of you had expected him to come crawling back to you like how he had last time. You’d expected your phone to blow up with texts and calls from him, expected him to show up at your door at midnight for a booty call, even. But nope. Radio silence. You and Ari were well and truly done and he’d moved on.

And often, when you were getting ready in the morning, your gaze would fall on the blue and white varsity jacket still draped on your chair and wonder if it was time for you to move on to someone else too…

But Ari still plagued your mind, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to contact Steve or even if you wanted to. After all, all he’d done was give you a ride home when you were messy drunk and probably at your most unattractive. He probably wasn’t even interested in you like that…

“Oh my Gosh, Curtis is coming this way. Do I look okay? Do I need to powder my nose again?” Wanda hisses at you. The two of you are sat on one of the wooden tables in the campus courtyard. She quickly grabs your compact, not waiting for you to answer as she scrutinises her reflection in the tiny mirror.

Oh, right. Another important advancement in the past two weeks: Wanda and Curtis were now a thing. Which made it even harder to avoid Ari, who was Curtis’ best friend. Even now, as you look beyond Wanda’s shoulder, you can see Curtis walking towards her with Ari right next to him. To your relief, Ari hangs back, getting his phone out instead.

“Hey, babe.” Curtis pulls up behind Wanda, wrapping his arms around her while she throws your compact back at you so she can squeeze his bicep. It hits you in the face and you huff to yourself as you put it away, pointedly trying not to look at the two of them while they start to make out. Watching them be a happy couple especially stung seeing as your own “relationship” had ended in such a disaster.

Looking beyond them proves to be a mistake, however. Ari’s now been joined by Sharon, and the two of them are also wrapped up in a kiss. God, what was with everyone? You scowl and look down at your lap.

“What’s wrong with your friend, sweetie?” Curtis asks Wanda, his voice dripping with smug amusement. You almost scoff out loud at the use of “your friend,” as if this man hadn’t been flirting with you the night of the party two weeks ago. You still haven’t mentioned that to Wanda – not when she’s so happy with him now.

“Oh, nothing. She’s always moody nowadays.” Wanda says flippantly, pulling him down to sit on the bench next to her as the two of them continue to kiss obnoxiously. The buzzcut-haired man squarely grabs her breast and gives it a squeeze – right out in the open! But Wanda only giggles, letting him pull her into his lap and feel her up as their make-out session takes a quick, R-rated turn.

“That’s my cue to leave,” you mutter to yourself, gathering your books and standing up. The happy couple doesn’t even glance your way or even acknowledge you’ve said anything. You sigh, wondering whether this was what the rest of your college experience would be like. You’d had your fun at the start of the year and now you were doomed to be the third wheel to these two…

“Oh my gosh, you’re the girl from that party, aren’t you?”

A high-pitched voice knocks you out of your hole of self-pity, and you almost run smack into… Sharon. She’s standing by your wooden table now, hand in hand with Ari, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“H-Huh?” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. You’ve never spoken to Sharon before – and how could you? How could you even look her in the eye after you’d spent weeks and weeks sleeping with her boyfriend?

“You’re the girl from the party,” Sharon repeats, elegantly raising her voice over the obscene making out sounds coming from Curtis and Wanda. “I was pretty drunk but I remember you! You were in that gorgeous red dress, right?”

Your heart’s racing, and you wish you could disappear. Instead, you nod and force a smile.

“Yeah, that was me. Hi.”

“I thought so! You have to tell me where you got that dress, girl! I honestly couldn’t stop talking about it. I mean, just ask my boyfriend!” She nudges Ari, who is trying his best to appear nonchalant, ignoring her as he texts someone on his phone. Sharon rolls her eyes before continuing, “I was totally off my face drunk, but if I remember anything, it’s that dress.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile. “I was pretty drunk too. And the dress is from this website called White Fox Boutique. Look, I have to go–”

“Did you get home okay?” Sharon interrupts, her face morphing into a look of concern. And God, you hate how kind she’s being. It would have been easier to swallow the fact that you’d slept with her boyfriend had she been a bitch. Not a ray of literal sunshine who was so pretty to boot – with messy blonde hair cascading down her back in perfect waves, and the sparkliest blue eyes. No wonder Ari had chosen her – she was absolutely stunning, and even more so up close.

“Yes, I got a lift home–”

“Oh, that’s right! You were with Steve Rogers, that guy from St. Jude’s!” Sharon says excitedly, clasping her manicured hands together before grabbing Ari’s bicep, “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend now. Although it’s a good thing we both had our boyfriends there that night to get us home safely.”

Ari snorts, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation: “He’s not her boyfriend.”

“Um, okay. And how would you know that, babe?” Sharon smiles sweetly up at him.

The brunet freezes, glancing at you for a nanosecond before he clears his throat. “That guy couldn’t hold down a girl if his life depended on it. He’s too volatile.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. He has this weird rivalry thing with Steve Rogers. They’re both basketball players, you see.”

You nod, trying to pretend like this is all new information to you. “Uh, right. Well, Steve isn’t my boyfriend, actually. I only met him that night and he was kind enough to give me a lift home. Speaking of home, I gotta g–”

“You and Steve would make a cute couple,” Sharon muses, “you guys looked good together that night.”

You smile awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other and not knowing what to say. She clearly had an excellent memory of that night considering she was off her face drunk for the majority of it.

You hear Ari huff while you’re wracking your brain for an excuse to leave. Sneaking a glance at him, you find him frowning, his hands curled up into fists by his side. Oh, he was affected! Did that mean he still cared? A lightbulb goes off in your head…

“M-Maybe I will go out with Steve. We’ve been texting a lot since that night.” Your voice comes out shaky, the lie feeling foreign on your tongue.

Ari glares daggers at you, “That’s a bad idea.”

Sharon slaps his chest lightly, “Don’t be rude! I think that’s a fabulous idea!”

The brunet bristles and looks down at his girlfriend with an annoyed look on his face, “Don’t you have a class you need to be getting to?”

“I do but–”

“Go.”

Your eyes widen at his gruff tone, and you’re even more surprised when Sharon nods at his command. What was it about Ari that made every girl around him bow down to his authority so easily? You’d been guilty of it too in the past…

“Okay, grumpy-pants,” she says easily before turning to you, “it was nice meeting you! I’m Sharon, by the way.”

You tell her your name.

“Cool, I’ll find you on Instagram. You can text me the details of your dress there!” She says happily, and all you can do is nod while Ari continues staring at you with a steely expression on his face. Clearly, he was bothered by the idea of you and Steve texting! So what if it wasn’t even true?

You stare back at him defiantly, finally feeling like you’ve gained the upper hand in the two weeks since you two have been apart.

In response, Ari narrows his eyes, grabbing Sharon as she’s about to walk away. Your heart drops when he kisses her right in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as his lips move against hers. You feel your face grow hot, then cold, then hot again, heart feeling like someone’s shredding it into pieces. How could he? Your eyes well with tears, but you fight to keep them at bay because you can’t cry here, not in front of everyone.

He continues making out with her, being as obscene as possible as his eyes lock with yours, and you just stand there, frozen and gormless, not even able to look away. Finally, after what feels like ten years, they break apart. Sharon giggles, and Ari slaps her ass before sending her on her way. You wish you could gouge your eyes out.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter lowly once Sharon is out of earshot.

“And you’re a liar.”

“What?”

Ari steps closer to you, “I can always tell when you’re lying. You’re not texting Steve.”

You roll your eyes before pushing past him, “It’s none of your business anyways.”

Curtis – you’d forgotten he was even there – breaks a kiss with Wanda to grin up at you. “Don’t mind Ari, he’s just been extremely crabby lately. Not getting laid does that to people.” He goes in for another kiss, adding against Wanda’s lips, “Same can’t be said about you and me, huh, sweetheart?”

Ugh.

“Wanda, I’m leaving. Are you coming?” You ask, doing your best to ignore the two basketball players.

“What? Uh, no, I’m busy,” your friend answers distractedly before Curtis pulls her back in for another kiss.

“You’ll stay away from Steve if you know what’s best for you.” Ari says quietly.

Great. Was he seriously threatening you now?

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you raise your chin up at him defiantly once more.

Ari scowls, running a hand through his hair. You know him well enough to know that he does that when he’s frustrated. “Look, I’m being serious. It’s for your own good–”

“Why do you even care? I thought we were done, Ari.”

“We are done.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, okay!? I’ll date whoever I want to date.”

“Not him.”

“Yes, him.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“We’ll vacate this bench if you two need the space to fuck.” Curtis offers jokingly, but both of you ignore him as you stare each other down.

Finally, you huff, attempting to sidestep him but he’s way too big and easily blocks your path. A second attempt, and he blocks you again – and this time he has the audacity to smirk amusedly. That boils your blood, and you glare up at him. How dare he try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date? When he just made out with Sharon five inches away from your face not even two minutes ago!?

 “Just listen to me for once,” Ari grabs your wrist but you’re quick to tug it back. His scowl deepens, but he doesn’t grab you again, “Steve is bad news. He–”

“He can’t be any worse than the guys I already do know.” You cut him off pointedly before turning around and walking away without a second glance.

***

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here.”

You’re all too familiar with the university’s basketball court – you used to come here all the time to watch Ari play. That didn’t mean you wanted to be here now. In fact, it was the last place you wanted to be, and you’d told Wanda that several times but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Curtis is playing, and as his girlfriend, I need to be there for moral support.”

You wrinkle your nose; she’d only been going out with Curtis for a few weeks now and yet she was running around acting like Curtis was the president and she was the first lady or something. She didn’t really have any time to be your best friend anymore. You and Wanda had bonded at the start of the academic year – doing everything from attending society meetings together to having movie nights and sleep overs.

But now, it was all “Curtis wants me to go to this new club with him,” and “Curtis says that it’s okay to bunk lectures once in a while!” and “Oh sorry, I can’t hang out tonight – Curtis’ schedule just got cleared up so he needs me to go to his room.” It made you wonder whether you’d been this insufferable too when you were with Ari.

“Moral support? Wanda, this isn’t even a proper game. It’s just a practice,” you remind her, “and anyways, I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s not like I’m dating Curtis.”

“Of course not, you’re not his type at all. I just couldn’t show up alone, that’s just sad,” says Wanda before she spies Curtis in the corner of the court with a few other teammates, all of them stretching and doing warm-ups. She waves at him like mad, blowing kisses in his direction. He shoots her a quick smile before turning around to talk to a nearby cheerleader.

You spot a familiar figure, tanned, tall and muscular with his long brown hair pushed back with one of those metal wire headbands that men wore, barking out a game plan to the rest of his team. Ari. You freeze.

“Wanda!” You hiss, tugging hard at her sleeve, “You said that Curtis told you that Ari was sick and wouldn’t be at practice today!”

Wanda blinks, “Oh. That was a lie.”

“What!?”

She shrugs, “Come on. I needed you here today and I knew there was no way you’d come if you knew Ari was here. Hey, does my lip gloss look okay, by the way? I’m gonna go say hi to Curtis.”

“Don’t leave me all by myself!”

Wanda rolls her eyes, tugging her arm out of your grasp, “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back anyways. In the meantime, just find us a good spot to sit. Somewhere close to the front where Curtis will be able to see me.”

And she’s gone before you know it. Great. The last thing you needed right now was Ari thinking you’d come here specifically to see him play. And with his big head – that’s exactly what he’d think. You contemplate just leaving – you could tell Wanda that you’d had a medical emergency or something. Or maybe you could just sit somewhere in the back or hide in the bleachers, and Ari would never have to know you were here. He was too busy ordering his team around, he hadn’t noticed you yet anyways, and maybe you could–

“Sweetheart, I was hoping I’d see you here.”

A warm hand grasps your waist, and your first reaction is to jump back and smack whoever’s touching you in such a forward way. But then you turn, being met by a sturdy chest covered by a blue and white St. Jude’s basketball jersey. Golden hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Angelic face.

“Steve!” You exclaim, before realising that you sound way too happy to see someone who is essentially still a stranger to you. You clear your throat, trying to sound more casual. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Our court is being renovated, so we got permission to practice here with your team.” He flashes you a bright smile, his hand still on your waist, his thumb stroking you from over your blouse. His eyes rake over you unabashedly, and you find yourself growing hot under his gaze. “This is a really pretty outfit you got on, sweetheart. Is it for anyone in particular?”

You were wearing a pink blouse and cardigan set, with a matching pink tennis skirt which had unfortunately shrunk in the washing machine. You’d still worn it though, promising yourself you wouldn’t make the mistake of bending over and giving everyone within close vicinity a good eyeful of your panties.

“Oh, uh, no, not for anyone in particular,” you babble. You feel nervous around him, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Thanks for getting me home safely that night, by the way. I, uh, I meant to thank you the next morning but I didn’t have your number or anything.”

Steve nods, shooting you a wink, “That’s alright, princess. I think it’s me who should be thanking you for that night.” His hand slips down to your hip, giving it a warm, meaningful squeeze.

You frown, “Why would you be thanking me? I didn’t do anything.” Your Uber ride home with Steve was still a blur to you, but you doubt anything eventful had happened during it. “Oh, don’t tell me I kept you entertained with all my drunken chatter. I’m sorry, I do that sometimes, and I was so embarrassingly drunk that night.”

He blinks, before a slow smile spreads across his face, “Baby girl, don’t you remember?”

“I remember me being a total embarrassment, and you being a total gentleman. You even gave me your jacket and I still have it now!” You say brightly, picturing his varsity jacket still hung up on your desk chair back in your dorm room. “I wanted to return it to you but you never called, or texted, or…” your eyes widen when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, not that I expected you to call me. I understand that all you did was give me a lift home. I’m not insinuating that you had to call me, or that you’re attracted to me–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve easily grabs your chin before his thumb brushes upwards over your lips, effectively shutting you up. His eyes are intense, and so close, his lashes fanning his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I am attracted to you.” He says squarely, before chuckling, “I thought that much was obvious. I should’ve gotten your number that night, baby girl, but you’d been drinking a lot.” His eyes glint as he licks his lips, “And I’d never take advantage of you when you were drunk.”

Oh, he was such a gentleman! Of course, he’d never take advantage of you while you were drunk! Unlike dumb, stupid Ari! As if on cue, you look beyond Steve’s shoulder, the tiniest part of you hoping that Ari’s watching this interaction between you and the blonde. But the brunet is busy warming up now, grunting as he does his push-ups in the corner of the gym, his tanned, muscular arms bulging. You almost bite your lip before focusing back on Steve.

“Give me your phone,” Steve says suddenly, and you’re obeying him before you’ve even registered what he’s asked. He smirks, taking it from you and typing his number in, saving it before handing it back to you. “You’ll text me tonight, won’t you?”

Was he asking you or was he telling you? Either way, you find yourself nodding.

His eyes bore into yours, “Say it, then. Say you’ll text me tonight.”

Oh, he was so intense! But you don’t seem to mind one bit. Again, you nod. “Y-Yes, Steve. I’ll text you tonight.”

He gives you a relaxed smile, “Good. We can discuss where I’ll take you on our first date.”

A thrill ripples through you. A date?! You’d never been on a date before! Oh wow, this was–

“Hey, you guys!”

Sharon’s bright voice echoes across the gym as she makes her way over towards the two of you. Sharon. Of course. Of course, she’d be here – she was a cheerleader. And she looked beautiful as she always did, with her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun, her cute cheerleading outfit accentuating all her curves perfectly. You’re hit with a sudden wave of insecurity – would Steve forget about you now that she was here? – but you try to keep it at bay.

The truth was, Sharon had requested you on Instagram a few days ago as she’d promised she would. And you’d had to follow her back, which was painful enough seeing as half of her pictures were her with Ari. But she was sweet when she texted you asking about where your red dress was from, and a few more mini-conversations and a bit of small talk later, clearly, she thought the two of you were friends.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sharon squeals, giving you a quick hug which you reciprocate whilst wondering why exactly she’s so happy to see you. She nods at Steve with a humorous twinkle in her eye, “And you’re Steve Rogers, aka Ari’s best friend in the whole world.”

Steve snorts, “Yep. That’s me.”

She giggles, looking from him to you and back to him again, “Let me guess. You guys are a couple now.”

You shake your head, “No, we–”

“–We are.” Steve cuts you off, winking at Sharon before wrapping his arm properly around your waist and pulling you into him. Your eyes widen, cheeks feeling hot. You weren’t at all used to public displays of affection like this, nor were you used to anyone being as forward as Steve was being right now. After all, this was only your second time meeting him- how was he already telling people you were together? And why weren’t you objecting to it?

Sharon clasps her hands together excitedly, “Yay! I told her you guys would make the cutest couple.”

Steve chuckles, and your eyes widen when his hand meanders downward. His palm settles on your ass, cupping it as he casually speaks to Sharon. She’s in front of you, so she can’t see it, but your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you feel his big, warm hand cup your ass through your tennis skirt, even giving it a squeeze.

“Careful, Sharon. You might get in trouble if your boyfriend sees you talking to me.” Steve jokes airily, as if he isn’t kneading your ass cheek at the same time. Your face is on fire, but you also feel your walls clench, turned on by the extra attention he’s giving you as he nonchalantly talks to someone else. It’s hot.

“Pfft, no way. Ari doesn’t care who I talk to, he’s not really the possessive type.”

“Interesting…” Steve murmurs softly, almost to himself.

“Look, there he is now,” Sharon waves across the court, “Hey, babe!”

You follow her gaze, watching Ari as he dribbles the basketball casually. Upon hearing her voice, he looks up. He’s got a disinterested look on his face as he nods in acknowledgement at Sharon, but then his eyes meet yours. And it’s like the whole world freezes over, and your body freezes and your blood freezes.

Ari’s face contorts from disinterest to shock as he drinks in you standing with Steve. You feel your chest tighten, as if your body can’t decide between feeling triumphant that you’re making Ari jealous, or upset that you’re making Ari jealous. Either way, you hear Steve smirk, and then he pulls you closer, giving your ass an even harder squeeze that has you yelping.

The shock on Ari’s face quickly morphs into hatred and disdain. He’s all the way across the court, and yet you can see his knuckles redden as he grips the ball so tightly you fear it may explode. A part of you wants to move away from Steve out of respect for Ari, but you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to. Steve’s grip is like iron around you, his palm glued to your ass as if he owns it.

Almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

You don’t know what to expect from Ari, but you brace yourself nevertheless as he makes his way over. But the dark look on his face has melted away, and by the time he reaches you, he looks cool as a cucumber, almost as if he’s slipped on a mask of nonchalance at the drop of a dime. You always wondered how he did that so easily…

“Why aren’t you out there cheering me on?” He asks Sharon, pulling her into his chest and pointedly kissing her. Your blood starts boiling once more and you subconsciously sidestep closer to Steve, lifting your chin up in defiance in Ari’s direction. The brunette side-eyes you and clutches Sharon closer in return.  

Sharon beams up at Ari, “I was talking to Y/N. I’ll go in a second, because the squad is starting a new routine today and I want us to get it down in time for the next big game, and–”

But Ari’s no longer listening to her; him and Steve have now locked gazes much like how they did weeks ago at the party.

“I’m not sure why you even decided to show up today, Steve.” Ari breaks the steely silence first, “No amount of practice could help your godawful team beat mine.”

Steve smirks, undeterred. Pointedly, his arm tightens around you. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Something tells me you’ll be distracted tonight.”

Ari – somehow – looks equally unbothered, never breaking eye contact with Steve. You think you see his lip curl into a snarl for a millisecond, but it’s gone before you can be sure. “Even distracted, I’d still beat your ass.”

The blond snorts, “Your overconfidence is going to cost you, Ari. It’s what made you lose her.”

“Lose who?” asks Sharon, but she quickly grows distracted by the cheerleaders that are in the corner of the court, “Ugh, I gotta go. They’re trying to practice the pyramid and we need six of us to make it work. I’ll catch you later, okay? Please don’t try to kill Steve while I’m gone.” She kisses Ari’s cheek before waving at you and Steve and skipping away.

That just leaves you, standing frozen by Steve’s side while the two men lock eyes in their silent battle. And why does it kind of hurt, the fact that Ari hasn’t looked at you even once throughout it? In a way, you’re relieved that all they seem to be disagreeing over is basketball and who would beat who (aka lame boy stuff). But then that in turn makes you wonder: Is Ari not even affected by Steve’s arm around you? But then why did you even care if he was or wasn’t affected? And how was Steve being so forward, and, and, and–

“I-I gotta go. Wanda’s calling for me.” You lie, slipping out of Steve’s grip and scurrying away. The energy bouncing off both of them made you feel nervous, on edge, almost unsafe. You look back over your shoulder now to see them still staring at each other. Cold, barren stares that seemed to have grown more intense now that you’d left. It makes you gulp, and you wonder if it’s just a basketball rivalry between them after all – or it it’s something more.

“Where the hell have you been? Didn’t I tell you to find us good seats?” Wanda rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and yanking you over to the last remaining front row seats. You try to clear your head of any thoughts of Ari or Steve, instead marvelling over how many people had showed up to watch these two teams play together in what was just a practice match.

“I was, uh, I just saw Steve.”

“Who?”

“He’s the… he gave me a lift home the night of the party.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose, about to say something before she grows distracted, “Look! There’s Curtis! The game’s about to start!!”

You never held much of an interest in basketball, even when you used to watch Ari play. But now, you pay attention carefully as the teams hit the court. Ari’s team have maroon jerseys and Steve’s team are in blue. They huddle on opposite sides of the court before the coach blows a whistle and they start playing.

“Look how good Curtis looks in his jersey,” Wanda gushes.

Ari looks pretty good too, you almost say out loud. And Steve too.

Both Ari and Steve were very similar on the court. Both the respective captains of their own team, you observe them ordering their teammates around, calling out strategies and gameplans, hyping the players up. They moved around similarly too, both so big and beefy and yet so fluid and lithe when dribbling the ball across the court. They were both clearly the most talented players out of everyone, yet you couldn’t tell who was better between the two of them.

“C’mon Rogers, is that the best you can do!?” Ari taunts after shooting an easy three-pointer about a minute into the game.

Steve rolls his eyes before beckoning one of his teammates closer. He’s a brunette with “Barnes” printed on the back of his jersey. The two of them confer for a few seconds while Ari and Curtis laugh and gloat with their own teammates. Then the coach blows the whistle again.

You zone out for a while, the maroon and blue jerseys becoming a blur as they whiz across the court. A bunch more points scored, the roar of the crowd, Wanda shrieking happily every time Curtis scores or jogs close to your seats. You, however, are much more interested in the way Steve had brazenly felt you up just now before this practice match had begun. Or how Ari hadn’t even looked at you when he’d come over to confront Steve. Or how…

“You fucking tripped him.” Steve seethes, the frustration in his voice carrying across the court and making you refocus on the game which has suddenly halted. The blond looks pissed, a borderline lethal look on his face as he kneels down next to his teammate. The brunette, “Barnes” is on the shiny floor, clutching his knee in pain.

Ari shrugs, “No I didn’t.”

Curtis snickers behind him.

Steve gets to his feet and shakes his head, but he barely has time to react before Ari throws the ball at him. Hard. It hits Steve squarely on the chest before he catches it, his jaw twitching as he does.

“C’mon, Rogers. You got a sub for your friend or are we gonna have to call it like last time?” Ari grins.

The brunet called Barnes limps to his feet, “Nah, I can play.”

Ari frowns. But the coach blows the whistle and the game resumes. This time, you pay closer attention. You note how Curtis is playing dirty, shadowing Barnes till he’s nearly on top of him, even trampling on his feet a few times.

And it’s meant to just be a practice game, but Ari and Steve look like they’re playing in the basketball world championships – or whatever it was called, it’s not like you would know. Both look stone-faced and determined, stealing the ball from each other multiple times, blocking each other, not letting each other shoot. They seem to be within a game of their own, one which was mental almost as much as it was physical.

“Is that all you got, Steve?” Ari taunts as he steals the ball from the blonde.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve mutters, stealing the ball straight back.

Back and forth it goes, neither of them letting the other shoot. Taunting and jeering each other every chance they get.

“What’s the deal with them?” You find yourself asking Wanda, your eyes glued to the court, “Why do they hate each other so much? Has Curtis ever told you?”

Wanda shrugs, “All I know is that the last time our team played against Steve’s, he lost it and got a yellow card, making his whole team lose. Curtis told me that. Basketball is a competitive game, Y/N. I thought you knew that.”

This seemed more than just a silly sports rivalry, though…

“I fucking saw that, you bald fuck!” Steve rages at Curtis, halting the game once more. “If you trip another one of my guys one more fucking time–”

“You’ll what? Blow your top off and get another yellow card?” Ari smoothly steps in front of Steve, squaring up to the blond with a smirk on his face, “Not a single person in here would be surprised, pretty boy.”

In a flash, Steve has hold of the front of Ari’s jersey, “Keep fucking talking–”

Ari doesn’t back down, and your heart begins to thud like crazy as you watch them. They’re quite close to where you and Wanda are sat, but you have to lean forward to hear what exactly they’re saying.

“Not so fucking smug now, are you?” The brunet sneers lowly. “Thought you could dangle her in front of my fucking face? But you can’t keep a girl, pretty boy. And you can’t keep your cool either.”

They’re like two Adonises, one as ripped as the other. One every bit as tall and built as the other. One every bit as handsome as the other. And both with an equal look of hatred on their faces, a kind of deep-seated hatred that made you uncomfortable, that chilled you down to your bones as you sit frozen in place, watching it all unfold.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve murmurs threateningly, a blue vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to pop.

Ari smiles coolly, “Or what? Gonna let your team down again, Rogers? Maybe a yellow’s not enough for you, maybe you’re aiming for a red card this time, huh?”

“A red card’s worth splitting your fucking skull–”

“ROGERS, LEVINSON, BREAK IT UP!”

You jump when both the teams’ coaches blow their whistles, making their way over to the two captains. Curtis drags Ari away, and a guy with “Wilson” on his jersey, as well as Barnes both pull Steve in the other direction too. A five-minute recess is called, and you can’t believe what you’ve just seen.

In his team’s respective corner, you watch as Ari snatches up a bottle of water and takes a long swig before pouring the rest of it over his head, as if to cool himself down. Swivelling your eyes, you see Steve in his team’s corner of the court, his hands curled into fists by his side as Barnes and Wilson speak lowly to him. But his blue eyes seem far, far away. And his jaw remains tensed, a dark, almost unreadable look on his face.

The game resumes, but this time it feels different. The dynamic between the two men is completely juxtaposed from what it was the night of the party. Then, Steve seemed in control, laughing as Ari lost his cool. Now, it’s the complete opposite. Ari seems to have recovered from the scuffle, resuming his taunts and insults as he dribbles the ball up and down the court like a pro. But Steve is somewhat out of it, still playing well but almost as if he’s out-of-sync with himself, as if his mind is elsewhere.

And Ari seems to have picked up on it.

“What’s the matter, Rogers? About to lose it again?” Ari snickers after he’s dodged Steve and scored another three-pointer.

Steve says nothing.

St. Andrews (Ari’s team) is up by three points. There’s no scoreboard as it was just a practice and not an official match, but there’s a freshman in the front row – Jake Jensen – who’s acting like a play-by-play commentator.

“Will Steve Rogers lose his marbles and cost his team another match?” Jake speaks into his headset in a suspenseful tone, “Will this all-star athlete crack under the pressure? Will he succumb to the opposition’s tireless taunts? Will the golden boy lose his cool once more? Will he–”

Steve swiftly tosses the ball aside, and the ref barely has time to blow the whistle to call for a time out before the blond grabs Jake Jensen by the collar and hoists him up in the air as if the freshman weighs nothing more than a feather.

“You say one more fucking word, I’ll shove this headset up your fucking ass, got that?” Steve shoves Jensen back in his seat before throwing the poor freshman’s headset at his face, knocking his glasses off. Jake swallows and nods, his mouth clamped shut and a frightened look on his face.

You bite your lip and watch as Steve returns to the game. He’s still got that far-away look in his face, as if he isn’t quite one hundred percent there. He also looks agitated, rattled, unnerved. You feel wary of him, and yet at the same time you also feel a pang of pity, a part of you wanting to go up there and give him a hug despite the fact that you don’t know him like that.

The game starts up again, and quite frankly, you really just want this damned practice to end already. The atmosphere is so intense, so thick, you could practically cut through it with a knife. Steve scores a point, then Ari does, then Steve, then Ari – it’s almost like they’re playing a one-on-one match and everyone else on the court is a paid actor.

“You’re losing your edge, pretty boy,” Ari starts his taunting once more, “Do it. Lose it. Let everyone down, Rogers. Show everyone what a–

“GODDAMIT, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

 Steve explodes. What happens next happens very quickly. Steve, in a fleeting fit of rage, throws the ball straight at Ari’s face. Hard. Except Ari dodges it just in time. You hardly register what happens after that, and –

THWACK.

The ball hits you right in the face.

Commotion around you. Yelling. Whistles blowing. People talking. Whispers of your name. You think you even hear a snicker from right next to you. And yet you hardly take in any of it, trying your best to catch your breath. Your ears are ringing, your face burning with immediate pain.

Oh god, oh god, oh my god!

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Ari roars at Steve.

You try and find your voice, try to voice that you’re okay, try to grab for Wanda’s hand but it’s like you’re stunned into place. And truth be told, you’re not okay. The whole right side of your face where the basketball hit you hardest throbs in pain. You can even feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Oh, but you can’t cry here, you just can’t! But it hurts! Oh, it hurts so bad!

The next thing you know, you’re being scooped up into someone’s muscular arms.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ari. You blink several times to clear your fuzzy vision. Were you imagining him? No, his arms feel very solid and familiar around you as he lifts you up, carrying you out of the crowd and to the side of the court.

“It hurts!” You can’t help but whimper, feeling like a baby. A disoriented, helpless baby.

“Oh my gosh, is she okay?!” You hear Sharon run up to you two. Shit. Ari wouldn’t be caught dead holding you in his arms in front of his girlfriend, would he? Despite your disoriented state, despite all the pain, you brace yourself for him to drop you.

“Go get some ice,” Ari orders her. “There’s an ice box in the locker room. Go.”

You’re too preoccupied with your throbbing face to really notice Sharon’s reaction, but she dutifully does what he tells her.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry,” Now you hear Steve’s voice, a scuffle which was him probably pushing past people. You try to straighten up in Ari’s arms so you can look at the blond, but dizziness overtakes you. You can still hear him though, despite the ringing in your ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Ari growls.

“Shut the fuck up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m talking to you, asshole. You’ve already done enough.”

Ari walks away with you in his arms. You’re finally able to look over his shoulder as he carries you, and catch one last glimpse of Steve just standing there. He’s staring at his hand, flexing it in front of him as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. But it wasn’t his fault, was it?! You can’t think straight, and your face throbs with pain if you try to touch it.

“I can’t fucking believe him,” Ari fumes, as he walks the two of you into a bathroom off the side of the court. You welcome the privacy, being away from the multiple pairs of eyes that had been ogling you when the basketball had hit your face. He gently sits you down on the sink before grabbing a first aid kit that’s conveniently in one of the drawers. “I told you he was trouble, didn’t I? Now he’s physically attacked you in front of everyone. He’s a fucking psychopath–”

“Ari, it hurts,” you interrupt, your voice all wobbly.

The brunet’s features soften. He’s got an ointment in one hand, but he uses his other one to brush your cheek, coming up to stand between your dangling legs.

“This’ll numb the pain.” He says, his voice soft like a cloud. And you’ve never felt this type of softness from him before. Especially not in the past few weeks whilst he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. He spreads the numbing ointment over and around your eye, and you sigh, feeling a little relief.

“That’s a good girl,” Ari murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your leg and giving it a squeeze, “He got you straight in the eye, that dumb fucking prick. It’s definitely gonna bruise, but you’re doing so good, baby. You’re being such a brave little girl.”

Oh god, the way he was speaking was giving you butterflies! Why was he doing it? Did he still care about you?!

“Why are you being so nice?” You blurt out, the pain on your face making you deliriously bold.

Ari snorts, squeezing your thigh, “Baby, I can be nice. You know that.”

Well, he’d been awful these past few weeks. He’d been awful to you the night of the party, too. And yet… You can feel yourself slipping, getting lost in his blue eyes that seem to be sparkling with earnesty, and– No! No, you weren’t going to let yourself go there. Not this time!

“Y-You weren’t being so nice to Steve tonight.” You accuse, trying to shake off the romantic tension that seems to be creeping up on both of you, trapping you in that bubble of desire that you always seem to find yourself in alone with him.

Ari scoffs. “Don’t defend that asshole, not after he gave you a black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? That he was bad news?” Ari’s hand doesn’t leave your bare thigh, and you’re acutely aware of his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Now he’s gone and hurt you just like I knew he would.”

“You were goading him the whole time, Ari!”

“That doesn’t give him the excuse to physically assault you.”

“That’s not what it was!” You try to frown, but it makes your eye throb with pain, and you wince instead.

“Well, either way, you’re never gonna see him again after tonight.” Ari declares.

Your jaw drops open, “Excuse me?”

He meets your gaze squarely, the hint of an amused smile touching his lips, “You heard me. He’s too volatile, and if you had listened to me, you’d know that.”

“He only blew up like that because you wouldn’t stop insulting him!”

It’s his turn to frown, “He blew up like that because that’s who he is.”

You regard Ari suspiciously, “How do you know him so well?”

Ari sighs, suddenly devoting all his attention to screwing the cap back on to the ointment bottle. He takes his time, carefully placing the bottle back in the first aid kit before he refocuses on you. You expect him to answer your question, but instead he cups your face (the side that hadn’t been hit by a basketball).

“Sweetheart, the bottom line is that he hurt you.” Ari’s voice drops a few octaves, his face suddenly so close to yours, so close that you can see his long lashes flutter as he blinks, “I didn’t like that.”

You bite your lip, goosebumps running up and down your arms. You feel a sudden sense of dejavu – being in a bathroom with Ari alone like you were all those weeks ago at that party. The bathroom where he’d left you. “Wh-Why didn’t you like it?”

“You know why.” He moves even closer, his lips looking so plump and pink…

“No. Tell me.”

“Because I care about you. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night.”

Tenderly, he kisses you. And you don’t even fight it, easily melting into it despite everything. Despite how much you’d coached yourself not to fall for him again. His lips just feel so good, so natural, so him. And he’s holding you so gently, almost like you’re made out of glass. It’s like it’s a different Ari that’s kissing you now, so different from the man you’d gotten to know, from the man who’d hurt you and lied to you countless times.

The two of you pull apart, before instinctively pulling back in for another kiss. And you don’t know if it’s you or him that initiates the second one, but it’s like there’s an invisible string between the two of you, keeping you connected no matter how hard you try to run away.

“Ari,” you whisper against his lips, “Ari, what does this mean?”

He says nothing, continuing to peck at your lips. His hand slips up your skirt, but you quickly grab it to halt him. No, you needed answers this time before you took it any further.

“Y-You said you care about me.”

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

“Are you going to break up with Sharon?”

Silence.

And just like that, the bubble pops. You crash back down to reality. Your black eye throbs, your heart throbs, and now your head’s throbbing too. Sighing sadly, you push Ari away.

“Hey, look, I’ll figure something out.”

You shake your head, “I don’t have time for you to figure something out, Ari. It’s either me or her. Because honestly, Sharon doesn’t deserve this and neither do I. And I’m not going to start sneaking around with you again if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ari doesn’t say anything, but his eyes look torn. He opens his mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut again and sighing. Running a hand through his mane, he leans forward as if to kiss you again, but you turn your head, not wanting to give in to the temptation a second time.

His silence is all the answer you need. With a heavy heart, you sigh.

“We need to pull the plug on this – whatever this is.” You say firmly, “and maybe it’s time for me to see other people so I can properly move on from you.”

Immediately, Ari’s eyes narrow, “What, like Steve? I already told you he’s dangerous.”

“He likes me and he’s not afraid to be seen with me in public!”

“He’s not afraid to physically assault you in public, that’s for sure.”

Round and round the two of you went, in this never-ending circle of fighting then making up then fighting again. It needed to end. You had to end it.

“Steve asked me out earlier today, and I think I’m going to go.” You scoot off the sink, feeling a bit shaky on your feet but overall alright enough to walk away.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Ari blocks your path, looking frustrated beyond belief. “Look, the only reason he even asked you out is because he wants to get back at me.”

Your jaw drops open for the second time in the span of five minutes. Angrily, you push past him, “You’re a fucking dick, Ari.”

“I’m not saying it to hurt you, I–”

“No, just shut up!” You interrupt, “Another guy asks me out and you can’t help but make it about yourself, can you? Because God forbid a guy likes me for me, right? Fuck you.”

He opens his mouth to as if to say something, but the door to the bathroom pushes open at that exact second.

“There you guys are!” Sharon huffs, looking red and out of breath, with a bag of ice in her hands. “It took me ages to find the ice box, are you okay?!”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You answer, but she insists on icing your eye for you. It makes you feel even worse, standing there and allowing her to gently press the ice against your injury. The physical relief is instantaneous, but you feel icky on the inside. Yet again, you’d kissed her boyfriend behind her back. And it was even worse since you and her were kind of friends now.

Ari slips out of the bathroom without another word, and you watch over Sharon’s shoulder as he leaves. As he disappears down the corridor until he’s just a shadow, and only then you allow yourself to let out a long sigh. There. It was done. You and Ari were over now.

Forever.

***

“Sorry again for the black eye,” Steve says, his hand pressing against the small of your back as he leads you up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. “I promise I don’t usually have to resort to violence to get a girl to go out with me.”

It’s been a week since the fateful basketball practice game. Steve had texted you that very night, apologising over and over again for throwing the ball at your face. You were forgiving, naturally. It wasn’t his fault, and it’s not like he was aiming for you anyways. After that, the conversation had quickly flowed over to other things, and you found Steve easy to talk to over text. It wasn’t as intimidating, and he led most of the conversation, telling you how he’d love to take you out that weekend. The two of you had texted all week – and it was a welcome distraction from Ari, anyways.

Now, you giggle, feeling all glowy and special because the day of your date is finally here. You’re outside, the sun is shining and Steve’s confidently taken your hand in his. In comparison, you can’t even remember the last time you’d held hands with Ari – or if you’d ever held hands with Ari for that matter.

“That’s alright, Stevie. Just as long as you promise not to do it again, I don’t think I’d fare well as a battered and abused wife.” You answer before your eyes widen once you’ve realised what you’ve said. Had you just referred to yourself as his… wife? On your very first date? God… What the fuck was wrong with you?

But Steve only smirks, pulling you up the stairs leading to the front door of his house before yanking you into him, taking you by surprise. Your face collides with his hard chest as he kisses the top of your head. Your cheeks immediately go hot – he was so forward sometimes! No. All the time. He was incredibly forward all the time. And you don’t think you mind it in the least.

“Trust me, sweetheart. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t have allowed you to run around in that slutty little outfit at practice in front of so many feral basketball players.” He says, grabbing his keys from his pocket and going to unlock the door.

You bite your lip, “Are you calling yourself feral?”

His gaze is intense as he looks back at you, but then he chuckles, “Baby girl, with you prancing around in that tiny excuse of a skirt, who wouldn’t be feral?”

Your eyes widen and you stare down at the floor again, cheeks forever hot at his way with words. Steve smirks, pulling you inside. You find yourself in a massive foyer. You’d never seen anything like it, because the front door to your family’s house back home simply led into a living room. But this place was all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and grand staircases – like a fairytale palace.

Everything leading up to this moment had felt surreal like a fairytale. Steve had picked you up promptly at 4pm, just like he said he would. And he’d checked every box on the imaginary first date checklist in your mind that you didn’t even know you had. His hair was all windswept and gorgeous, starting to grow longer down his neck. His face was clean-shaven, blue eyes sparkling as he’d kissed you on the cheek when you’d opened your dorm room door to greet him.

With your hand grasped tightly in his, he’d tugged you to his car. Held the door open for you, helped you inside and he’d even secured your seatbelt for you.

“I’m so excited!” you’d blurted out when he’d got into the driver’s seat. And Steve had smiled, leaned over the console and kissed your forehead, murmuring in agreement. And it had made you swoon, your eyes widening at how forward he was, how comfortable he was with you when this was only the first date.

And then he’d grabbed your chin and looked at you with those intense eyes, “Baby girl, you know what would make this date even better?”

Entranced, you’d asked him: “What?”

His features had hardened for a second, and his grip on your chin tightened all of a sudden too, “You don’t mention Levinson tonight. Or ever again. Not when you’re with me. You got that?”

Your jaw would’ve dropped open had he not been holding your chin so hard. But you’d shaken your head hastily, not wanting to do anything to upset him or ruin your first date, “O-Of course, not, Steve, I wouldn’t, I–”

“I’m serious,” Steve had said softly, and yet he sounded almost threatening, “I hear his name come out of your mouth even once, and I’ll be very angry. Got that?”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“And if I find out you’re dating me just to make him jealous, I won’t be happy. Understood?”

You had swallowed harshly. Was that what you were doing? Oh, you didn’t even know! But you decided to focus entirely on Steve after that.

“I understand.”

And then he’d changed, letting go of your chin and shooting you a winning smile. His demeanour relaxed once more as he’d started up the car, and all the tension in the air dissipated. He began complimenting your dress, your hair, telling you how beautiful you looked and how much fun the two of you would have tonight. His warm hand patted your bare leg, and then it stayed there for the duration of the car ride, making you relax, making it seem as if that moment had never happened.

And that’s how you’d ended up at Steve’s house. And sure, it was a bit strange that you were at Steve’s house for your first date with him. But he’d said something about checking on a few things at home before he took you out. It was a casual date anyways, so you didn’t mind. Plus, he looked so handsome and earnest in his pressed white shirt and navy jacket, how could you ever say no?

“This place is huge,” you can’t help but marvel.

Steve shrugs, “I guess. It’s pretty empty nowadays – my parents are both surgeons and they travel overseas a lot to perform big surgeries. And I live on campus at the frat house, so it’s just my little sister here now. I like to check in on her every now and then.”

Oh, he was so sweet! Nothing like Ari, who was looking worse and worse by comparison. Ari, who never took you out on dates. Who only ever wanted you for sex. Whose love language seemed to only consist of lying to you, and the only times he was ever sweet was when he was manipulating you…

And yet… despite everything, your mind flits back to the way he’d carried you off when Steve’s ball had hit your face. How tenderly he had stroked you and tended to you. How sweetly he’d kissed you, making the butterflies in your tummy grow alive with excitement and nerves.

Stop, stop, stop thinking about Ari!

“So, where are we going for our date?” You ask brightly, letting Steve grab your hand again as he pulls you through a large, carpeted corridor.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Steve says vaguely, “But I thought we could hang here for a while. Do you want anything to drink?”

He leads you into a modern yet grandiose looking front room, with luxurious leather couches and a fireplace and an ornate coffee table that looks more expensive than your whole house back home. There’s also an open plan kitchen, also modern and minimalistic, and Steve drags you over, pulling out a chair and pushing you down by the shoulders to sit at the marble island.

“Water is fine.” You answer politely, not wanting to ruin your appetite before the date itself had even begun. Again, you start to wonder what he has planned for you two… A cute café? A posh restaurant? An aesthetically pleasing diner, even? Your heart somersaults excitedly at all of the potential prospects. The closest you’d ever gotten to a date before this was Ari ordering Nobu to your dorm room and the two of you eating on your bed while you forced him to watch Gossip Girl with you on your laptop…

 “What’re you smiling about, gorgeous?” Steve interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Nothing.”

He shakes his head and gives you another one of his charming, lop-sided smiles, “You sure you want just water? We’ve got some good bottles of wine down in the cellar. Or I could mix you a drink, although I’ll warn you now, I’ve been told I’m a bit too generous when it comes to measuring out the alcohol.”

Your eyes widen – was it a thing to drink before a first date? You didn’t know, since you’d never been on a date in your whole entire life. Would you look dumb if you just stuck to water? Could he tell how much you were currently overthinking things? It’s not like you were against drinking – it’s just that you had done so much of it on the night of the party that you were looking to steer clear. Plus, you wanted to be completely sober for your first date, and–

Steve chuckles, “Okay then, water it is.” He tosses you a bottle of still water and you catch it gratefully. Unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, you watch him as he moves around the kitchen island, settling down on the seat next to you before grabbing your chair and pulling it over till you’re very close to him.

“I’m really happy you said yes to this date, baby girl,” he says in that intense way that he speaks, all up close and his blue eyes sparkling like a crystalline lake where the sun’s hitting it just right. It reminds you of Ari’s eyes, actually – and it was crazy how both Steve and Ari had the exact same shade of blue eyes.

“Oh, uh, I’m happy too,” you say shyly, gulping as he pulls you even closer, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He strokes your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he fingers the lacy hem of your sundress.

“And I love this little dress you’re wearing,” His voice lowers, and your lips part as you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, his face so close to yours. “I love that you wore it for me today, sweetheart. You did wear it for me, didn’t you? Just me?” His grip on your leg hardens slightly, but you’re too busy focusing on his long lashes to even notice.

“Y-Yes, I thought it would look cute for our date,” you breathe, acutely aware of his fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, lifting it up slowly.

Steve smirks, “You do look cute, in your pretty pink dress that you wore just for me.” He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you forward, his eyes hooded and lips hovering over yours. Just an inch away, and your heartrate quickens, and you move closer–

“Steve! I thought I heard you come in!”

You and Steve spring apart when a girl appears in the doorway of the kitchen. But her wide smile is immediately replaced by a look of embarrassment and even fear the moment she sees that you’re there too.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company…” she stutters, backing out of the room.

“Kira, wait, don’t go,” Steve jumps up and grabs the girl’s arm before she can escape, “Come meet my date. Babe, this is my little sister, Kira.”

For some reason, when Steve had mentioned his little sister living here earlier, you’d automatically just assumed there was a pre-teen running around somewhere in the house with a live-in nanny chasing after her. But Kira looks about the same age as you, and she also looks somewhat petrified. Standing there next to her brother, wringing her hands together and barely being able to make eye contact with you.

“Hey, Kira, it’s nice to meet you.” You say pleasantly, and she returns your smile awkwardly for a nanosecond immediately looking back down at her feet, as if she felt embarrassed in her own skin. She’s pretty, with pale skin and blonde hair just like her brother. But Steve was big, assured and confident, whilst Kira looks extremely shy, with a slight build – much smaller than him. Her hair is scraped back in a tight plait down her back, and her glasses were slightly crooked on her face.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, and she looks at you for a second or two, but seems to grow alarmed when you meet her gaze. Quickly, she looks to the floor again, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

“She’s the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Steve says to his sister.

Your heart swells, and you beam up at him, “You’ve been talking about me?”

He gives you a wink, “Of course. You’re practically a household name, sweetheart.”

Kira clears her throat, backing away slowly, “I-I should go, uh, it was nice meeting you–”

“Stay, Kira, please!” Steve says, “We’re leaving in a second anyways, then you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

The poor girl looked extremely awkward, and a part of you feels sorry for her as she stands there quietly, with Steve beaming next to her.

“I like your sweatshirt.” You say after a few seconds of silence.

“Th-Thank you,” Kira answers, glancing down at her front before shooting you another quick, tight-lipped smile. “I – uh – I thrifted it a while back.”

“I love thrifting! I’m new to the city though, so I don’t know any of the good places.”

“Kira could show you around!” Steve suggests. You nod politely. Kira smiles too, but you can tell she still looks mortified. You try not to make it obvious, but you’ve noticed how her hands are shaking as she keeps them clasped in front of her. A part of you can relate – you still get shy and awkward around people you don’t know, too.

Kira starts backing out of the room again, “I – uh – I’m so sorry, I have a report, I–”

“No, please! You’re good!” you say, “It was really nice to meet you!”

“You too,” she answers, before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

A few beats pass before you speak.

“She seems really nice,” you say, taking another sip of water.

Steve nods, looking distracted as he watches after his sister through the glass pane of the door. His smile from earlier is still plastered on his face, but it no longer seems to reach his eyes. The atmosphere, the air itself, suddenly feels heavier, different in a way, and you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

When Steve finally looks at you, he’s got a dark look suddenly shrouding his face. But he smiles nonetheless, grabs your hand and pulls you up to your feet, “Yeah, she’s great. I know she didn’t talk much but that’s only because she tends to get really anxious around people she doesn’t know. But I promise you, she’s a good kid.”

“I totally understand.”

“No really, if you get to know her, she’s a lot of fun. She doesn’t really go out much…” His voice trails off, but you feel him squeeze your hand tighter as he leads you out of the kitchen and into a spacious corridor.

“I get that,” you answer honestly, wondering if you should say anymore or whether it would be overstepping. But Steve still looks distracted, and you want to show him that you’re present and attentive and interested in what he’s telling you – which you are. “Honestly, I get it. Does she have a good group of friends at her college? I know that friends can be–”

“She went to your college.” Steve interrupts you.

 Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “She goes to St. Andrews’? No way, that’s so cool! I don’t think I’ve seen her around but that’s probably ‘cause the campus is so big, but wow, I–”

“No, she used to go there,” he says, stopping in front of what you assume is his bedroom door, and turning to look at you with a peculiar expression. Steve, always so forward with his emotions, but right now his blue eyes gaze at you with a look that’s almost unreadable, and his words come out blunt. “She doesn’t go there anymore. She dropped out.”

Oh.

You can feel his hand clutching yours very tightly, his grip almost crushing. And yet, despite the physical contact, he seems far away. Like he’s lost in his own world, like there’s something brewing inside his head but you can’t seem to read him and figure out what exactly it is. His full lips are pressed into a thin line, and his other hand grips the doorknob tightly for a handful of long seconds before twisting it and pulling you into his room.

“Steve, I…”

He shuts the door before turning to face you once more, and he’s still got that stormy, distant look on his face, a look you’ve never seen before now. It’s almost eery, how quickly his demeanour had changed. Just a minute ago, he was being charming as hell…

But then his face suddenly relaxes, lips twitching into that lop-sided smile of his. The familiarity of it relaxes you too, makes you not fully notice how it still doesn’t reach his eyes as he tugs you into him.

“Why did she drop out?” You breathe.

Steve’s face is so close to yours, his blue eyes blazing and his jaw tensing and untensing almost rhythmically. He sucks in a breath, his charming smile freezing on his face as he looks somewhere beyond your shoulder.

“She just didn’t have the best time there,” his eyes darken, the grip he has on your hand not relenting in the slightest, “There were some people – one person – who just…” He trails off once more, before his gaze suddenly snaps back to you, and he clears his throat, “It was just one of those things where she decided it was best for her to drop out. That was last year, and she’s taking some courses online now.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That must’ve been so tough for her,” you exhale, unaware that you’d been holding your breath in.

He nods, and you watch him closely. His eyes twitch before he smiles once more, pulling you towards his bed, “Yeah, it was.”

He backs up till he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling you on top of him till you’re straddling his lap. Automatically, your arms wind around his neck, and you don’t think you’ve seen a more intense-looking pair of eyes than his in that moment. Neither of you say anything, but his fingers dance up and down your bare legs. Slip up your hips and give them a squeeze, and you bite your lip.

He kisses up your neck, the first few being feather-light before they grow more frenzied. His hand cups your ass through the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze that has you breathing hard.

 Wait, what was happening? Just a second ago he was opening up to you about his sister, and now…?

“Steve, what’re you – ah – wh-what about our date–?”

He’s got a glint in his eye when he looks up from kissing your skin, “I didn’t forget about our date, sweetheart. I just thought we’d take a little detour first.”

Oh. Okay. It’s easy to grow distracted when his kisses on your skin are making the butterflies spiral and flutter in your tummy. You want to melt into his arms, let him kiss you all the rest of the day and all night too. Let him take you on this amazing first date that he’d painstakingly planned for you, and in doing so erase the thought and touch of Ari from your mind completely, till your body forgets about the man you’ve been nonstop thinking about for the past month. Maybe this was it, maybe it was time for something new. Someone new. All Ari ever wanted from you was sex, but Steve? Steve was different.

“I wasn’t – ah, Steve – I have to say, I wasn’t planning on kissing you until the end of the date, definitely not before it,” you giggle, pushing at his chest to try and get a word in as he tugs the strap of your dress aside and trails his lips down your shoulder blade.

You feel him smirk against your skin, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be a gentleman and save our first kiss for the end of the date, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things right now.”

You feel your core thrum with excitement at his words, and you look up to beam at him except he’s too busy pushing your dress down to meet your gaze. The sun shines through the open window, making his hair glisten golden, and you wonder if the sunlight makes his eyes glimmer like that too. But he’s not looking at you.

“Steve,” you push at his shoulder, “Steve, won’t we be late for our date?”

His fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and with ease he unfastens it before looking at you, and his eyes are so dark, “Who’s planning this date, sweetheart? Me or you?”

You giggle nervously, “You, of course. But–”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Y-You, but–”

“No, no buts. We’ll go when I say we’re ready to,” he runs his hand down your bare back through the gap created by the open zipper of your dress, his calloused fingers running over your sensitive skin and making your heart skip a beat. His tone is distracted, and yet there’s a finality and authority to it that makes you listen to him.

Before you can think of a response, he grabs you by the waist and pushes you down on the bed before climbing on top of you. You gulp, a huge part of you so turned on by how in control he is, and yet it’s such a contrast from the easy-going Steve’s you’ve gotten to know today. But at the same time, you get a strange sense of dejavu, as if you’ve been in this situation before with him… But that wasn’t possible at all, was it?

“Stevie, please, my hair and makeup’s gonna get ruined!” You laugh, trying to bat him away as he kisses down your chest, pulling your dress down with him, “I worked really hard on it, you know!”

You wait for him to quip back, say something funny or charming to reassure you and make you feel all warm inside. Like how he’s been doing today ever since he picked you up from your dorm room. But he doesn’t reply at all, too focused on tugging your dress off. It’s crazy, almost as if his personality had completely switched since he’d dragged you from the kitchen into his room. He seems distracted, frenzied, unresponsive almost as he licks and nips at your chest.

And a large part of you wants to give in. You know your panties are soaked through, and it would be so easy to just relinquish control completely, till you did that thing where you went all dumb and submissive. But then… what about the date? You’d been looking forward to finally going out with a guy, really going out instead of just hanging out in a bedroom…

Was that all you were worth?

“Steve! Stevie, c’mon. I don’t wanna wrinkle my dress before our date–”

“Then just take it off,” he yanks at the fabric hard, and you hear a rip.

“My dress!” You cry, but he pins your arms above your head with just one of his hands before you can survey the damage. His face is hovering over yours, so close that his nose brushes against yours, and yet despite the closeness, his eyes look so far away. So dark and far away, even the sunlight from the window doesn’t seem to reach into them.

“Steve, please slow down–”

“C’mon, baby girl. The innocent act is cute but everyone knows you’re not exactly a prude…”

“Huh?”

His kiss swallows you whole, and his lips are so soft, so warm. They mould perfectly against yours, and you momentarily forget everything, your arms winding around his neck as you kiss him back. For a few seconds, it’s magical. It’s different from kissing Ari – but not at all in a bad way. When Ari kissed you, it felt like the whole world stopped moving, like everything came to a halt except him and you. But with Steve, it felt like the world was spinning doubly fast, making you feel light and heady and excited, like you were in the midst of a whirlpool, like Steve was consuming you whole.

But only for those precious few seconds, before he bites down on your lower lip, and you feel a jolt of pain. He ruts against you, his movements rough and animalistic. You make a sound of protest, but it’s drowned out by another loud rip, and you feel your dress coming further undone.

“Hey, stop!” you manage to pull away, the metallic taste of blood invading your tastebuds. You wipe your mouth, heart beating faster than a drum. You look down at your dress – the front of which has been ripped down to your waist, and a horrified feeling spreads through your chest. “M-My dress…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries pressing his lips against yours again but you dodge him.

“It is! H-How am I gonna go on our date if my dress is all ripped?”

Steve blinks, “We’ll figure something out, sweetheart.”

“No, wait! Please… I was looking forward to–”

He cuts you off with another rough kiss, his hands spreading the tear of your dress to expose your bra. He palms your breasts through the lacy material, and you don’t know whether to give in to the pleasure or address the sinking feeling in your chest. You’d gotten all dressed up for him, for this date! And now?

“S-Steve, can we please just stop for a second – ah!”

He pulls the cups of your bra down, his mouth latching on to your nipple. And oh, it feels so good! And yet…

You push him off you, “Please, Steve. Slow it down!”

Steve blinks, his eyes looking so deeply stormy, so dark and far away despite the fact that he’s making direct eye contact with you, “That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

He grips your chin roughly with his thumb and forefinger, “Playing hard to get isn’t really your strong suit, so I don’t get why you’re doing it now. You didn’t do it the night we met.”

He’s back on you once more in a flash, when his words haven’t even properly sunk in. His lips brush past your collarbone, kissing back down to your bare breasts. He circles your nipple with his tongue, grabbing your hands and squeezing them before bringing them up to his abs. Your breath hitches, the feel of his mouth on you… and his body, so hard and masculine and big, it’s got your mind clouding over. You almost forget what he’s just said…

You force out another giggle, although you don’t much feel like laughing anymore. “What do you mean? Look – ah! – please just stop for a second –”

“That’s not what you were saying the night of the party,” Steve mutters against your neck, pushing your hand past his waistband, his grip too strong for you to pull away from. “You clearly didn’t have a problem spreading your legs for me then.”

Your blood runs cold. What did he mean by that?

He gets rougher, biting and sucking on your nipples, manhandling your body till he’s got your legs spread and he’s slotted himself between them. Lewdly, he thrusts his clothed dick against your panty-covered pussy, and you suppress the need to moan. Your entire body’s screaming for you to just lay still and let him do what he’s going, because it feels so fucking good. And yet, once more, your palms press hard against his chest to push him off.

“Steve, stop, I don’t think–”

“Shut up.” He bites down on your nipple harshly and you gasp, continuing to push at him. How had his whole demeanour changed in such a short amount of time? Where was the sweetness and the charm he’d shown you less than half an hour ago?

“Wh-What, Steve, I–”

“You heard me. Don’t act like a nun all of a sudden, not when you let Levinson fuck you in the middle of a party in front of the whole fucking world.”

Your heart drops all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Your blood freezes up, making you go deathly still. You feel like there’s poison in your veins all of a sudden, turning all your insides into black tar. Your hands stop pushing him, dropping to your sides like you’ve forgotten how to use them.

Steve stops too, blinking suddenly as if he’s just woken up, as if he’s just been doused by a bucket of ice water.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that–”

“Get off me.” Your voice sounds oddly thick, and you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Steve doesn’t budge, still on his knees on top of you. He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I said I’m sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me. GET OFF ME!”

He does, regarding you carefully as he stands up beside the bed. Watching as you scramble to your feet, feeling disoriented, confused, hurt, used, upset – oh, and so much else! So he knew about what you’d done with Ari the night of the party… But for him to use it against you? After being so charming and perfect all day? You don’t know what to think anymore as your mind feels like it’s moving a hundred miles per second.

Steve sighs, reaching for your hand, “Baby, I didn’t mean–”

“I’m going home.” You say quietly, fixing your bra back into place before reaching behind you to zip your dress back up. Praying to God that you don’t struggle with the zipper just this once. And by some miracle, you get it zipped up in one go. Not that it does anything to rectify the fact that the front of your dress is torn down the top. Another wave of tears threatens to spill from within you.

Steve’s eyes narrow, “Home? Why?”

You stare at him incredulously before quietly making a beeline towards the doorway, holding the front of your dress together almost pitifully. You need to get out of here, get out before he sees you burst into tears.

Steve grabs your arm before you can get to the door.

“Look, let’s just go on our date. We can talk it out, I just said I didn’t mean to say that.”

You shake your head, “I just want to go home.”

His eyes flash dangerously, and you find your heart beating faster than normal as you shrink back, trying to tug out of his grip but to no avail.

“I fucking apologised.” He says sharply, “I’m taking you out now, so stop trying to leave.”

“You never wanted to go on a date with me.” You say shakily, tears welling in your eyes. And that’s when you realise it, like it’s just dawned on you that all of this… him asking you out, picking you up in his car, acting all sweet, introducing you to his sister… All of it was just so he could get you into his bed.

All men were the same. Ari, Steve, all of them…

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I do want to take you out, so let’s just go.”

Steve tugs hard on your arm, making you cry out in protest. His eye twitches, and he reaches down towards your face as if to tuck your hair behind your ear. But you can’t help but flinch, and then another realisation slowly dawns on you. You’re afraid of him.

You tug with all your might, freeing your arm from his and shaking your head profusely.

“I-I-I need to go home. Just, please. I need to–”

“GODDAMIT, I SAID I WANTED TO TAKE YOU ON THE GODDAMNED DATE.”

There’s a loud crack. You duck in fright, hands covering your face. When you peak through the gaps of your fingers, you see Steve breathing hard. His fist, driven straight through the wall, has created a massive hole and several cracks in the plaster.

Silence. Except for the sound of your heartbeat. You don’t even think you breathe; you’re so paralysed with fear. You watch Steve as he slowly removes his hand from the wall, as he examines his fist with an unreadable expression on his face. He flexes his fingers, and his whole hand looks red – as does his face. His jaw is tensed, almost to the point where it’s vibrating.

And then he looks at you.

“Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes I…” his voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if trying to clear his own thoughts. “Let’s just go on the date, okay? Just let me explain–”

“P-Please, just let me go home,” you beg, and it comes out as a broken, scared whisper. You can’t take your eyes off his fist, or the gaping hole in the wall. You’d seen men punch through walls in movies, but never in real life. Your heart still hadn’t calmed down, and now you’re even more sure you have to leave.

 “Goddamit, why can’t you just listen to me?” He takes a step towards you and you flinch, cowering back once more as if he’s going to hit you next. Instead, he freezes, taking in your expression. He swallows, blinking several times. “Look, let’s just calm down. This doesn’t have to ruin the date, you can borrow something from Kira and I’ll buy you a new dress, alright?”

“I c-can’t, I…” you don’t even know what to say to him. What could you say? That you felt unsafe? Afraid? Not to mention, betrayed and used too? How could he possibly expect you to forget all that and go out with him?

You take a deep breath, tightly holding the top of your torn dress together with one hand. You dart towards the door, hoping to slip out without him catching you. But he’s too quick, and once again takes hold of your elbow just as you exit his room and come out into the hallway. This time, you can’t help the tears as they spill down your face.

Steve’s blue eyes flash once more, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Borrow something from–”

“Let me go, Steve,” you tug once, before growing more panicked and tugging again, harder. “Let me go, let me go, let me go–”

“I’m sorry you feel scared, I didn’t mean for that. Sometimes I get like that – just stop fucking struggling for one second, okay?”

“Steve, let her go.”

Both of you look up to see Kira standing in her doorway across the hall. Steve’s grip loosens momentarily, and you take his distraction as your opening. You break free, hastily making your way down the stairs. You don’t dare look back, focusing on the steps beneath you because the last thing you want to do right now is fall.

“Let her go, Steve. Just… Just sit down.” You can hear Kira say.

“No, she can’t just leave. I need to–”

“Please, Steve. You’re freaking out again. I’m gonna have to call mom and dad if you don’t sit down right now.”

And that’s all you hear, both Steve and Kira’s voices fading as you descend further down the stairs. Through the kitchen, your shoes pitter-pattering over the marble floors of the lobby. The ornate front door is heavy as you pull it open, escaping to the fresh air outside. You don’t dare look back, too scared to see if Steve has followed you or not.

You’re halfway down the porch steps when you hear the door open behind you. You’re about to break into a run lest Steve grab you again, when–

“H-Here.”

It’s Kira. You turn around and she throws you something soft. A pink hoodie. Despite your frazzled, haphazard, frightened state, you can’t help but feel gratitude. You quickly put it on, and it smells sweet – like candy perfume. It solves the problem of your ripped dress, and yet it does nothing to calm your frenzied heart, or stop the tears that drip past your cheeks. You back away from the town-house quickly.

“Thank you, Kira. I need to go, I need to–”

She nods as if she understands, “W-Will you be okay?”

You bite your lip to stop from bursting into full on tears. All you can think right now is that you need to get away. Far, far away. Somewhere quiet where you can think, where you can straighten your thoughts out, somewhere where you’re alone. Away from Steve, away from Ari, away from boys like them, away from everyone.

You leave, hoping she’ll understand. After all, she’d helped you – and it wasn’t her fault that her brother had been so… so…

Oh, you don’t even know what’s just happened! Your speed walk turns into a slow jog before you all but break into a run, only slowing down once you’re off his street. How had he just said all those things to you? How had he known about Ari fucking you at the party? And what did Steve mean by you spreading your legs for him the night you’d met him?

He thinks you’re a slut, you realise. All he ever wanted from you was sex, and you were stupid, stupid, stupid to think this first date was going to be something special. Or anything at all apart from sex.

You feel like crying, screaming, sobbing, pulling your hair out. But you can’t do that here, not while you’re on some random street so close to Steve’s house. Instead, you take a few deep breaths to gather yourself. Wait until you get home, wait until you’re alone in your room, you coach yourself, desperately holding on to the single thread that’s keeping you together right now. When inside you feel all torn – he’d torn up your heart just like he’d torn up your dress.

You call an Uber, luckily only having to wait a minute or two before it arrives. The ride home is silent, you just stare out the window and try your hardest to keep your tears at bay. Oh, why couldn’t you be like those other girls? The ones who could easily find a boyfriend who loved them for them? Boyfriends who liked to hang out, go on dates, cook together? Why did no boy ever want that with you? Were you only ever worth their time when you spread your legs for them?

You feel numb by the time you reach your dorm building. It feels like you’re wading through cement as you forlornly walk inside, not even noticing the familiar car parked outside. You fish your keys out of your purse only to find your door already unlocked. You swing it open, ready to just burst into tears and sob into your pillow and–

“I broke up with her.”

Ari is sitting on the edge of your bed – you’d forgotten he still had a key to your dorm – with a bouquet of pink roses his hand. Pale pink, delicate, tied together with a pink satin ribbon. But you didn’t care, not anymore.

He stands up as you walk in, slowly shutting the door behind you. You hardly register him, your mind still racing with thoughts of: Steve used you; he didn’t really want you. No man could ever really want you. They all just want one thing. They all just–

“I broke up with Sharon,” Ari repeats. “It’s over between me and her. I told her I wanted to be with someone else.”

You still don’t say anything. He may as well be speaking in gibberish.

“Go away,” you say, but it barely comes out as a whisper.

Ari grabs you by the shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling. And he looks so devastatingly handsome, his hair brushed back, wearing a crisp white button-up as if he’s gotten ready just to tell you all this. “You were right, I should’ve done it a long time ago. But who cares, we can be together now.”

“Go away.”

“I told you I’d make you my girlfriend, didn’t I?” He says cockily, thrusting the pink roses into your hands. And yet the bouquet feels like nothing, like you’re holding on to air. Ari doesn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm as he continues, “And now we can do all that shit you always told me you wanted to do. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, in fact we can go right now, we can–”

“Go away.” You say it much louder this time.

He hears you, his brows etching upwards in a frown as he regards you almost suspiciously. As he looks at you, really looks at you, slowly drinking in your shrunken demeanour, your dishevelled hair, the numb look on your face, the dried tears on your cheeks, how your eyes don’t quite meet his.

He squeezes your shoulders before his hands freeze, and you look up to see him staring at the hoodie you’re wearing. You see a flicker in his eyes, but it’s so fleeting it’s almost like you imagined it. He inhales deeply.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, before he grows distracted when his gaze flits over to your dress. Your poor, torn dress. His frown deepens, slowly turning into a snarl, “Who the fuck did this to you?”

You shrug out of his hold, feeling like you’re a million miles away, “Just go away.”

Ari’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tensed up as he surveys you carefully. His hold on your shoulders never loosens.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“Go away.” You feel like a broken record.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ari’s features harden like stone, his fists curling at his sides as he surveys you. “I knew this would… Fuck, I can’t fucking believe–”

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME!? I SAID GO AWAY!”

You erupt like a fucking volcano, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as if you can’t hold them in anymore. But you feel more rage than sadness: rage at him, at Steve, at yourself. You throw the bouquet of pink roses at his chest. Hard. They bounce off him at fall to the ground in a dejected heap. The look of seething anger on Ari’s face is replaced with one of shock, and then concern. But was it even real? Was it ever real when it came to you?

“Just get out of here, Ari!”

“He’s a piece of shit, and I’ll fucking kill him, alright? I promise he’ll never hurt you again.” Ari says it slowly, trying to step closer to you but you immediately push him back. One shove turns into two before you lose it, your tiny fists landing on his chest over and over again.

“I DON’T CARE, OKAY!? I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!”

You scream it at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure everyone in the building heard you, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything anymore. All you want to do is be left alone.

“Hey, hey, stop. Calm down.” Ari grabs your fists in his hands but all you feel is trapped. Like you did back in Steve’s bedroom. Like Ari’s about to administer his sweet manipulations once more so that you end up in bed with him. It was all you were good for after all, wasn’t it?  You jerk away from him, shaking your head fiercely.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Ari looks like he’s at a loss, and yet at the same time he looks livid, “Hey look, you’re okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re okay. Just calm down–”

“Get out!”

You scream it over and over again, till your throat feels hoarse and yet you still don’t stop. You just want him out, want him gone. You push at him again, and then again, and he’s so strong and solid that he doesn’t even budge, and this makes you even more upset. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, but there’s also a softness in his eyes but you don’t know if it’s real or if you even want it to be real anymore.

“Baby, you’re okay. Just calm down, you’re safe now, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He sounds so soft, so kind, so unlike himself. He’s acting, you think to yourself. Acting just like how Steve was acting. He doesn’t really care about you. Neither of them do. You’re the idiot. You’re the fool. You’re the slut.

“GET AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING SCREAM!”

Ari is the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and he never takes orders from you, that much you know. And yet, by some miracle, he backs off. Maybe he sees how broken you look, how there’s nothing he could really do in this moment that wouldn’t just make you angrier, and push him away even more. You also believe there’s a large part of him that wants to genuinely kill Steve – for whatever reason – probably pride – and yet, you don’t care.

And so he does leave, but not before promising once more that he was going to murder Steve Rogers. He says some other things too, but you’re too distraught to even take them in. He tries to touch you again, but you bat him off, screaming even louder. Finally, he just leaves, an unreadable look on his face and his hands still curled into fists, undoubtedly going to find Steve.

And that’s when you collapse to the floor, the tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. You grab the pink roses, and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, you rip them apart. Rip flower from stem, petal from petal, throwing them on the floor with such vitriolic rage and sadness all rolled into one.

Ripped flowers. Ripped dress. Ripped heart.

AHHHHH OMFG OKAY!

I want you guys to know that I literally don't even know if I like this. I do but I also don't... Basically I'm super insecure about it. Nevertheless, please do tell me what you think!!!! ANY SHOCKS?? ANY SURPRISES?!?! OMFGGGG.

I prepared a few questions, although you guys don't have to answer them!! These are just for fun hehehe.

So... whose team are you now on? Team Ari or Team Steve? Hehe.

Why did Steve's mood suddenly change during their date???

IS WANDA A GOOD FRIEND?!?!?!

Any ideas NOW on why Steve and Ari hate each other?? What could it have to do with... I wonder...

ANYWAYS thank you guys so so much for reading! I love you all so so much, please reblog and give me feedback as I live for that and sajdjag IDEK ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

#jock!ari #ari levinson x reader #series #add to masterlist

[cevansswhore]

Alpha!Billy Hargrove X Omega!AFAB!Reader

Summary: It was hard to pretend that everything could just go back to normal once your best friend present as an Alpha and you knew you were doomed to become a Beta. But can one night change it all?

Warnings: SMUT MDNI 18 + Only. Language, talk of eating, bad mother figure, smoking depicted, friends to lovers, slight angst, crying, kissing. Omegaverse themes including: scent, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, mating

A/N: I have never written anything like this before but I love to read Omegaverse (guilty pleasure) please don’t hate me but constructive criticism is always welcome. 🧡💜

Stranger Things Master list

*~*~*~*~*~*

Something about today as you woke up just felt wrong. The sun lit the room through your window, bathing everything in its golden rays. You blink wearily against the light, pulling your baby blue comforter around your shoulders, something deep in your gut is begging to stay, to avoid the day like it and everyone in it didn’t exist; but the yelling from down stairs won’t allow it. So with no other choice you throw the covers to the foot of your bed and shuffle to your closet.

“Well about damn time.” You amble into the kitchen, meet not only with the sour look on your mother’s face but the almost permanent ring of smoke circling her head. Ignoring her you head straight for the fridge. The hinges creak, the small bulb illuminating the nearly empty shelves as you snatch up the brown paper bag.

“Listen, Jerry is taking me out later so I’m not gonna be home, fend for yourself. ” Her scratchy voice irritates you further, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Who? Jerry? Have I met him?

“Okay.” You glance at her briefly, bright pink curlers standing out amongst her greying hair, her attention fixed on the newspaper and Virginia Slims in her hand. The hard lines around her lips have turned her face into a scowl, and you briefly wonder when the last time you saw her smile was.

A horn blares outside in a short pattern, giving you your cue to leave. You force yourself to hurry to the door flinging your pack over your shoulder and shoving your feet into your shoes.

The late summer sun has already started baking the little town, the dew on the grass chilling your ankles as you make your way to the blue Camaro. Music rattles the windows as the driver drums to the beat on the steering wheel. You can faintly make out his head bobbing, blond curls swaying with the movement.

You pull the door open and flop in ungraciously, letting your head fall back against the leather seat with a groan. “Well good morning to you too, sunshine.” Billy laughs from beside you as he starts to reverse out of your drive way, an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips.

“Nothin’ good about it.” You mumble, only loud enough for him to hear over his music.

He glances at you fully, focusing on the bags under your eyes, how your skin is slightly paler than usual. You’re dressed simply in an old black shirt with your favorite jeans, the jeans you almost always wear because you’ve ‘broken them in just right’.

“You feeling okay?” Billy flicks off his music as he peels off down the backroad towards school, the long way.

You let your head lull to the side, managing a small smirk at the fact that you two had unknowingly coordinated your outfits, yet again. Though he fills his shirt out more, the arms tight on his biceps just how he likes, the bottom tucked into his jeans military style. “I don’t know. I just feel… weird.” You make a face, focusing back on the road watching the green trees zip by. The leaves are starting to brown, a result of being at the highest point of summer.

Billy pulls his own face, propping his elbow on the door, he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, twirling it between his fingers. “Weird how? Like sick weird, throw up weird, period weird-.”

You groan again cutting him off, rubbing a hand over your eyes. “Just weird. I just want to go back to bed.”

“Wanna play hooky?” It’s a genuine question and you like the idea of it, a lot, but you shake your head.

“No. It’s the day before break and if they find out you’re skipping again you’ll get a detention.” Billy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue because he knows you’re right.

The rest of the ride is comfortably silent, letting you doze off for a few more precious moments before the engine dying startles you awake. You sit up straighter, running your fingers through your hair as you glance around, suddenly catching Billy’s unwavering stare.

“What’s that smell?”

A look of horror crosses your features, suddenly grabbing your shirt to bring to your nose. “What smell? I smell?”

“No, no, no. like… did you get a new perfume?” You shake your head slowly, watching him try to piece together in his head what it could be. “It smells good, like really good.” But he can’t put his finger on what exactly it is, so he leans closer, sniffing the air around you.

“God you’re weird.” You laugh, smushing his face with your palm as you push him away. You grab your bag as he mutters under his breath, reaching behind the seat for his own. You both step out onto the gravel parking lot, other student milling about making their way towards either the high school or the middle school next door. You start to walk off, expecting Billy to follow only to have your arm tugged back, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, wait.” Billy looms over you slightly, making you crane your neck to keep eye contact. You still weren’t entirely use to that new aspect. “Why don’t you come over tonight? We really haven’t hung out outside of school since…” He trails off, looking at you hopefully and you feel your muscles tighten, prepared to give an excuse.

It’s been months since Billy presented as an Alpha, months since everything between the two of you had suddenly shifted. On top of the ego and hot attitude he already possessed, people suddenly expected more of him, respected him like they hadn’t before. An Alpha in a town run by Betas.

Coming from a family of all Betas, watching your best friend become suddenly so… important made your insides tent with green jealousy. As happy as you wanted to be for him you felt yourself pull away, not wanting to stand in his shadow.

“I don’t-.”

“Look, it’s still me, Y/n. It’s still just Billy. We can grab dinner, watch movies, I’ll even do those stupid mud masks if you want just… just come over.” Please. Billy was never one to beg, but for you he made an exception. He had a soft side he kept behind mean words and cruel actions, and only you were privy to it.

Sighing you glance at the ground, analyzing the different sized rocks and tuffs of grass that managed to grow between them. The yellow dandelions turning their faces to the sky. “Okay… I’ll think about it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

By lunch time you’ve progressively gotten worse, your body on autopilot as you move at a snails pace from class to class. Even most of your teachers have noticed, their honor student with her tired eyes, deciding to keep their questions for the rest of the class as you struggle to keep up. Currently you sit slumped over your food, your head in your hands, eyes closed and focusing on your breathing.

In your head you’re over thinking everything it could be, from the mild to the extreme. The flu to an aneurism, a common cold to a heart attack. Your paranoia latching on and prying deep. It’s only when you feel a presence creep up on you, no his presence, does something in your chest relax, letting your body shake off the unease.

“Hey, dolly.” Billy’s voice is warm and heavy when he drops into the seat beside yours, throwing an arm around your shoulders and dragging you into his side. The smell of his cologne is almost overwhelming, and it’s different, not the usual one he wears or the one you gifted him for his birthday. Pine, and leaves, and rain but something underneath that is entirely him.

“Hey.” You lean into his touch, your muscles relaxing and a soft sigh slipping past your lips. You don’t bother opening your eyes, just pressing your cheek into his chest, breathing him in.

Billy watches you, the soft lines in your face, the curve of your lips. Something in his brain demands to protect, the impulse so raw that it takes him by surprise. He tightens his grip on you, little to your notice.

“Still not feeling good?” You only shake your head in response. “Still thinking about coming over later?”

Yes.

It’s all you have been able to think about. It wasn’t like you had never spent the night with Billy before, either at his place or your own. That wasn’t what was bothering you.

You’d just never been alone with an Alpha. You’ve only meet three in Hawkins, the chief being one of them, and the other two married and mated. You’d heard the rumors that young Alphas were far more aggressive, unable to restrain themselves if their instincts took over, it was preached in every health class.

But what if he’s right? What if you’re just over reacting?

“Yeah, I’ll come over… but only if we go to Bennys tonight.”

Billy chuckles, and it’s a deep noise against your ear. “You drive a hard bargain.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Billy had made good on his promise.

He took you straight from school to the Family Video in town, letting you pick out whatever you wanted with the promise that it wasn’t going to be sad.

Then it was on to the little five and dine, Bennys, the one that has your favorite pancakes and fruit salad. He blared the mix tape you had made months ago, despite your groaning, feeling accomplished when he caught you nodding along.

The house is empty and dark, Billy explaining that Neil had taken Max and Susan off somewhere for the week, as the two of you bring in everything from the car. He flicks on the lights as you drop onto the couch, rubbing your clammy palms against the front of your jeans.

Billy hums softly as he walks around the small living room, setting down the movies and food on the low coffee table. He glances over at you, your face pinched, lip caught between your teeth, and leg bouncing a mile a minute.

“Dolly.” Your eyes snap to his, a little wide at the curt clip of his tone. Billy stops in front of you, holding out his hand, watching as you shakily take it, pulling yourself to your feet.

“I think I should go home, really I just feel-.”

“Weird. I know.” He ducks his head slightly, searching your face with sympathetic eyes, “But we’re gonna get it figured out. I want you to go grab a shirt from my closet, get on something comfortable and come back in here.”

His expression leaves no room for argument, so you do as you’re told. His room is lit only by the small desk lamp, but you know you could find your way around in total darkness. Billy always leaves your favorite shirt in the same place in the closet, the stained grey one that reaches the middle of your thighs and hangs loosely about your frame. Leaving your jeans and shoes pooled by the foot of his bed, you steal a look at yourself in his mirror and cringe. You look as tired as you feel, shoulders slumped, ghostly complexion like you’d never seen the sun before.

You turn away with a disgruntled grunt. When you come back out the living room is dark again, the tv and kitchen light your only guide as you pad across the burnt orange carpet. You step around the couch, avoiding the gym equipment laying against the wall so as to not stub your toes like you are prone to do when you are over.

Billy’s dumped fresh popcorn into a giant blue bowl, a snack he knows you can never resist, as he meets you in the arch way. He smiles down at you as he passes the dish over and turns you back towards the couch. Throw blankets are pulled out over the cushions and the tape is already playing through the advertisements. Your meals are set up on your respective ends of the table and you feel something in your heart tighten painfully.

“See, just like old times.”

And he was right.

The night crept away filled with laughter, food, and cheesy horror movies that had you groaning more than trembling. Half way through the first one you’re both complaining about the terrible quality and laughing at the others jokes. Half way through the second you’re throwing popcorn into the air to see who can catch the most while gossiping about the latest ‘Small Town Scandal’.

By the end of the third you’re curled into Billy’s side, his long legs stretched out in front of him as you struggle to keep your eyes open. He’s warm with his arm tucked around your shoulders, and his heart beat is steady against your ear. It lulls you in and out of sleep as the credits begin to roll.

“Billy…” You whisper, poking him in the side with your finger.

“Hmm?”

“Movie’s over.”

He groans and starts to sit up, helping you with a hand on your back. “Next time I pick the movies.” You both sluggishly move to his room, crawling under the grey covers of his full sized bed.

“Told you.” He mumbles, sleep making his voice deep and gravelly. “Right as rain.” You only give a small grunt though a smile pulls at your lips as you nestle under the covers, surrendering easily to the peaceful sleep that over comes you.

For a few hours at least.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You don’t know exactly how you ended up here, but here you are, curled in on yourself on the cold tile of Billy’s ugly green bathroom going into heat.

A heat you aren’t supposed to be having.

Tears steadily stream over your pink painted cheeks as you hug the side of the bathtub, another burning cramp sending a rush of pain through every nerve in your body.

It’s as if someone has doused you gasoline and struck a match. Your body burns from the inside out with an intensity you’d never felt before, the cramps in your lower stomach hurling you into the fetal position as the continue to seize your body. But above it all was the ache between your thighs. Your sex pulsed and squeezed, fogging your thoughts through the waves of arousal soaking your panties and dripping down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Why is there so much?

You desperately try to think about anything you’ve learned over the years about Omegas and their heats, but all you can focus on is the ache in your body. What good are you as a straight A student if you can’t remember a simple health class?

You groan, pitchy and breathless, trying to muffle the noise by biting into your lip. Subconsciously, you’re praying that something, anything, anyone, would save you from this hell as you sob harder, another cramp slicing through your abdomen.

“Y/n?” Billy’s voice floats through the wooden door and you freeze, even the tremors in your muscles stop momentarily. You don’t dare make a sound, don’t even breath as you wait, hoping it’s your imagination until the white door rattles under his knuckles. “Sweetheart? I’m coming in…”

Your head snaps up, eyes landing on the unlocked brass handle and you nearly slip on the small rug in your efforts to get up. A fresh wave of pain seizes your body with a whine as the door swings open.

The low amber light illuminates him against the dark hallway, his curly hair tussled from sleep, pressed down on one side. He’s only wearing those annoyingly short gym shorts, his bronze skin and large frame on display. His chest is rising and falling quickly, like he’d just ran miles to get here.

Billy had woken to that same scent from earlier pelting his senses, stronger, and all fully feminine. Lavender and vanilla and lilac but earthy and natural and purely his. It covered his sheets and comforter and filled his room. He followed it straight to the bathroom, his wolf guiding him more than himself and now he’s entranced, bewitched even as he stares down at you.

Your cheeks are wet, hair teased like you’d been pulling on it. The shirt you are wearing is soaked with cold sweat, and he can smell your slick, making his mouth water.

A deep rumbling growl escapes from his chest before he can even register it’s happening, pulling a submissive whimper from you as you drop onto the edge of the tub, staring wide eyed like a lost puppy. He takes a step closer and you flinch involuntarily, embarrassed and horrified this was all happening right here, right in front of him as your wrap your arms around your center.

“I… I need to go home, Billy.” Your voice is uneven and octaves higher, your chest constricting with each painful breath as your watery eyes drop away from his smoldering gaze. Billy couches down in front of you on the shaggy bath mat, wrapping a large palm around the back of your calf. He gives the tense muscle a firm squeeze, trying to ground you in anyway he can as you whimper and squirm, his presence worsening the pain.

This is what Alphas do to Omegas, unknowingly spur this heat into overdrive.

Billy takes a steadying breath, licking his lips, and searches your tear streaked face. “You’re in heat, little Omega…” It’s like his words amplify everything by ten and your suddenly teetering on the edge of the tub, your hands flying out for support as a wave of pain makes you cry out.

Your palms land on his chest as you finally drag your gaze to his, his blue irises hooded with that animalistic need, mirroring your own. “I don’t… understand… why?” You pant, his scent intoxicating making you lean in, unable to get enough.

Billy only shakes his head, pressing in closer, spreading your knees around his waist as his hand travels up to your thigh. “You’re presenting, it’s going to be okay.” Billy’s other hand finds your hip, and it takes every last bit of concentration you have to focus on him as your sex pulses with need, demanding attention.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do… it hurts so bad…” Your voice breaks, shaking harshly as your hands slip up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer without a thought because he feels so good, so right against your skin as his width presses your thighs farther apart. Billy doesn’t stop you either, his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your fingers tangling into the hair at the back of his neck. Your scent is over powering at this proximity, his grip tightening on your body to control himself.

He coos lightly, his eyes dropping to your lips, specifically your plump lower one now darkening as a bruise forms in the shape of your teeth. “I know baby, I’m here, I’m going to help you.”

“How?” You croak, the uncertainty in your voice stabbing Billy in the chest.

“You trust me right?” He drops his voice to a whisper, his body flush with your own, hands slowly skimming up your body to rest against your neck. You swallow thickly, before nodding. Billy leans forward, closing off that last little bit of distance with a testing kiss.

Need shoots through you, stronger that ever and you respond hungrily. Your arms slip fully around his neck, sliding off of the tub with a desperate moan. Instinct takes over, your submissiveness showing as you open yourself to him, Billy’s tongue licking into your mouth as the kiss turns more wild.

Billy stands, holding you easily with two large hands cupping your ass, as he turns heading for the door. Your legs wrap around his waist, humming into the kiss as he bumps into a wall, his steps uneven as he makes his way into his bedroom.

You gasp for breath as he lowers you both onto the bed, his weight warm and welcoming. “Pretty Omega, my sweet girl.” His lips tickle your ear as he leans in, his hands fisting the blankets by your head as he starts to leave the bed. You whine loudly, your legs locking around his hips forcefully. Billy chuckles, a deep sound that makes your back bow up. “Gotta let go, let me up honey.”

“Please…” You beg, “Don’t leave me, Alpha.” It is the first time you have ever used his new title, his pounding heart going into double time. He shifts his weight, cupping your face with one hand, as your squirm. You desperately try to rut your hips against his, the feeling of having him so close but not close enough making your chest constrict and your head spin.

Somewhere in the back of your lust addled brain you knows you should be embarrassed, your desperation turning you into someone you’re not. But the new beast prowling under your skin refuses to let that happen. She knows just what she wants and will have it.

“I’m right here baby, but you’ve got to let me help you. You can do that, can’t you?” Billy’s words are laced with a calming purr, thumb swiping carefully over your lips, catching on the bottom one and pulling it down slightly. Only when you nod, your limbs relaxing around him, does he let it go with a soft plop. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t bother with formalities, instead gripping the collar of the old t-shirt in both hands and tugging. He rips the worn material down the center, making you yelp in surprise. He’s more forgiving with your panties, fingers dipping below the elastic as he tugs them down your legs. The pale purple cotton is drenched with your slick, turning the color a dark shade that makes him moan at the sight. Billy tosses them over his shoulder carelessly, fixing his attention on your trembling body laid out before him.

“You’re so wet, just fucking drenched.” You jump and moan as he swipes a finger through your puffy lips, watching as your cunt squeezes around air. He wasn’t lying when he said you were drenched, your slick glistening off of your thighs, slipping down the curve of your ass to his bedsheets. The sight alone is enough to have him throbbing painfully in the confines of his shorts.

He can’t help himself as he starts to play with your pussy, barely dipping his long fingers between your lips before dragging them up to your clit. He circles the bud slowly, watching in awe as you respond so eagerly, head thrown back loud moans filling the space around you. You cry an abundance of pleas, his name mixed with any other words you can manage to string together. Your hips rock to take his fingers deeper each time he circles your opening, face scrunched with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Finally pulling himself away from your body, Billy nearly shreds his shorts in his haste to get rid of them. His cock springs free with a groan, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as his head drops back. It’s pulsing and uncomfortably hard, beads of milky precum roll down his thick shaft, catching in the corse blond hair at the base.

“Look at me, Omega.” His demand washes over you, compelling you the only way and Alpha can, to do as your told. You lift your head, dazed eyes settling on his handsome face. His kiss swollen lips are parted slightly, eyes wild with need as his gaze consumes you. You never felt more exposed and yet safe at the same time.

Then your eyes flicker lower.

You let loss a wavering moan, fingers curling into the covers as you openly stare. Billy smiles, enjoying the way you follow his hand as he wraps it around himself, pumping his shaft slowly. He’s big, bigger than you would of imagined him to be. His fingers barely wrapping around his girth and if you want to be honest with yourself it’s intimidating.

“Billy… I’ve never…” He climbs onto the bed between your thighs, rough hands slipping down your skin, squeezing the supple fat under his fingertips.

“It’s okay, let me take care of you.” Billy leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, distracting kiss. Your eyes fall shut, arms slipping around his shoulders as he slowly aligned himself with your entrance. He presses forward and you gasp against his lips. The thick mushroom head squeezes in with a soft pop, breaching your walls and already making you feel so full and empty all at once.

Billy’s hand makes it’s way down to your thigh, lifting your leg and spreading you open as he drives his hips forward. He moans loudly, pressing his forehead against yours as he stills, a little under halfway inside you. “Takin’ me-fuck- you’re takin’ me so well.”

Your nails are digging into his skin, leaving big red lines in their wake as you try to hold onto something. You’d feel bad under normal circumstances if it didn’t seem like he was enjoying it so much. Billy’s lips find your neck, nuzzling the underside of your jaw, and trailing down to your shoulder. He’s breathing you in between sloppy kisses, your scent somehow sweeter than before.

“Please… please Billy.” Your leg hooks around his hips to encourage him to move and with one finally thrust he bottoms out into your spasming cunt. Your head presses back into the mattress, a low moan rattling out of your chest as the feeling of it all washes over you. You’re stuffed full, his weight bearing down on you, but for the first time in hours you feel a sense of calm settle into your bones. You were made for him, made just for this.

Billy lifts his head, your eyes catching in the dim light, and he gives you a lopsided smile. He pulls nearly completely out before filling you up again. You cry out his name, voice cracking on the syllables.

“That’s right baby, just like that.” Your walls flutter around his cock, his thrusts evening out as he finds his pace. Your hips rock to meet his, soft noises falling from your lips to accompany the harsh moans leaving him. The head of his cock is kissing your cervix, bringing in an entirely different kind of pain with the pleasure.

“Alpha… please… gonna cum!” Your fingers find his hair, tugging harshly as your body shakes harder. Billy slips his hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles against your throbbing clit. You scream as your orgasm washes over your body so quickly it leaves you dizzy, your release gushing and coating his cock.

“Fuuuuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, teeth bared as he fucks you through it. Your cunt trying to milk his own from him as he picks up his pace. You sob loudly, tears rolling down your temples as your hands slip to his sides, urging him not to stop.

“Please… Alpha… I uhh-.”

He slams into you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “You’re so pretty on my cock, I just want to keep you here. Fuck your like this for the rest of my life.” His hand skims up to your abdomen, he presses down ever so slightly and you gasp, hips bucking at the sudden pressure. “This pussy was made just for that wasn’t it? Made just for me.”

Billy pulls out at a maddeningly slow drag, your cunt fighting to keep him in as he rubs along every right spot, making pleasure bloom at the base of your spine and radiate outwards. Only the tip of his cock rests between your folds, anticipation and excitement humming adding to the trembling of your limbs.

“Tell me baby.” Billy mumbles, cupping the back of your neck, squeezing and lifting you up from the mattress slightly. Your eyes lazily slide open, a languid smile spreading across your face that makes him falter. His heart suddenly beats impossibly faster, all of his thoughts flying from his brain except one.

This girl is mine.

“S-so good, ba-baby… d-don’t stop.” You stutter out between chattering teeth, hips rocking up taking him a few centimeters deeper.

Billy growls lowly pushing in all the way before pulling back out, he falls forward, bending you nearly in half as he cages you in. His mouth finds yours, sloppy and clashing teeth as his hips piston against yours, driving himself impossibly deeper as you cry and moan for him.

“You feel so fucking good,” He pants, lips skimming along your cheek, past your slack jaw and to your throat, nuzzling the delicate area where he can see your pulse pounding. “Always knew you’d feel this good.”

“B-Billy… Billy I’m gonna…” With each thrust your orgasm draws closer, pushing you to the limits of your pleasure, head tossed back and toes curling as you cling to him. Your cunt squeezes around him, pulsing rhythmically, letting him know you’re close.

“I’m gonna come Y/n, I’m gonna fuck you full of me and you’re going to take it all, are you? Gonna let me breed you, baby?” Billy isn’t graced with a reply, instead your body draws taught against his as you scream his name. Your orgasm rushes over you, washing any sense from your brain as your hips buck against his, and it’s his undoing.

Billy bottoms out, rope after rope of thick cum spilling into your spasming pussy, his knot swelling and locking you in place as he ruts into you. You can feel each pulse, and twitch, his spend filling you and sedating that insatiable need for the time being. Your body relaxes into his, that smile never leaving your lips.

“My Omega.” He whispers against your skin, teeth dragging and scratching your skin as he fights himself, his wolf demanding to lay its claim. “I need you.” He breaths, sinking his teeth into your flesh.

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time morning seeps in through the blinds, neither of you have slept. Currently your laid out on his chest, the sheet draped over your backside as his seed fills your cunt. Billy’s hand is imbedded in your hair, the other on your hip, gripping you to him as he moans into the air.

It takes several minutes, and by the time his grip slackens there’s a small bulge in your abdomen. You’re blinking lazily, the haze of the night slowly clearing itself from your mind. “Billy?”

“Yes, baby?” His heart beat is evening out, the rhythmic thump seeping into your body.

You swallow, lifting your head and resting your chin on his chest. His eyes are closed, head tilted back relaxed against the pillows. His palm rubs up and down your side, gentle and calm.

Sometime during the night, between lust filled spurts of need, you had felt the mark. Your fingers had traced over the raised indents his teeth had left, several times. The realization that you were mated to your best friend hitting you like a crushing pile of bricks, and yet…

“We’re mated.” You whisper, feeling his chest stutter slightly. He clears his throat, the hand in your hair twitching slightly.

“I should of asked you. I’m sorry.” His voice holds a note of something you can’t place, his eyes are still closed, refusing to look at you. You sit up slowly, his knot still firmly in place, moaning a little at the feeling. That grabs his attention. Billy’s gaze snags on your face, where he finds your softly smile and gentle eyes.

“There are worse people to be mated with, I suppose.” Billy smiles, his hands resting on your hips, his grip firm and comforting.

“Definitely, could of been Danny.” You shudder at the thought of Billy’s little minion of a friend and he laughs loudly. “Come’er.” You happily oblige, kissing him slowly, pouring yourself into him as he does the same. Everything falling into the perfect rhythm.

There are definitely worse ways to find your forever.

#alpha!billy #alpha x omega

[cevansswhore]

bambi eyes masterlist

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!Rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression

18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

SUMMARY: Years after his father's death, Rafe returns to Tannyhill a new man with more power than he could have ever previously imagined. You're the missing piece to him finally feeling like the king of Figure 8, and Rafe acquires you, his Kook princess, in a sinister way. Still, he's determined to give you the perfect life. All you have to do is be a good little girl.

part one

part two

part three

part four: holiday special

part five

#rafe x reader #daddy!kink

[cevansswhore]

*·ﾟ𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Biker!Ari Levinson x naive!reader (biker x baker au)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, size difference, 6’7” Ari, innocent!reader, soft!Ari, possessive behaviour, SMUT - minors DNI, p*ssyjob, size kink, innocence/ruined kink, daddy kink, panty sniffing, (so much) dirty talk, spitting, fingering (f), praise kink, degradation, dumbification, breeding kink, unprotected sex (p in v), squirting, creampie

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your relationship with Ari, he finally indulges in his deepest desires—that are also his biggest-little fears. Based on this ask.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 6.47K

𝗔/𝗡 | hi anon, thank you for being patient with this request, it's my first time writing for ari ! I scrapped the smut last night and rewrote it—this is so filthy, someone needs to shut biker!ari up. All mistakes are my own. [all asks — all drabbles]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Bear, be quiet.” You giggle, crumbling beneath his weight as he leans on you, “Ah! Walk, Ari!”

The big, burly man growls, rubbing his nose on your head. “Mhm, you smell like sugar cream…” His hand drags along the wall as you stumble further down the hall, and he’s hanging off you like a limp sack of muscles and hair.

“I—hold on,” you reach into the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing out his keys. Silver shines in the dim lights, the handmade beaded bracelet hanging from the ring, a carefully chosen pattern of blue, pink and lilac—not purple, lilac is prettier, Ari told you. The gift was too small for his wrist, so he added it to his keys instead.

Although, you wish you thought about sizing before making it because seeing the usually stone-cold and silent biker wearing a cute beaded bracelet would be amusing.

Ari was smooth, observant and worldly-wise, clad in leather and denim, with a chain around his neck and rings on his hands if it were a special occasion. That was how everyone knew him. To you, he was the sharp and collected co-owner of the mechanic shop across the street who never seemed to take his lunch break.

You were kind, sensitive and sincere and started to sneak in bundles of neatly packaged freshly baked goods to leave them on the counter whenever he went into his office. Far too shy and nervous to say a single word to the domineering biker.

This went on for weeks, and you started leaving more treats for the rest of the bikers employed at Fast Lane Mechanics. Ari and his friends were getting spoiled by the little angel from the bakery, filling up on the pastries from The Snickerdoodle.

Then one day, Ari caught you. You got startled and accidentally walked right into the wall during your abrupt escape—the biker proceeded to tuck you into his office until you calmed down.

That was months ago, and you’ve been dating ever since. To be fair, you were very hesitant to say yes because of your lack of experience with relationships. But Ari, ever the gentleman, has worshiped the ground you walk on and your existence—even if it goes unnoticed by you, as most things tend to do.

“Are you going to give me your sugar cream?”

You struggle to unlock his apartment door, oblivious to the growing tent in Ari’s jeans. “Uh…the bake sale is tomorrow, but I don’t mind giving my boyfriend a free treat.”

The door swings open, slamming into the wall as you cringe. Stepping into the dark living room and kicking the door shut, you wobble towards the bedroom. Ari’s chin bumps against the top of your head as he showers you in kisses.

“Wasn’t talkin’ about that cream.”

“Hm?” You look up at him, finally making it to his bedroom and attempting to set him on the bed, but he clings to you. You collapse onto his chest with a squeak, straddling his hips.

“I missed you today, angel,” Ari smirks, dark hair fanning across the sheets like a halo. He easily moves you until you’re seated on his bulge.

Your eyes widen and you gulp nervously, intimidated by the size. “I-I missed you too…”

“I like your new skirt, it‘s cute.” He pinches the flimsy fabric before sliding his hands up your thighs. “I wish I stopped by the bakery today, I could’ve seen you in your little apron and that headband with the bow. Always so fuckin’ adorable in your uniform.”

You giggle and try to push him away, “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome, covered in grease and those work jeans—ah!” You’re flipped over, crushed under his weight. A stream of laughter flows from you as his fingers dig into your sides, your legs and arms flailing as he tickles you relentlessly.

Ari’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freeze and his eyes fall between your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, revealing the cotton panties that cup your mound.

The alcohol in Ari’s system has him thinking with a one-track mind, drunk off the memory of a past date that ended with his cock sliding along your wet cunt. The sweetest moans poured from your lips as he moved you how he wanted with ease. Firmly seating you on his bare length and gripping your thighs, watching your cream coat him.

He remembers smelling you on his beard when he dropped you off at home.

You had requested to take things slow—and it’s been absolutely perfect, Ari didn’t mind that it took over three weeks to kiss, and even longer to do some over-clothes touching.

Although, this was utter torture. Now, Ari must restrain from devouring you like a beast. He’s fingered you and rubbed his dick against your folds, but he’s only ever been inside with the tip and that was after spending a good thirty minutes opening you up.

You’re smaller than him and extremely more delicate than his 6’7” beefy tower of muscle and meat.

Worst of all, you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. Teasing him with your gentle touches and soft-spoken words, your compassion and your body striking him to the core. Nearly begging him to just lift you up and carry you wherever he wants. To hide you away from the rest of the big, wide world.

As Ari’s hand draws closer to your heat, you swiftly escape from under him. With your ass in the air, you crawl off the bed and stand on solid ground again. “You deserve a timeout for that, mister.” You point a finger.

God, he loves you, but he’s not drunk enough to let that slip. You love him too and similarly, you need a drink to get that confidence to say it—you were just too damn shy.

“Hm, how about you just give me a kiss instead?”

Not only are you physically weaker than the biker, but you’re awfully vulnerable to that deep drawl and those light blue eyes, his dominant nature pulls you toward him like a magnet. Ari cups your cheeks, bringing you in an uncoordinated but tender kiss. It goes from gentle pecks to his tongue slipping between your lips. His skilled digits trail up your legs and under your skirt again.

“Bear, you’re so handsy…” You squirm, ignoring the dampness in your panties because there are more pressing matters at hand. As the clock strikes midnight, you know that waking up in the morning will be a pain.

Dropping to your knees, you shiver as his warmth crawls up your arms and he tugs on the collar of your shirt. As you unbuckle his belt and start dragging his pants down, Ari closes his eyes in anticipation, awaiting the bliss that comes with your lips around his cock. Blood rushes through his veins as he remembers the first time you sucked him off, all innocent and nervous—is this okay? You’re so big… I don’t know how I’ll fit you in my mouth.

That ecstasy turns into confusion when he doesn’t feel you rub over his length because that was the first rule he gave you about blowing him. He loved feeling your hand over his clothed cock, almost as much as he loved watching you choke on his fat girth.

And you were always a good girl and a good listener.

Ari sits up, suddenly very sober and aware.

“There,” you lean back on your feet, beaming up at him. So small, delicate between his thick, toned thighs, “now you can sleep all nice and comfy. Jeans aren’t good pyjamas.”

If possible, his heart grows bigger to offer even more affection for you. “I’m going to marry you one day.” Ari flops on his back, his dick shamelessly straining his boxers. “I already told the guys, Curtis and Bucky were arguing about who should be my best man.”

Your eyes fall to the bulge. And unfortunately, you can’t hide from your brain that replays those sinful events like a movie, Ari’s filthy words playing in your ears, his rough hands holding you so tightly. You whimper, subconsciously clenching your thighs before your head snaps up, “You’re drunk, Ari. You don’t mean that.” You’ve only been dating for a few months, too early to meet extended family, let alone, get married.

“Really? Go check my nightstand.”

You shoot up and process his words, then you eagerly start crossing the room but Ari grabs your wrist. He pulls you to stand between his legs, flashing you a knowing smile, “Aw baby, you want to be my wife already?” He chuckles, soft blue eyes gleaming, “There’s no ring—yet. I still haven’t measured your finger.”

Your heart settles as yet echoes in your head, you want to hide away, “Y-You’re so drunk…”

His fellow biker friends had called you when Ari was too intoxicated to get home by himself, they offered to call him a cab, but you were still at the bakery preparing for tomorrow’s bake sale. So, you swung by the bar, pulling up along the row of big shiny bikes as the handsome men hauled your boyfriend into the passenger seat.

To others, Ari was fairly quiet, only speaking when his voice was needed yet he wasn’t shy by any means. More of a silent observer with a searing gaze that could be felt through the skeleton to the soul. Your bones were familiar with that burn, while your inner thighs were still healing from his beard after he ate you out yesterday.

“God, I hate that…”

“Hate what, bear?”

“Your fuckin’ seat—always gotta put it back when I’m drivin’ this tiny bug.”

You giggle, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt. “It’s because you’re a giant.”

Ari sighs to himself, tapping his pen on the desk as last night’s events repeat in his mind. He doesn’t know if he should feel humiliated over his behaviour or frustrated—both sexually and generally—over you.

It wasn’t a ring in his nightstand, it was a key to his apartment, personalized with your favourite colours. He’s relieved you didn’t open the drawer, perhaps it was too early to give you a key to his place, but he adored you so deeply.

He’s dreamt of the things you could potentially do together if you had a key—or, better yet, lived with him—surprising you with breakfast in bed, spending the weekends lounging on the couch or in the kitchen where you’d attempt to teach him recipes. He can imagine ordering-in dinner together only to fill up on flawless baked goods that you’d make, dressed in his clothes with your apron, just like the little angel you are.

Domestic, soft things that he’s never fantasized about in his life.

As always, on the tail of those wishes are his fears. In the grand scheme of things, they’re insignificant and shouldn’t matter, especially since you’ve displayed a fondness for it. Those small concerns wrap around Ari’s mouth and keep him from ravaging you like a wild animal, keeping him from diving headfirst into his deepest desires.

His little fears aren’t things like missing payments, losing the shop or his friends, not even wrecking his prized bike. Those are reasonable worries that could greatly impact his life, but they’re different from his tiny, truly comical concerns. Ari’s ridiculous little fears revolve around you. With you being so much smaller than him, graceful and pure in every sense, his biggest-little fear was hurting delicate you.

Of course, he’d never intentionally harm you—you’re the most gentle bear, Ari—but your size difference was a touchy subject for him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself, one wrong move and he’ll wreak you wherever you stand. And this time, it will go the way in.

Why did you have to be so irresistible?

It’s concerning how hard and fast Ari has fallen for your clumsy and sugary charm. He loves you yet, he feels guilty about tainting you. Colouring your blank pages with his shades of sin in bruises and bite marks, but his sick hunger to ruin you were stronger than that remorse.

He inhales sharply, your voice echoing in his head—that first night, you called him daddy, only to never repeat it, even when you did things. He doesn’t think you noticed either. Daddy, it was a breathy gasp as your juices poured out, covering his thick, heavy cock.

Ari is tempted to leave the shop early just to get off with the thought of you.

You aren’t safe from him. Your innocence, your body and your mind aren’t sheltered from him, and he’s already tarnished the thought of you. In his head, you’re withering on a bed, covered in his saliva and seed, with marks sitting pretty on your softest parts.

It’d be incredibly easy to pick you up and fuck you anywhere, on the desk, against the wall, on his bike. He foggily recalls having you to ride his face after one date—oh no, he talked about your sex life with his friends too, that included voicing all of his pent-up frustration too.

“—No, she definitely wants that.” Bucky sips his beer.

“How do you know that?” Ari huffs, tipsy enough to spill his concerns to his best friends. He doesn’t remember much of what he said, but it was about your size difference and his influence on your purity.

Across the table, Steve agrees. “You can just tell.”

Curtis nods. “It’s when she looks up at you like she’s got other things in mind, and she bites her lip. I’ve seen her stare at your arms, she clenches her thighs and squirms, just waiting for you to pick her up—”

Ari frowns, “—All right, that’s enough.”

Curtis raises his arms, his beanie is drawn low. “I’m just saying… you’re scared of nothing, you should be thankful that she gets off on your size difference too.”

“I know.” Ari elbows him, “stay the hell away, jerk.”

The man scoffs, “I’ve got my eyes set on that one.” He smirks as the beautiful waitress swings by and picks up their glasses for another refill. “Hey baby, you come here often?”

The rest of the bikers groan as the woman chortles, shoving his shoulder. “I work here, you dummy.”

Curtis smirks, bringing his girl in for a quick kiss. “Mhm, and your shift is almost done. I’m staying here for a little longer, but I’ll bring home your favourite take-out.”

“Are you trying to get out of changing the cat litter?”

“I’m trying to love up on my lady, is that a crime?”

The young woman prys his fingers from her hip, “This is still my workplace so keep those hands to yourself.” She turns to Ari, “How’s your girl? I’ve heard folks talking about the bake sale all day.”

He’s about to answer, but Bucky interrupts. “Ari wants to devour her but he’s scared because she’s so small compared to him—”

“—everyone is.”

“—but it’s obvious she wants him to, she just doesn’t know it.”

A grin plays on the waitress’s lips. “Well, this is juicy.”

“We’re trying to make him go for it. You know they’ve only done pussyjobs?”

Ari’s jaw drops as he smacks the back of Curtis’ head, “fuckin’ loudmouth, and that’s not true.”

“Oh, right, sorry—Ari’s only ever fit the tip in.” The other men burst into giggles while Ari whacks Curtis again.

The woman stifles her laughter, ignoring her boyfriend’s curses. “She’s as innocent as they get and trust me, a girl like her doesn’t know unless you spell it out for her. And I’ve seen her with you, Ari, she certainly has the same interests as you.”

Most people look up to the biker because he stands at 6’7”. Although, your size difference runs much deeper than that.

He’s impartial and stern, his voice is loud, clear and commanding, his choice of words is well-thought-out and highly valued. A tall and sturdy stature like a skyscraper, his thick and powerful muscles are well-earned with his consistent gym sessions.

On the other hand, you’re soft-spoken, pristine and shy. Terribly naive with meeting new people and seemingly normal social interactions, including sexual innuendos. Clad in skirts and dresses of pastel shades with knee highs, always smelling sweet with the most adorable smile.

Ari is wide and confident, as deep and intriguing as the sea. He can be as cold as the deepest trenches, harbouring secrets that will never see the light of day. And, you're nothing like that. You don’t have the ability to be cold or bitter, you were made as soft and sweet as the baked goods at The Snickerdoodle. Most importantly, you had the power to turn the strict biker into a pile of flirtatious, sincere adoration and gentle caresses with a single glance.

Ari can’t remember the last time he was this invested in a relationship—or a person.

In the dictionary, there would be a picture of you under the words soft and sinless. And, under smitten, would be a photograph of a lovesick Ari with a bright blush erupting under his beard.

Soon enough, Ari starts working again. Going over the documents on his desk, marking things to bring up with the rest of the guys as the hours fly by. Then, Curtis bursts through the office door with grease on his hands and arms, “Hey, that guy is back.”

Ari’s face twists in confusion, “What?”

“That guy who flirts with your girl.”

The biker stiffens, narrowed gaze set on his friend. If this wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.

Curtis scratches his beard as a suspicion arises about what’s going through Ari’s mind. He decides to add a little more fuel to the fire. “Yeah, he’s been across the street for a while and has snatched up each sample from the bake sale at least twice.”

It happened all too fast for you to process.

First, you’re chatting happily with a regular customer, answering his strangely daft questions between packaging orders for the bake sale. Then, the little bell rings from above the door and heavy footsteps walk up to the counter before a wall of shadows appears.

If you were paying attention, you would’ve seen Ari and the guys push the man out of the way. As they line up along the counter by the display, shoulder to shoulder with threatening glares that send the man rushing out.

“All of it? Are you sure?”

Ari nods, “Steve doesn’t have anything for the party at the community centre—even though he said he would. Plus, the guys and I haven’t had lunch yet.” He plucks a cupcake from a platter, taking a large bite and getting icing in his beard. “Tastes delicious, angel, you bake any maple pecan danishes?”

Still overwhelmed by him buying the entire bakesale stock, you fumble over your words. “Uh-huh… back—they’re in the back.” You answer breathlessly. “Mrs. Martha is going to have a heart attack.”

That wasn’t completely wrong—although it would have been more accurate if you added: “and I.”

Once Ari’s massive order was packaged and divided among the bikers, Mrs. Martha, the owner of the bakery, gave you the rest of the day off. You accepted Ari’s offer of a ride home on his motorcycle and clung to him like a koala until he pulled up to his apartment.

Those events have led to you splayed out on his bed. Clothes in a haphazard trail from the front door to his bedroom, your panties clenched in his fist as he brings them to his nose.

“Bear, I—” you shuffle backwards as he kneels on the mattress, yanking your ankles until you’re flat on your back. Then, he’s on top of you, his heated gaze set on you as your cotton panties hang from between his teeth.

“Hm?” He suckles the gusset, groaning lowly at your taste.

You whimper as his clothed length presses against your heat, snug between your folds as he pulls you closer. “Uh, what’s going on—” You’re cut off by a cry as Ari starts moving, slowly grinding against your cunt.

Instantly, his boxers are soaked with you, it seeps through the fabric to his cock, and releases the desire he’s kept locked behind iron bars. It’s free and starving and making him shameless.

“You’re so good, angel, you know that?” Your panties land on the bed and Ari sinks lower until his lips meet your neck. His beard tickles you between his kisses, “Always so polite—too polite, and so innocent.”

You melt into the sheets, and your legs wrap around his hips as he thrusts against your cunt. He murmurs against your skin in a gravelly tone, “You don’t even notice when a man is flirting with you.”

“Huh?” You gasp.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset with you. I know you can’t think for yourself. Such a sweet, beautiful girl, so neglectful and oblivious—that’s why you need me.” He reaches down, pulling out his throbbing dick and sliding between your creamy petals, he growls at the feeling of your warmth, “Just a dumb baby brain. You need daddy to think for you, huh?”

You don’t have a chance to feel mortified because Ari leans back, slapping the fat tip on your button, sloppily tracing around your hole.

“C’mon, angel, say it. You said it that first night, but you were too cockdrunk to notice. Can’t think when my dick is on your pussy, yeah? Look at us.” He demands, leaning forward so his shaft is on your tummy.

He’s huge and heavy, his balls against your centre as he trails the wet head along your skin, marking you. He’s so big that you’re a little uneasy about the size difference, the head of his length lying on your belly, showing you exactly how deep he can reach inside you. His thumb dips into your mouth, “my stupid baby can’t speak either?”

You nod dumbly and suck on his finger, your mind drifts away as the second's tick by. Ari coos, grabbing your chin and bringing you up, he kisses you messily. Giving in to his darkness, and becoming the beast he was once terrified to be.

As you fall back onto the mattress, your head sinks into the pillows and he spits down where you meet. Watching you carefully, “You’re so pretty, angel.” He groans, swinging your legs over his shoulders, further spreading you open. Grasping his thick base, he rubs the bulbous tip on your folds, coating himself in your slick as lewd noises fill the room.

“You hear that? You’re so wet, just a little mess for daddy. Need me inside your tight pussy, huh? Stretch this little fuckhole, make you mine.”

You clench, you’re at his mercy, cradled in the palm of his rough hands, vulnerable and taken with every word that pours from his lips.

“Want my cock baby? You’ve never let me inside and that’s not very nice, is it?” He’s been starved for far too long and looking down at you whining as his shaft slides through your folds, drenched in your sweetness.

This doesn’t feed Ari’s desire, he needs to be inside you, splitting you open. He has an appetite that will only be suffixed by ruining you.

“Daddy, ah, p-please,” you whine, weakly gripping his built arms. “Want it, please, please.”

“That’s a good girl, using those manners. Now, watch me, baby.” He commands softly, angling your face until your eyes fall to your connected centres. He’s shiny with your juices, his fat tip sitting heavily at your entrance, he inches in and groans appreciatively, “that’s it, fuck, open up for me.” His thumb lands on your clit, applying delicate pressure.

“I-I’m trying, daddy.” You gasp, thighs threatening to close. Falling into a deep abyss of trust and pleasure, “you’re t-too big…can’t—” Your poor cunt couldn’t take the head, you can’t imagine how the rest will fit.

Ari grinds his teeth, he knows he should probably grab some lube to be safe, even though he can’t wait anymore. You were tighter than he imagined. He wants to be careful and not accidentally hurt you, but he does want to see you destroyed, so he tries once more.

Your hole refuses to take him again, and he pulls away—but you latch onto him. “N-No, don’t go, daddy.”

“I need to get lube—”

“Don’t, please… can’t wait anymore.” You beg, lips swollen from his kisses. “Want you so bad, please—”

“Okay, okay,” he shuffles back between your legs, growling at your weepy hole, begging for him. “I’ll stay, but you’ll need to help daddy, okay?”

Your brows furrow, “How?”

Then, he does something that catches you off guard. Slipping fingers into your mouth, forcing you to slobber and gag on the digits like it’s his shaft. If it were possible, Ari gets harder at the sight, his cock throbbing between his thighs as he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“Touch yourself with my fingers, baby. Open that tight cunt for me.”

Hesitantly, you bring his hand to your heat. Softly moaning as you move his hand along your pussy, covering yourself in your saliva and using him. You cry out, slipping one of his thick, long fingers into you, and Ari takes charge once more.

He spits down on your core, scissoring two fingers into you. Taking you apart in a matter of moments, speaking the most filthy words to bring you over the edge. Your lack of experience is evident through your quick release and loud squeals.

Ari manhandles you again, sliding a pillow under your back to prop up your lower half. His shaft returns to your creamy hole, slipping in with ease. “That’s it, take my cock. You’re so little compared to me, sweetheart. I was scared of hurting you.”

You clench as he draws back, then forward again. His thick girth stretches you wide, barely halfway before you cry out. “Daddy! Too big, I can’t—”

“You can, angel.” Ari gently drops your legs, capturing your lips in his. He kisses away that wrinkle in your forehead, distracting you with his tongue until he’s all the way in. He’s balls deep, his pubic hair brushing your nub. “See? My little dumb baby, worried for nothing.”

You never thought you’d be into this, but it’s strumming you just right. Your vision goes blurry as he hits so deep. Ari hooks one of your knees over his shoulder, keeping you trapped under his beefy frame and locked on his girth.

“I’m going to fill you up. Cum in this little cunt, watch it pour out and fuck you again until you can’t take anymore.” He chuckles darkly as you gasp for air, “Even though it seems like you can’t take anymore right now—you're milking my dick already, baby?” He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging the nub with his teeth, groping your other breast.

You’re already so damn sensitive and arch into his touch. “Ah, Ari!”

“Shh,” he releases your tit with a lewd pop, his eyebrows knitted tightly as you clench around him, “don’t open that mouth unless you’re going to call me daddy.”

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” You weep.

“That’s my girl.” He starts pumping slowly, letting you feel every vein along your pulsating walls. From tip to base, he feeds your tight hole. “Taking my dick so good—even fucking yourself with my fingers? So good at doing what you're told.”

You whimper, gnawing on your bottom lip as he speeds up. High-pitched uh’s are pushed from your body with every thrust, the tip of his dick ramming into your cervix. You’re so hot and messy already, a mixture of yours and his saliva, and your slick creating a ring around his fat base.

Ari grunts, eyes flickering between your weepy hole and your blissed-out face, with your eyes rolled back and jaw slack. He can’t decide which is more obscene, especially with the drool hanging out the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the pillow.

He’s just started and he can see every thought flying out of your head, your entire body is too full for anything but him. His guttural groans and wandering hands grip your body, leaving finger-shaped indents in their wake. His big cock spreads you wide, a euphoric burn blooming in your little pussy as your juices spill out. You can barely remember your own name.

He kisses you, it’s soft in contrast to his length spearing you open. His tongue slips into your mouth, massaging yours as he swallows your moans. When he touches your hole, you accidentally bite his lip. Ari hisses, “Ow.”

“...You just t-touched me down there.”

Down there—he almost laughs at your choice of words. So pure, even when he’s fucking you one inch from your life.

“I touched your pussy. My dick has been in your mouth before, I know you can say pussy.” He smirks, tracing over your stretched hole to your clit, rubbing in hard circles as you cry out, trying to push him away. You’re too weak and eventually give up, letting him abuse your tingling button.

“Can’t believe you haven’t let me fuck you yet. You knew I’d ruin you, but that’s what you want, huh?” He pounds into you, your body moving up the bed with the sheer force, “Don’t you feel fucking stupid, baby? Oh, sorry—you’re already stupid, yeah? Say it.”

You gulp and nod, pathetically whimpering. “‘m d-dumb, daddy…”

“Yeah, you are, and so fucking creamy,” Ari growls, sweeping his fingers through your folds, gathering your arousal before slipping it to his mouth. His hips unrelenting, dirty sounds filling the room. The headboard even bangs on the wall. “You want a taste, angel?”

“Ah, I-I don’t know…” Your toes curl as he touches your sensitive cunt, then brings his digits to your face. Your mouth falls open in a moan as he rams into your sweet spot, that familiar electricity streaming through your body.

Ari is tempted to shove your taste down your throat, but he’ll play nice, for now anyway. “You’re close again, huh? Then c’mon, just a little bit of a taste. Don’t you want to be my good girl and cum?” He traces your lips.

You do. You want to be his best girl, his angel.

When you nod, Ari doesn’t waste any time. He leans over you, pelvic bone pressing against your clit as his dick spears deeper. You squirm, full and cockdrunk as he rubs his fingers on your tongue, slapping your thigh when you close your lips.

“Keep your mouth open.” His spit lands on your tongue and he sickly smears your tastebuds with your cream and his saliva. “Now, close it and swallow. That’s a good little girl, so good for daddy.”

Your high strikes so abruptly, you don’t expect it. Your juices squirt out all over Ari’s length and his pelvis. His thickness continues to invade your convulsing walls, almost brutally but you take it, gasping around his fingers as your mind goes foggy.

After one particularly hard thrust into your sore cunt, you gag on his fingers, eyes watering as he touches the back of your throat. “Oh, why the tears, baby? You got to cum and made a stupid mess, what’s wrong?” He taunts.

Still floaty from your orgasm, you attempt to answer, but all you can manage are wet choking noises.

“It’s okay, daddy knows what you need.” He grits his teeth and slaps his dick on your nub, the noises making your face heat before he sinks back in. Swinging your other leg over his shoulder, “Look—that’s because you’re so small for my cock, feel me all in your guts, baby?”

There's a faint bulge appearing in your lower belly every time he drives forward. You can’t help but hide your face, you don’t know why.

It’s probably because his filthiness is destroying you.

“Let me see you,” Ari pulls your hands from your face, interlocking your fingers on either side of your head. The pillow sinks, your quiet gasps flowing into the air, “Don’t you ever hide from me, angel. Ever.”

You obey but avert your eyes to his tensing muscles under his flushed skin. He’s ragged and husky, dark hair dusts over his chest and prominent pecs, trailing down his abs to the neatly trimmed pubic hair. You feel so little as he looms over you, swatting your ass before grabbing your breasts, loud grunts flowing over your mewls.

He could crush you—and why did that turn the both of you on?

He grabs your hips, moving you on his cock like a doll. “Look at that tight pussy taking me, such a good girl. Letting daddy fuck your brains out, ruin this little cunt, you’re a dream, sugar.”

You fist the bedsheets, your mouth falling open as he grinds deeply, a hot feeling building in your stomach.

“You want me to put a baby in you? Get you filled up until you’re leaking and crying like a dumb baby.” Ari grunts, fingers bruising your skin, “Stupid, stupid girl—I don’t even have a condom on, you know that? Yeah, and I bet you love it.”

You do—and you love him, you try to say it but all oxygen is yanked from your chest as realization dawns, you aren’t on contraceptives and he knows that too, because you told him.

Ari works your body, unable to stop thinking of you plump and pregnant with his baby. He wants that, he wants you as long as you’ll have him, and hopefully, it’s forever.

His girth splits you open, reducing you to a submissive mess. “For someone so innocent, you sure want to be knocked up, huh? That’s why you’re dripping down my cock. Want me to put a baby in you—fuck, let everyone see you full of me and my baby. They’ll know you’re mine.”

You’re scared, but not because of the possibility of getting pregnant, but because Ari seems to know all your kinks before you do. As your head bobs roughly, your hands have a mind of their own and land on his abs, pushing him away.

Ari tsks, swatting you away, his stomach tightens, “Don’t do that.” Imagining you carrying his big baby was feeding a different desire, the thought of how full you’d be—he can’t contain himself. “You want this—want my cum in you sweet pussy, want daddy to fill you up, yeah?”

“I-I do. Want your, ah, baby!”

“Then, take my dick, sweetheart and let daddy breed your tiny fuckhole.” His dirty words are draped in a gentle tone. He spits but misses your mouth, it lands on your hot cheek. “What a dumb messy girl.”

You're ruined under him, sweaty and hiccuping moans. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you harder, ramming into your sweet spot. You can't process anything over the squelching noises or the headboard slamming into the wall. He’s so big inside you, but it hurts so good that you never want him to stop.

Your walls are heaven around him, sucking him so tightly he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last. He follows your gaze to your belly, and you squeak when he grabs your hand, pressing your palm to the bulge.

“Feel me right here, baby? You feel daddy’s dick. This little fuckhole could barely take my fingers before, now look at you—taking my cock so good, and begging for my cum.”

You helplessly blubber, struggling to take his thrusts as they get harder, faster.

“You were made for me, huh? And you’re close already?” Ari coos, “mhm, reminds me of our first time, remember that?”

Of course, you do. You’d never forget it. He was passionate and gentle, still dominant yet sweet. Taking you apart with his fingers until you soaked your panties, then he flattened you on the couch, mouthing against your underwear until you nearly cried. Then, he tore the cotton off and pushed his shaft between your folds until he covered your tummy in his seed. Now, he’s finally fucking your tight hole, ruining you for any other man—and your high hits like a wave.

Ari groans, cursing lowly as you squeeze around him, begging for his cum. Without stopping, he lifts your bottom half completely and you squirt all over him, even reaching his heaving chest. Your core suffocates him as he rubs your nub, prolonging your high. “That’s it, fuck, soak me, sweetheart.”

You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t register Ari falling over you. Covering you in his mass, grinding sinfully into your spasming cunt and filling you to the brim. His cum paints your walls white, pumping you full. He claims you, pressing you into the mattress as the air is yanked from your chest.

In utter pleasure, Ari rocks into you with abandon, spurred on by your cries and your nails digging into his shoulders as his pelvis rubs your humming clit. “Give me a baby, angel. That’s it, take daddy’s cum in your little pussy—fucking take it.”

A baby—this man was going to be the death of you in the best way.

His warmth spreads within you, leaking out from around his throbbing girth as his hips slow to a stop. You soften to quiet whimpers, nuzzling into his neck in a daze.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in his bathtub and curled in his lap. The water is soothing, so is the gentle cloth running over your back and shoulders. Only then do you notice Ari is humming, filling the quiet.

“Bear?”

He chuckles deeply, his wet hand cups your head, “Awake now, angel? Are you okay?” His chest vibrates against your face.

“Mhm, tired.” You sink into the comfort, somehow drifting away again. “Never done anything like that…”

“Me too,” He pecks the side of your head, easily turning you around to wash your other side. A silence takes over again, your head lolling to the side as your eyes flutter shut. Ari’s heart swells, those three words on the tip of his tongue. Say it—he tells himself, “You can sleep again, I’ll bring you to bed.”

“Okay, daddy.” You yawn, the water and his presence envelope you. “Good night…”

It’s now or never—well, not never, more like just until you wake up again, but Ari can’t wait another moment. The words spew out of his mouth in one breath. “I love you, angel.”

Your only reply is a quiet, “luh you.”

Ari knows you’re probably delirious. When you gain consciousness in a few hours, you’ll be mortified over your response to his declaration. At least he’ll be there to comfort you and soothe any other worries you have, just like you have for him.

All fears, little and big.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I've always wanted to write a biker au and just had to add some other special characters hehe, also I'm really happy to fill this request for ari.

Thank you for reading ! I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback !!

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[cevansswhore]

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a truck), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, biting/marking, pet names, lot of emotions, enemies to loves, reader has an anxiety attack

word count: 11.1k

a/n: this is one of my halloween stories that i published last year on my ao3, but since i didn't have tumblr at the time, i'm posting them here now that it's spooky season. i think this was one of my first times writing enemies to lovers and i really loved how it turned out. even almost a year later it's still one of my favorite fics i've written, so i hope y'all enjoy!

-

“Are you sure I can’t just wait for you guys outside?” you asked, a whine working its way into your voice despite your best effort to hide your simmering anxiety. You looked at your best friend Yelena and her older sister Natasha with wide, pleading eyes as you stood in line for one of the scariest haunted houses in the state. When they both ignored your puppy dog eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chunky sweater you wore doing little to protect you from the crisp autumn wind blowing through the fields. Kicking the ground with your boot, you tried not to shiver in your short skirt—you’d stupidly forgone tights—but it was a near thing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Yelena promised, knocking her shoulder with yours. Your best friend and her sister had been smarter. Yelena wore black jeans, a cropped t-shirt and a thick yellow flannel jacket to combat the autumn chill, while Nat had on dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green army-style jacket. “I’m sure if you’re really scared, Bucky will hold your hand.” The blonde waggled her eyebrows at you while Nat snickered.

Something fluttered in your stomach at the thought of holding hands with Bucky Barnes—it was ridiculous how the idea still got a reaction out of you, even after all the years you’d known him—but you kept your face blank as Yelena and Nat both watched you closely. You’d never admitted your crush on Bucky to anyone, let alone your best friend. Annoyingly, Yelena could read you too well and she loved to tease you about your infatuation with Nat’s friend. But you still stubbornly refused to admit it.

So although you hoped with all your heart that her suggestion would become a reality, you forced yourself to make a disgusted face, ignoring the flash of triumph in Yelena’s green eyes. “Bucky would rather chop off his arm than hold my hand—he hates me,” you pointed out, reminding your best friend of the biggest reason you knew hoping for anything more with Nat’s friend would be in vain. Unable to talk about Bucky without the sting of disappointment and rejection piercing your heart, and not wanting it to show on your face, you looked around at the crowded area where you waited in line for the haunted house.

You squinted against the afternoon sun, which was high in the sky, washing the fields and orchards and various red wooden buildings in bright light. Thanks to the chilly breeze, it was the perfect autumn day, which meant everyone had had the same thought as you and your friends and decided to spend the day at the fall attraction.

All around you, groups of people milled about, some joining the long line for the haunted house while others walked past the gigantic barn that housed the spooky attraction and continued on to the rest of the farm and its attractions. The haunted house was just one of many at the Barton Family Farm. There was also a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, an apple orchard, a hay ride through the fields, and a petting zoo for the kids. But although Barton’s boasted plenty to do, the haunted house was the farm’s biggest draw—people came from all over the state to go through it. Barton’s haunted house had a reputation for scaring people so badly they needed to be escorted out by staff, there were multiple exits throughout in case people wanted to bail.

Barton’s haunted house was, of course, what attracted your friends, but you were more excited for pumpkin picking and apple cider donuts. Through a lot of pleading and begging, Yelena had managed to talk you into going through the haunted house with her, Nat and Nat’s friends who were set to meet up with you at any moment. Still, you were reluctant.

Another shiver racked your body and you tightened your arms around yourself as you turned back to your friends. “You know I hate haunted houses, why can’t I just meet you guys at the pumpkin patch or something?” you asked again, the whine in your voice more obvious as your anxiety and fear spiked the closer you got to the front of the line.

“Oh no,” a mocking voice said from behind you. “Is the little baby scared of a haunted house?”

You whirled around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes, his ice blue eyes practically sparking with glee at your discomfort. His full lips were curled up into a cruel smirk set into his scruffy, stubbled jaw. Despite yourself, you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. He was just so damn hot, it wasn’t fair that he hated you so much.

Bucky and his best friend Steve Rogers pulled up next to your group and before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted down Bucky’s body. Despite how stubbornly you avoided talking or thinking about your crush on him, you were helpless when he was right in front of you. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the way his chest filled out the gray and blue layered shirts he wore, and how his shoulders looked particularly broad in his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed over his dark wash jeans and dark boots before you remembered yourself, forcing your eyes away from Bucky entirely.

Perhaps it was a little childish, but your way of dealing with Bucky—since Nat was always inviting him, Steve and their other friend Sam Wilson to hang out with her, Yelena, and you—was to ignore him. It had the double benefit of keeping up the appearance that you didn’t have a crush on Bucky, and it seemed to frustrate Bucky to no end. You never understood it. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either. You hated that his contradictory behavior only made you curious to understand him, instead of turning you off.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warned his best friend as he greeted Nat and Yelena with hugs. He wrapped you up in his arms last, your face squished into the cream cable knit sweater he wore over his own broad chest. Steve squeezed you tight, making you wish—not for the first time—that you had a crush on him instead of his grumpy best friend.

“Barnes wouldn’t know how to be nice if it bit him in the ass,” you sneered as you stepped back from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself again to fend off the autumn chill. It felt colder without Steve’s warmth and you tamped down on the sudden wish to have Bucky’s arms wrapped around you to keep you warm.

“You think about my ass a lot, doll?” Bucky snarked, the pet name rolling of his tongue like an insult. His smirk grew into a full-blown grin and his blue eyes heated.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Bucky was flirting with you, but you shoved that idea aside. Bucky didn’t flirt with you. He mocked you and teased you and did seemingly everything he possibly could to make it clear he didn’t like you. So why did you still like him—it was a question your foolish heart didn’t have an answer for. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting, you looked away from Bucky, ignoring him.

“Knock it off,” Steve scolded, smacking Bucky upside the head. Yelena and Natasha laughed as Bucky’s expression collapsed into a frown while you pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and Nat asked Steve where Sam was as you all shuffled forward with the line. Distractedly, you listened as Steve explained Sam had had to help his sister with something. There were only a handful of groups left between your friends and the door; panic crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe. All of a sudden you realized that not only were you about to subject yourself to being terrified by strangers, but Bucky would be there to witness just how easily scared you were. Dread churned with the anxiety in your stomach, creating a nauseating mix.

Turning to your best friend, you tried to keep your voice low as you spoke so no one overheard. “Lena, please,” you begged, using the nickname you’d given her when you were kids so she’d know how serious you were. “Can’t I skip the haunted house?”

Yelena’s face fell. “You promised we’d do this together,” she said, shooting a furtive look over her shoulder at Nat, Steve and Bucky, who were laughing about something. “You know I hate being alone with my sister and her friends—it makes me feel left out.”

“So come with me to get some apple cider instead,” you urged in a vehement whisper, linking your arm with hers so it might look less suspicious that you and Yelena had your heads bent so close together. Not that Nat wasn’t used to you and Yelena whispering together, you were best friends after all.

Shaking her head, Yelena glanced over her shoulder again. “You know Bucky won’t let either of us hear the end of it if we chicken out now,” she argued.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you looked at your best friend. You knew Yelena didn’t care about Bucky’s teasing as much as you did, but you weren’t sure why she was so adamant about you going through the haunted house. 

Natasha’s laugh rang loudly behind you, making Yelena look back at her sister with love clear in her green eyes and you suddenly realized what was going on. Yelena’s hero worship for her older sister was nothing new to you, and you guessed she was more worried about Nat’s teasing than Bucky’s. You’d long dedicated yourself to helping Yelena live up to the pressure she put on herself to be cool enough for Nat. So if that meant putting up with a little haunted house anxiety and being scared, then it was the price you’d pay for your best friend.

With a dramatic sigh, you squeezed Yelena’s arm tighter in yours so you were inseparable. “Fine,” you relented, giving your best friend a weak smile. “But you’re buying me hot apple cider after this.” Yelena shot you a wide grin before she was distracted by Nat linking arms on her other side.

“You ladies ready to get scared?” Natasha asked in a raucous voice, like she was trying to drum up excitement. Yelena whooped loudly while all you could muster was a half-hearted cheer as fear roiled in your stomach. Steve threw a casual arm around Natasha’s shoulders, ruffling Yelena’s blonde hair a little. She ducked away as much as she could without breaking away from her sister, shooting Steve an annoyed look. He didn’t see it though, too busy reading the rules and warnings for the haunted house that were posted next to the door.

“Don’t forget,” Steve said as your group stepped up, ready to be the next ones let into the barn. “If you get too scared, there are emergency exits along the way.” He shot you a look over your friends’ heads and your face heated, shame climbing up your throat. Your shoulders tensed as you looked away from his kind blue eyes, feeling humiliated that everyone knew how scared you were of a haunted house.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky started, the mocking way he said the pet name making it clear he was talking to you.

Before you could stop yourself and ignore whatever he was going to say, you looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were bright and intent on you—probably excited to see what reaction he’d get out of you, you figured. You were determined to give him nothing.

“Just look for the bright red exit signs,” he said in a fake nice voice. “If you need help, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction—that is, of course, if you even make it to the first emergency exit.”

Fighting the instinct to show how much his words hurt you, you turned back forward. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from showing any kind of reaction, even with Bucky unable to see your face. Still, Yelena saw something in your expression.

“Shut up, Bucky,” your best friend snapped, glaring at the man over her shoulder.

Your best friend’s anger lit a fire in your heart and you raised your chin in defiance. You would make it all the way through the haunted house, if only to spite Bucky Barnes and prove to both him and yourself that you could do it. With your newfound courage, you threw a glare at Bucky over your shoulder, but the way he was looking at you took you by surprise.

Bucky’s blue eyes were dark with interest as he took in the determined expression on your face. As you watched, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. The look on his face had something hot and needy sinking deep into your core, but before you could analyze what it was—and rationalize away the way Bucky looked at you in that moment—the worker at the door ushered your group forward.

The man, dressed like a farm worker covered in blood, pulled the door open and Steve stepped in first. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best brave face as you followed your friends—but you held onto Yelena’s arm so tight you wondered if she’d lose circulation in her hand. Fear clawed in your stomach, making your heart beat wildly in your chest, as you stepped over the threshold.

Once Bucky followed you through the door, the worker shut it and you were plunged into darkness. Even with the sun shining brightly just outside the door, the dark antechamber was completely pitch black. You bit your lip against a startled scream, surprised at the loss of light. You felt a hand at your lower back and stiffened before realizing it was Bucky. Based on the warmth radiating just behind your shoulder, you could tell he stood close and, despite how much of an asshole he could be, having him close helped to ease some of the fear and anxiety making your heart batter against your ribcage. 

Ahead of you, Steve must’ve found the door to proceed through the haunted house because it cracked open, letting weak yellow light spill into the antechamber. A moment later, you were tugged along by Yelena and Bucky’s hand fell from your back. Immediately, you missed his solidness and warmth.

The Barton Family Farm’s haunted house had a themed story, something about serial killer farm workers who murder people for trespassing in their fields by luring them into the barn. The story seemed to be an excuse to decorate various areas of the barn as torture chambers, with severed limbs and fake blood decorating every surface. You kept your face mostly buried in Yelena’s shoulder, with only one eye peaking out as people dressed like deranged farm hands jumped out at you and your friends.

When you passed by the first emergency exit sign, the red neon making a blood-drenched scene of a man hacking up a body to feed to his pigs all the eerier, pride eclipsed the anxiety for a moment. But then you moved into the next portion of the haunted house and the fear returned in full force.

You and your friends were forced through a narrow corridor, the wooden walls pushing in on either side and making you feel claustrophobic. To make matters worse, hands reached through holes in the wall, grabbing at you and your friends’ clothes. Your heart pounded in your throat, as you felt cornered, like a mouse caught in a trap just waiting to die. Anxiously, you pushed against Yelena, trying to force your friends to go faster, but in your moment of distraction, a hand grabbed at your skirt, making you scream and push harder. In the back of your head, you knew you were being a little silly. It was a haunted house, but the danger and the fear felt real.

At the end of the tight corridor, you and your friends stumbled into a large room made to look like a normal barn, with stalls along the side. Nothing appeared immediately wrong with it, which made your anxiety spike harder. You backed up, bumping into Bucky. His chest felt solid behind you and for just a moment you reveled in it. Then Steve began leading you and your friends through the room and Yelena tugged you away from Bucky. Fear was making your heart beat wildly, your breath coming in short, desperate pulls as you prepared for another jump scare.

When your group reached the center of the room, five deranged farm hands appeared out of the woodwork, all carrying threatening looking farm instruments as they rushed you and your friends with loud battle cries. You, Yelena and Nat all screamed, and even Steve let out a startled shout, jumping apart when the men ran toward you, breaking up your linked arms like an awful game of red rover.

Your panic took over and you ran to the side, realizing too late you’d maneuvered yourself into one of the fake stalls. Actually cornered, your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You turned to run, and were met by three of the men blocking the entrance of the stall. A panicked shriek fell from your mouth when they stepped toward you in unison, backing you up against the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes and started leaking down your cheeks as panic clawed at your throat, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short, sharp gasps for air, but you felt like you couldn’t get any into your lungs. Your gaze went fuzzy through your tears.

“Hey assholes!” a voice shouted over the taunting and the jeering of the men. Blinking away your tears, you saw Bucky barreling through the line of farm hands, shoving one into another to make room for him to get to you. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?” Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and your arms immediately went around his waist, clinging to him as you wobbled on unsteady legs. Bucky started to lead you out of the stall, but the men tried to block your path. “Get out of my fucking way,” Bucky spat, shooting them a glare so scary they shrank back. 

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body as he led you through the room. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, your breathing still short and panicked. You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, sobbing against his shirt as your whole body shook. You weren’t sure how you even stayed on your feet, but you couldn’t think past the fear and panic and certainty you were going to die.

After a few minutes, Bucky tugged you through a door and you felt cool, fresh air swirl around your shaky legs. The autumn breeze blew through your sweater and made you shiver harder. Your feet stumbled over grass as Bucky pulled you along, but you couldn’t think about where he was leading you. The only thing that registered was your fingers ached and only then did you realize you’d been gripping the lapels of Bucky’s jacket so hard the zipper dug into your palms, leaving marks.

Slowly, you became aware of chatter around you, the sounds of car doors opening and shutting, people talking and laughing. Still, your shoulders shook uncontrollably as anxiety pulsed through your veins and you clung harder to Bucky. He smelled safe, like woodsmoke and something earthy like vetiver. The sounds of the farm and haunted house grew more distant as Bucky kept walking.

Finally, you came to a stop and the sound of a truck door opening next to you pulled your attention away from the way your heart raced in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since the haunted house, you glanced around and found Bucky had brought you to his old red pickup truck. He’d parked in a corner of the lot that bordered a couple cornfields. There weren’t any people around, the other cars’ owners back at the farm having fun.

“Up you go, doll,” Bucky murmured, boosting you up onto the driver’s seat, facing him as he stood next to the truck cab. His brow was creased with concern as he frowned at you. It wasn’t until Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and settled it around your shoulders that you realized you were still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or your anxiety, but you pulled it tighter, relishing the warmth and his smell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Before you could think better of it, you fisted Bucky’s shirt in your hands and pulled him closer, shifting to the edge of the seat and spreading your legs so you could wrap yourself around him. You clung to him tightly as you cried quietly into his shirt.

Bucky tucked your head under his chin and looped his arms around you under his jacket, one hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You’re OK,” he murmured in a low voice that sent warmth curling through your limbs, chasing away the anxiety and adrenaline. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the panic and fear started to drain out of you. Unfortunately, it was replaced by embarrassment as the full extent of the situation hit you like a brick. You hated that Bucky had seen you at your worst—scared to the point of having a panic attack. All over a stupid haunted house.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of humiliation as it washed over you. There was no way Bucky was ever going to let you live this down. And to make it worse, you were still clinging to him like a scared little baby, just like he accused you of being. That reminder was enough to make you desperate to rebuild the walls you’d erected to keep Bucky from seeing you as weak—or worse, as someone who wanted him and his comfort.

As covertly as you could, you wiped at your eyes with your fingers, trying to clear away the mess of makeup your tears had created. Once you’d fixed your face as much as you thought possible, you pulled back from Bucky, a mask of indifference on your face, though it was wobbly at best. Pulling his jacket from your shoulders, you shoved it against his chest, pushing him away so you could put some distance between your bodies.

“Well you must be thrilled,” you said in a prim, sarcastic tone. You kept your gaze fixed on his chin, unable to meet his eyes. He took the jacket from you and tossed it over the back of the truck’s bench seat.

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, though you couldn’t be sure without looking at him fully, which you refused to do. So you just jutted your chin out defensively, staring at the scruff on his jaw.

“I proved you right, Barnes,” you explained meanly. “I’m a little baby who got so scared in the haunted house I had to be escorted out through an emergency exit.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away through the windshield of the truck, blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay. The sun had dropped lower in the sky, painting the cornfield in a golden hue.

“You think that’s what I really think about you?” Bucky demanded in an angry tone, but there was something else in your voice, something you couldn’t name. “Seriously?”

Your frustration grew to a boiling point, enough to give you the courage to finally look at him. His blue eyes were blazing with irritation and, if you weren’t mistaken, hurt. But you pushed that aside because there was no way Bucky could be hurt by your words, you were simply telling the truth. “You literally called me a baby!” you pointed out. “It was the first thing you said to me when you got here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard his head tipped back in annoyance. “You really are going to be the death of me, I swear to fucking god,” he bit out around clenched teeth, his voice harsh.

You let out an indignant screech. “What did I do?” you shot back, meeting his ice blue eyes with your best glare. “Literally what did I ever do to you to make you treat me the way you do?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bucky shoved his hands into his short brown hair, tugging on the strands as he stepped back from the truck and turned away from you like he could barely stand to look at you. He only gave you a momentary reprieve, though, before he whirled back and jabbed an accusing finger in your direction. “You ignore me!” he accused in a restrained shout, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance. “You won’t even look at me unless I’m being mean to you.”

“Are you kidding me!?” you shrieked indignantly, not even bothering to have the same restraint as Bucky. You didn’t care if you drew a crowd, not that it was likely with how far away his truck was parked from the main farm grounds. “You ignored me the first night I met you,” you seethed. “I asked you how you met Nat and you literally grunted and walked away from me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you pressed your lips closed to stop yourself from saying more. It already felt like you’d said too much, which was confirmed by the slack look on Bucky’s face. Horror washed over you as you realized you’d probably just basically told Bucky about your crush. You remembered the night you met, you remembered the exact conversation you’d tried to have with him. He’d have to know how you felt about him after giving away that detail.

In an effort to save face, you let yourself blurt out the first thing you could think to say. “So maybe I ignored you after that, but you deserved it!”

Bucky’s eyes blazed to life as he stepped up to the truck, crowding into your space, his hands resting on the top of the cab as he leaned into you. You wanted to shy away, afraid of your body’s reaction to him being so close—already, you felt a warm thrum in your core and your legs twitched like they wanted to spread for him—but you refused and instead held your ground.

“Fucking hell, that’s what this is about? I wasn’t ignoring you, doll,” Bucky said in a low, harsh voice. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, his stare so captivating you couldn’t look away. “I was fucking tongue-tied because I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between you and Bucky, the tension between you two crackling with energy. Your heart squeezed excitedly in your chest, happy to accept him at his word, but your brain was slower to trust. “What?” you asked in a tight voice as you tried to breathe through your shock and stop yourself from getting too excited.

“You are so fucking pretty you make my head spin,” Bucky said, his hand sliding against your jaw and cupping your chin delicately in his palm. “And if I have to be an asshole to get you to look at me, then I’ll be a fucking asshole,” he explained. His thumb grazed softly over your cheek, his blue eyes reading your expression like you were a language he wished to learn.

It was too much. You and Bucky had known each other for years, you’d been ignoring him at group outings and parties for years, he’d been sniping at you and provoking a reaction out of your for years. You simply couldn’t wrap your mind around the possibility he had feelings for you.

So you settled on a different explanation, one that seemed much more plausible. Righteous anger burned through the delicate hope in your heart, but it felt safer, more comfortable than the scary prospect of having to admit you liked Bucky.

Placing both hands on his chest, you shoved Bucky back and away from you. “Are you seriously messing with me right now?” you demanded accusatorially, already having decided he was. “You’re really such a fucking asshole, Barnes, to stoop this low.”

For a moment, Bucky looked too stunned to speak. He stared at you with a blank look for so long, doubt started to creep in, souring your stomach. But then a fire lit in Bucky’s blue eyes, burning through his icy gaze and threatening to take you down with him in the blaze. Before you could realize what he was doing, he closed the distance you’d created, his hands wrapping around the sides of your face, holding you still as his lips descended on yours.

Bucky brushed a soft kiss against your lips, just ghosting against your mouth before nipping your lower lip in a teasing bite. The sting made you gasp and he took advantage of your parted lips to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing down your moan at the feel of his rough stubble and gentle lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was determined to devour you and was simply starting with your mouth.

Bucky’s kiss was heady and all-consuming, your brain blissfully free of doubt and questions and confusion. All you could feel were Bucky’s soft lips and expert tongue. Everything else fell away as you sank deeper into the kiss, letting yourself melt in his hands. Bucky kissed you like he was tempting you to surrender your soul to him and with the press of his lips, and the slide of his tongue, you were more than willing to risk it all.

When Bucky pulled away, it took you a moment to recover, your eyes blinking open dazedly, eyelashes fluttering. You found Bucky hovering close like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you. His own blue gaze was hooded and a soft happy smile was on his full lips. Slowly, Bucky started to straighten as if wanting to give you space, but you fisted your hands in his shirt collar and tugged him back down, kissing him with the same fervor he’d shown you.

Bucky made a surprised sound that was muffled against your lips, but then he was sinking back into your kiss, his mouth letting you take control. You slid your hands up and into his soft brown hair, arms wrapping around his neck as you held him close, unable to stop yourself from trying to devour him as much as he had you.

As distracted as you were by the kiss, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over your back through your sweater until he reached your ass. His big hands dug into the leather truck seat to grab you firmly and drag you to the edge. Your legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his broad body. Your core met a hard bulge in Bucky’s jeans, drawing a hiccuping gasp from you that made him grin against your lips.

“Believe me now, baby?” Bucky rasped and you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, the mocking lilt of his voice gave away. But though you’d heard Bucky use a mocking tone plenty of times before, there was a warmth in it now, almost a purr. “D’you believe that I’ve wanted you for years?” He rolled his hips against you, pulling a moan from deep inside you at the feel of his jeans-covered length rubbing against your slit through your panties. “D’you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp growl that shot straight to your clit, making heat surge through your body and flood your core.

“I believe you, Bucky,” you said, but deep in your mind you knew it wasn’t the truth—or, at least, the full truth. It’d take longer to really, fully believe him, but you wanted to and that was the first step. So you pushed your doubts and insecurities aside for the moment as he rocked his hips again, making you squirm on the edge of the truck seat, trying to rub against him like a cat in heat. Even through your clothes, he was so hot and hard against your damp, swollen center. It made you dizzy, how much you needed him.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised in a gruff voice, kissing your temple. His hands clutched your ass tighter, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he positioned you just right so he could dig his bulge deeper into your panty-covered slit, pushing between your folds to grind against your clit.

The praise from Bucky’s lips felt so good it made tears prick in your eyes. You never thought you’d hear him say anything so sweet to you, and you loved it so much you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him to say it again. But that was too pathetic, even for you, so instead you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck and tipped your head back, moaning into the truck cab, the sound reverberating through the metal and leather. You humped against Bucky, matching his rhythm, the stimulation making you soak through your panties.

Bucky dug his hands out from under your ass, skating them up your sides and under your sweater, pushing it up until your tits were bared to the chilly autumn air. Your nipples instantly pebbled and Bucky groaned at the sight of them poking through your bra. He bent down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth through the thin lace. When he bit down gently on the sensitive nub, you cried out and rocked harder against his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against your chest, his lips grazing along your skin as he moved to the other nipple. “Grind your sweet little pussy on daddy’s bulge,” Bucky encouraged you in a voice as rough as the gravel under his boots.

Your inner walls clenched at what Bucky called himself and you rolled your head up to look at him through slitted eyes. He caught your gaze as he sucked your tit, letting it pop from his lips so he could grin shamelessly up at you. His blue eyes raked over your face, taking in your reaction to what he’d called himself.

You’d never called anyone you’d hooked up with daddy, but for some reason it felt right with Bucky. You wanted to test it out, see how it’d feel on your lips. Something told you it’d feel dirty in a delicious way. But you bit your lip, still shy around Bucky, still uncertain.

He seemed to read your thoughts on your face, biting your nipple gently and laving it one last time before he dragged his head up to press his forehead against yours, letting your sweater drop back down. He kissed you, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips thrusting against your center. When he pulled back, he was breathing just as heavily as you. “Gotta get you nice and wet so you can take daddy’s cock, right baby?” he asked, his heated blue eyes meeting yours and holding you captive.

More wetness flooded your pussy at his dirty words, and at the way he made you feel safe in his arms. He’d saved you from the haunted house, he’d pined for you just as long as you had. He was proving you could count on him, making up for all those years of being an asshole, you just had to decide to trust him. It didn’t seem like it should be so easy, but you wanted to trust him. So you did.

“Yes, daddy,” you answered in a sweet, breathy voice. You’d been right, it did feel deliciously dirty to call Bucky daddy. The way your tongue and lips formed the word alone felt naughty, sending more heat curling through your already swollen and tingling pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned when you called him daddy, scrunching his eyes shut as his hips stilled. His bulge was pressed so tightly against your core, you swore you could feel him throb in his jeans. “You’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me come in my pants,” he accused, opening his eyes only wide enough to furrow his brow in a half-hearted glare.

You couldn’t help yourself, Bucky just looked so silly, trying and failing to glare at you while he tried not to come—you giggled. The sound was pure and sweet as it tumbled from your lips. A wide, happy grin spread across your face to match the delighted sound.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and his blue eyes rounded as he witnessed you at the happiest he’d ever seen you and, for the first time, it was because of him, not in spite of him. Before your giggle had died completely, Bucky was smothering you with kisses. He peppered them across your lips and your cheek and your nose and your eyelids—any bit of your face he could reach while you tried to bat him away. His treatment only made you giggle more and try to squirm away, but he banded his arms and held you to him.

“Bucky, stop!” you squealed, leaning back to try to escape. He pulled back, breathless as his eyes raked over your face, relaxing when he saw you were just out of breath from giggling. When you opened your eyes, you caught Bucky staring down at you, affection written plainly across his face, etched into the lines of his eyes and the curves of his mouth.

As you both simply sat there, staring at each other, you watched as doubt creeped into Bucky’s expression. “You want this, right?” he asked in a tender, rumbly voice, staring you directly in the eye as he watched for any sign of hesitation.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth. “Bucky,” you started, pausing to gather your courage. With tentative fingers, you brushed his brown hair back from his forehead, eyes focusing on your hand so you wouldn’t have to look at him while you confessed. “I’ve had a crush on you since that first night, I was just too scared to tell anyone—especially you.”

Bucky winced a little when he heard the truth. He knew he’d been an asshole to you for too long to deserve anything less, but he recovered quickly. He ducked down, kissing your sweetly, an apology on his lips. When he pulled away, he voiced the words he should’ve said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you that first night,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your lips when you tried to interrupt him. “And I’m so fucking sorry for being an asshole every day since then.” He sighed against your lips, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get the chance to kiss you, which is why he did it again. “I swear on my fucking life, baby, I’ll never make you feel like anything less than the prettiest girl in the world ever again,” he promised against your lips, sealing it with another kiss.

You kissed him back, matching the vehemence in his words and his lips. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled softly. “Just please, no more haunted houses,” you begged jokingly. You smiled into his skin, dragging your mouth along the scruff of his jaw, feeling it rasp against your swollen lips. You felt the side of Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile, enticing you back to his lips.

“No more haunted houses,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. Bucky’s hands digging under your thighs was your only warning before he used his grip to haul you further into the truck cab, your ass sliding across the bench seat. “But I am going to fuck you in the parking lot of this haunted house,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed up into the truck after you. He pulled the door shut behind him to keep out the autumn chill and the distant sounds of the crowded farm.

“Bucky!” you shrieked as he covered your body with his, pressing you into the worn leather seat of his truck. His smell surrounded you, not just because he pressed close to you but because it was embedded in ever fiber of the truck. It felt like you were being cocooned in Bucky and you didn’t want to leave, but you still felt obligated to protest. “Our friends will be looking for us,” you pointed out, but you sounded half-hearted even to your own ears, especially as you parted your thighs for Bucky to slip between.

He ducked his head, kissing up your neck as his hips settled into the cradle of your thighs. Of their own volition, your knees climbed his sides, shifting until the hard bulge in his jeans pressed directly to your aching core. He chuckled when you let out a breathy moan despite your protest.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you for years,” he murmured in between kisses, tilting your head to the side so he could suck on the skin beneath your ear, drawing another moan from your lips. “Fuck our friends, I can’t wait—I need to be inside you, baby, please,” he mumbled, dragging his lips across your throat so you could feel his need spoken into your skin. It sunk down deep inside you, to your bones, your marrow, convincing you of his desire with every breath.

In response, you rocked your hips up, grinding your heat against his bulge. A broken groan stuttered from Bucky’s lips, making you smile. Your need for him was equally insatiable and you gave up any pretense of protesting when he begged you. “I’m all yours, Bucky, take me,” you whispered, dragging his face to yours and slanting your lips against his in a heated kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please, I need you,” you begged in a desperate voice.

Bucky groaned low in his throat at the sound of you begging. “Such a desperate little slut for daddy, huh baby?” he asked in a sweetly patronizing tone, so much like the way he used to speak to you but so, so different. And when you looked up at him, his face was filled with affection.

Skimming his hand up your thigh, Bucky reached under your skirt, pushing it up so it bunched around your waist. His fingers hooked in your panties, and he pulled them down as you lifted up. He sat up enough to maneuver you in the small space to free one ankle, letting your panties dangle from the other as he undid his jeans and pulled his dick out.

Your eyes were glued to the thick cock Bucky pumped in his hand. He was girthy, with veins decorating the side and leading up to his broad mushroom tip. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, straining for you, precum dripping from the head. Your pussy clenched hard, greedy for Bucky’s cock as you reached for him.

Bucky grinned at the hungry look on your face, pushing you gently back down on the bench seat and pushing your sweater up so he could see your tits. He groped at your soft flesh, tugging on your nipples until your eyes were fluttering closed and moans were falling out of your mouth. Bucky bent over your body, planting a hand on the door above your head so he could hover over you. “Condom?” he asked.

You caught his blue gaze and held it as you shook your head. “No,” you answered firmly. “Want you bare.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky froze for a moment, going so still you could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. “You’re on birth control? You’ve been tested?” he asked in a tight voice like he was forcing the questions out.

You giggled softly, the sound more seductive than cute and you wondered for a brief second where it came from. But then you took stock of Bucky poised above you, his cock so hard in his hand it had turned an angry red color as it leaked from the tip while his eyes and lips were pinched tightly closed. You gave it a long moment before you put him out of his misery—call it a little bit of payback. “I have an IUD, I’ve been tested since my last partner, I’m all good.”

Bucky’s eyes were still pressed shut, but he let out a long breath. “I’ve been tested too—I’m good,” he forced out. When his eyes finally opened, his blue eyes blazed, the intensity of his gaze burning into you, threatening to consume you alive—and you’d happily let it. “Gonna take my cock raw, baby?” His voice was a rasp like the metal grate containing a fire. With his grip on his cock, he slapped the thick head on your clit before rubbing his length between your folds, coating himself with your desire.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of him torturing your pussy. “Yes, daddy,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good thing you’re on birth control, because I’m not fucking pulling out,” he bit out in a harsh tone that sent shivers skating down to your core. His gaze flicked to yours, checking in, and you nodded to let him know you were good with what he was saying and doing. A grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to his cock teasing your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up your tight little cunt with my come,” he promised, nudging your hole with the wide tip of his dick.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, reaching your limit with his teasing. Your hips raised in the air to try to take him into your pussy, but Bucky backed off, sitting back on his haunches. When you reached for him, he moved his hand from the door and threaded his fingers through yours. Placing a kiss to each of your fingers, he stared down at you like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you spread out beneath him.

“I love it when you beg, baby,” he said finally. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” An impish grin pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “But you’ll have to settle for my cock—for now,” he teased, leaning down over you again, pressing your clasped hands against the seat next to your head. With his other hand, he lined his cock up at your entrance and he breathed hard as he teased you just a little bit more. “So wet for me, baby, such a good girl for daddy,” he murmured praises just before he pushed inside.

Bucky let out a long, deep groan as his cock sunk deep into your pussy, feeling your wet heat clutch at his hardness. The stretch of his thick girth stole the breath from your lungs as he slid in to the hilt in one steady thrust. He paused there, giving you both time to adjust. “Fuck,” he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. “More, daddy, please—need you, need more,” you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where you ended and he began. You didn’t know how you could ever get enough of this man. In such a short time, he’d made you feel safe and loved and you felt like you were cracking apart, opening yourself up to him. His sweet words and gentle touches had awoken a ravenous hunger in your heart and you wanted him closer, you wanted to consume him and be consumed in return.

Giving you what you asked for, Bucky pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. “So good, so good, baby, so fucking good for daddy,” he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for you. Your face pressed into Bucky’s neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. “Daddy—daddy, need you, more, please,” you begged, knowing you weren’t making any sense. Your legs locked around his waist, booted feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn’t pull out more than an inch.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Is this what you needed, sweet girl?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck and wrenching you away from where you were sucking hickies into his throat so he could look in your eyes. “Need to be pinned down with daddy’s cock buried balls-deep in your cunt?” He settled his weight almost entirely on top of you, watching as your eyes went hooded with delight, a dazed smile curling your lips. “D’you need daddy to mark you up, baby?” he asked, ducking down and nudging the collar of your sweater to the side so he could suck your skin between his teeth until you were both sure he’d leave a mark. “D’you need daddy to take you, hard and rough and filthy?” he demanded a moment before he sank his teeth into a spot toward the back of your neck right on the edge of your hairline.

A sharp cry fell from your lips as Bucky bit you, but it dissolved into a moan when he pulled back and licked the spot. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Bucky. Your head felt hazy, like you were buzzed, but all you were drunk on was Bucky’s cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck, jesus fuck, that’s it, take it baby, take it,” he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips against yours in tight movements, grinding into your cunt and clit until you were a panting, needy mess beneath him. “Love seeing you fucked out and cock drunk for me, baby,” he huffed as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

All you could do was whimper and nod, trying to keep your eyes open so you could look into Bucky’s blue gaze as he leaned up and looked down at you. He watched as pleasure contorted your face, delighting in the way your jaw dropped open when he hit a particular spot deep inside you.

“Good girl, good girl,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers over your sweaty forehead and dropping down to kiss your lips. He nuzzled his scruff against your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

You understood the feeling. Your fingers gripped Bucky’s hand still laced in yours, the other threading into his soft brown hair while your heels dug into his strong thighs, keeping him locked against your body. If you thought you could endure letting him go, even only for a moment, you would’ve begged him to rip your clothes off so you could feel his skin against yours. But you couldn’t even fathom untangling your bodies in that moment.

“My perfect girl, you feel so good,” Bucky murmured, trailing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, possessively. “Need you to come for me, baby, need you to come on my cock,” he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. “Fuck, I can’t stop, baby, ‘m gonna come.” He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. “Come on daddy’s cock, baby, come for daddy,” Bucky rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge. “That’s it, that’s it, be my good girl, baby, please,” he begged.

The desperation in Bucky’s voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. You clutched his fingers in yours, nails digging into the back of his hand, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into the soft cotton covering Bucky’s shoulder, you muffled a scream into his shirt, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, gonna make daddy come,” he mumbled, his free hand digging between your body and the leather seat to grip your ass.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, daddy,” you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. “Fill me up with your come—need it, need you,” you whined, squirming beneath him.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down to the seat with his hips. “Take it, baby, take my come,” he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. “Good girl,” he panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Bucky collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. “So good for daddy, baby,” he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Bucky’s hair, the short strands soft against your skin, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

After a few minutes of recovering, Bucky sat up and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it while he stared down at you, love and affection burning bright in his blue eyes. “What’re the chances I can convince you to let me take you home now so we can do that again?” he asked, a playful smile curling his lips.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from immediately agreeing. You wanted to spend time with Bucky and get to know him in ways you’d only previously dreamed—not just with more sex, but being able to talk to him without the weight of both your anger and hurt hanging around your necks. But the last you saw your friends, you and Bucky were bailing on the haunted house, and you knew you should check in with them. Plus, you’d been looking forward to all the other autumnal fun Barton’s Family Farm offered and you’d be damned if you left after just the haunted house.

“But I want apple cider and donuts,” you said, pouting up at Bucky, widening your eyes to exaggerate your puppy dog look.

Bucky immediately caved, unable to resist giving you whatever you wanted, especially since it was easily within his power. “I’ll buy you all the apple cider and donuts you want, baby” he promised, ducking down to give you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, though, he had a greedy look in his eye. “But then you’re coming home with me, yeah?”

A grin bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you agreed easily and Bucky gave you an answering smile, like it was a natural reaction to seeing you happy.

As Bucky righted himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up, it occurred to you that you’d never seen him so relaxed, and you didn’t think it had to do with the sex you’d just had. When he looked up, he caught you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. His fingers reached up to smooth over the burgeoning marks on his neck. “Are the hickies too noticeable.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and looped your arms around his neck. “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was looking at,” you said. At his raised eyebrow, you went on. “You’re so handsome,” you said in a fake dreamy voice, a little bit of teasing in your words. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away, just smiled down at you fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He waited you out long enough that what you really wanted to say finally rolled off your tongue. “You’re happy, right?” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion but before he could answer, you continued. “Because I’m happy—this might be the happiest I’ve been in a long time and if you’re going to take me back to our friends and pretend like nothing happened, I need to know now.

A troubled expression was on Bucky’s face by the time you stopped talking. “Hey, no,” he said, when you finished. “I’m happy—I told you I’ve wanted this for years,” he reminded you, ducking his head down so he could look at you face to face. “I’m not gonna be that asshole again to you, ever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours like he could root out all the insecurity and squash it. “If I need to spend the next couple months or years proving that to you, I will, OK?”

Stupid tears welled up in your eyes but you blinked them back and gave Bucky a watery smile, your heart feeling like it could burst you were so happy. Bucky leaned in and kissed the apples of your cheeks, first one then the other, before dipping down to kiss your lips. By the time he was done, your eyes were dry. “Ready to get back out there?” he asked and you nodded.

With gentle hands, Bucky used some napkins from the glovebox to clean you up as well as he could, then helped you fix your clothes. He took you by the hand and led you out of the truck. When you hopped out, you shivered in the autumnal chill, immediately wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the cold. Bucky noticed and reached back into his truck to grab his leather jacket, helping you into it before kissing you once more. You smiled against his lips, grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the farm.

It didn’t take long to find your friends—they were standing near the hot apple cider stand, holding paper cups of the steaming beverage and sharing from a cardboard dish of cider donuts. Yelena was the first to notice you and Bucky walking toward the group, your hands linked and you wearing his jacket. She turned to her older sister, pointing a finger in Natasha’s face as she screeched, “I told you! I told you it would work!” Cinnamon sugar spewed from the blonde’s mouth as she yelled and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off her chin before turning to Steve, who had his hand up for a high five, slapping her palm against his.

The corners of your mouth pulled down into a confused frown. “What’re you talking about Lena?”

But Yelena was too busy executing an elaborate victory dance to respond, so Steve chimed in with an explanation. “Yelena has been determined to make you guys admit you have feelings for each other—”

“That you love each other,” Yelena butted in, finally done with her dance. She passed one of the paper cups she’d been holding over to you and you wrapped both your hands around it, basking in the warmth while Bucky slid behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist. Yelena’s sharp green eyes watched it all.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered shaking his head at his friend’s little sister. “Anyway, she had a plan that we go through the haunted house and you’d get scared and Bucky would swoop in and protect you,” Steve finished. “Nat didn’t think it would work,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” the redhead said, shrugging unapologetically, but her eyes and smile were warm as she too didn’t miss the way Bucky touched you so easily. Your face heated, realizing both your friends had probably already surmised you’d slept with Bucky.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky started slowly, his eyes fixed on his best friend, completely unaware of the knowing looks Yelena and Natasha were giving the two of you. “You deliberately tortured my girl just to prove a point?”

Yelena squealed and looked at you with wide, excited eyes when Bucky called you his girl, almost drowning out the rest of his sentence. You couldn’t help the goofy grin plastered to your face in response, nor did you want to. Yelena raised her eyebrows in silent demand for more information, and you even caught Nat giving you the same look. You shot them both a look that said you’d tell them later.

The boys were completely oblivious of your exchange with your friends. “Well she wasn’t technically your girl yet—even if you’ve had a thing for her for a couple years,” Steve pointed out, his face twisting up like he was fighting to keep the guilt out of his expression.

You felt Bucky tense behind you and craned your neck to look up at him, taking a sip of your drink. He’d tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at Steve, anger simmering in his blue eyes. Even though he was facing off with his own friend, his gaze held more ire than you’d ever seen directed at you. If you thought about it, Bucky had usually had a kind of pained look on his face when he’d said those mean things to you. Sadness swept over you at the thought of all the time you’d wasted being jerks to each other. Unable to hold yourself back, you snuggled into him.

Your movement caught Bucky’s attention and he finally looked away from Steve, his face shifting before your eyes from a glare to an expression filled with affection. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned back to your friends with a much more relaxed look. Reaching out, he plucked a cider donut from the cardboard dish, holding it in front of you until you took it.

You took a big bite of the sweet pastry and groaned in happiness. Against your ass, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and you had to hide your smile behind another bite of donut.

“Semantics,” Bucky said in response to Steve’s comment, a smile on his lips as he watched you eat your donut happily. “Anyway, thanks to you all, I made a promise to my girl and I plan to keep it.”

“What promise?” Yelena asked, curiosity lighting her green eyes as her gaze bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. Your best friend was practically gleeful, but you knew it wasn’t just because she had been right and her plan had worked, you could see in her face that she was happy for you. As you sipped the hot apple cider she’d bought you, you realized you’d already forgiven her for the deception.

“Well actually it was two promises,” Bucky amended. You looked up at him in confusion. “I promised her all the apple cider and no more haunted houses.” Bucky leaned down, your lips bumping clumsily against each other as you both struggled to stop smiling long enough to kiss. But then Bucky’s tongue licked some of the cinnamon sugar from your lips and you had to choke back a moan as he kissed you possessively right there in front of your friends.

“Get a room,” Natasha jeered at the same time Yelena whooped and Steve clapped obnoxiously. You laughed against Bucky’s lips, pulling apart, warmth burning in your cheeks.

That wasn’t the last time your friends teased you and Bucky that night, but you were both too happy to care too much. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether he was wrapping an arm around your shoulders, linking his fingers with yours, or squeezing your butt as discretely as possible, he was always touching you. He kept it up through all the fall activities—the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and another round of apple cider and donuts.

And then at the end of the night, Bucky took you home and showed you again and again how happy you made him. Over the following days and months and years, he proved to that you could trust him to never be mean to get your attention again—and you showed him you’d never ignore him or your feelings for him. Bucky showered you with love and affection until the memories of you ignoring him and him being an asshole to get your attention were replaced entirely with happy ones.

He also kept his promises, taking you back to Barton’s Family Farm every year for all the apple cider and donuts you could eat—but always skipping the haunted house—kissing the sugar and cinnamon from your lips until you let him take you home.

#bucky barnes #daddy!kink #enimes to lovers

[cevansswhore]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

Summary: Steve is the menacing alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every single day. He’s cocky, brash and domineering, and you’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. Ridiculed by him day after day, you’re convinced he hates you. But what happens when Steve finds out you have a boyfriend? Based on this ask and the discussion that followed it.

Warnings: This is a dark story, please read the individual warnings at the beginning/top of each specific chapter.

Chapters:

i. preying on you tonight ii. hunt you down iii. eat you alive iv. just like animals v. ??? (coming soon!)

Drabbles: (note: most of these take place before the events at the end of chapter 3, and most of these contain smut)

steve fucks you before his football game steve hosts a halloween party with you (new!) (popular!) steve + you + phone sex (new!) (popular!) steve takes you to your first ever frat party steve babies you in front of his friends steve is drunk and uncharacteristically sweet steve’s past hookups make you sad steve fucks you while you’re on your period steve has fun while you’re asleep (new!) (popular!) steve spanks you (new!) (popular!) steve is drunk & sweet at a frat party (new!) (popular!) steve gets handsy during a football game (new!) steve teaches you how to play a videogame (new!)

Extras:

The Beast Inside | a prequel from Steve’s point of view. all mini drabbles what if bucky asked for your number? (coming soon!)

#alpha!steve rogers x reader #add to masterlist

[cevansswhore]

size kink with miguel 👀

yes, nonnie, of course.

edit: bro, i'm sorry, this got away from me...

cw: smut (18+), size kink, somnophilia, oral (m-recieving), dry (wet?) humping, the big stretch™️, crying ;-;, finger riding, teasing/edging, free-use (miguel hehe), piv, tummy bulge, overstimulation, cockwarming, uhhh i think that's it???

miguel is so big, he could only slide against your pussy during the first few months of dating you 😵‍💫

you're barely able to take him into your mouth, let alone down your throat, but you still try your best, giving him sweet licks against the sensitive head and sucking him in with a soft moan.

he loves watching you. how everything about you is smaller -- and not because you're smaller, but bc he's just insanely big.

he needed to be the one to stop you from fucking him the first time. you were so desperate to get him inside of you, convincing him with breathy whines that you can take it, you'll be good for him + stretch out as much as he needed.

though he thoroughly prepped you, he could barely push himself into you and as soon as his tip breached your entrance, you cried out and he could barely move.

he had to grit his teeth when he felt how hot and tight you were, almost losing control when you fluttered around him from the intensity of stretch. he slowly pulled out with a heavy groan, eyes blazing red and claws ripping into the mattress next to your head.

he let you pout, whine, and beg for him to try again, but he wouldn't give in. he was too scared of hurting you.

you mewled and writhed in his arms, whining about how you crave being stretched and filled. the only way he could sate you was by plunging two fingers into your cunt, rubbing relentlessly against your g-spot until you're shaking in his hold.

of course, he makes up for his refusal to fuck you.

miguel is a sweet boyfriend: he'll let you grind your naked body over him at any time of the day until you're seeing white and cumming against him, completely soaking his sweatpants as tears spill from your eyes.

he lets you tease him as much as you want, sliding your dripping pussy over his cock until he's unbearably hard and spurting precum all over himself.

he even lets you ride his fingers, letting you take his arm away from whatever he's working on so you can comfortably roll your hips over him and grind your clit against the palm of his hand.

when he finally does fuck you, it's impossible to get him away from you (not that you mind). miguel is mesmerized by how well your smaller body can take him. how you squeeze around him so sweetly, gushing and trembling as he moves against you.

he loves seeing the outline of cock pressing against your tummy, how he can literally see himself move into you as your body struggles to make enough room. he pushes down on it and you get infinitely tighter. his scarlet eyes stares up at your euphoric expression, pretty lips shaped into an O for him as your eyes roll back with pleasure.

miguel, as spider-man, has no refractory period. usually, he'd stop after two or three rounds, but now that he's felt your molten heat over him, the way you shudder around his cock when you cum, he can't get enough.

even when you're filled to the brim with his cum, he still hard inside of you, fucking you harshly until you're dripping everything onto the sheets below you.

<cw: somnophilia>

sometimes you're so exhausted, so delirious with pleasure, that you pass out while he's still rutting into you. the first time it happened he freaked out a little, hoping he didn't push you to far. once you gave him the green light to continue, so turned on by the fact he can fuck you to sleep, he doesn't hesitate to take you all the way.

you regularly wake up with a pleasant soreness between your legs. miguel makes sure to show you extra soft loving in the mornings, cooing about how sweet and pliable you were the night before. sometimes you wake up and he's still inside of you, face cutely nuzzled against the back of your neck.

UM ANYWAY-- 🫠👀

[cevansswhore]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 1.5k Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, smut (monsterf-cking, unprotected piv, so much dirty talk, slight edging, multiple/denied orgasms, begging + praise + daddy kink and I am not sorry) Author's Note ☽☾ Is it cheesy to say that I swear I was possessed when I wrote this? it is? damn... oh well.

Rating ☽☾ E Events ➷ ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 2 - Daddy | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist ☽☾ @allcapsbingo Ｂ１ - Monsterf-cking (June Adoptable) | All Caps Bingo Masterlist

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist

A secret was only a secret if your body didn’t betray you. Luckily for you, you just happened to have an Incubus with centuries worth of tricks of the trade practised and perfected to get information out of anybody as a lover – you didn’t stand a chance.

Feeling the entirety of Bucky’s weight over your back wasn’t the trigger. You were sure of that. 

It wasn’t the insistent rasped praises in your ear of how you were, “Such a good girl, honey, lookatchu,” or the, “Taking me so fuckin’ well, sweet thing,” no. No, surely it wasn’t.

So why in the hell had that phrase slipped through your lips in a moan so sweet that it made Bucky freeze?

The weight over your back shifted, his arms caging you even tighter, and his damned tail twitched on your thigh. “What was that?” His voice was curious, a lilt that revealed he might have, in fact, heard you but wanted to revel in the budding shyness that gripped you tightly, making you squirm. 

You stalled, mouth opening and closing until you settled on, “Nothing.” 

“Okay,” Bucky replied, his hips starting to slowly move in a circling grind. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Relief flooded you as Bucky began to thrust in earnest again – he wasn’t holding it against you; you were safe, a secret kink of yours still under lock and key. 

A loud moan echoed from your parted lips as Bucky shifted slightly, the head of his barbed cock hitting all the right places. “There it is, honey,” he whispered before biting your neck, using it as leverage to thrust harder and faster. 

The pace was brutal and punched the air from your lungs, your hands scrabbling uselessly against the sheets in an effort to ground yourself in the onslaught of sensations – that familiar feeling of floating began to cloud your mind the harder he thrust. 

“Aw, you can’t be going cockdrunk on me already, sweet thing,” Bucky purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You only whimpered. “I know,” he said suddenly – a lightbulb going off above his head, you swore. “Here we go, hang on.”

Bucky’s hands felt hot on your hips, and the drag of them down to your thighs made you shiver. “Bucky, wha–” The sudden movement of your knees being dragged across the sheets felt strange, then a bloom of heat coiled in your cunt as it throbbed around him – somehow, he was deeper. “Oh! God, please!”

“That better, honey, huh?” Bucky asked. You whined and nodded. “Alright, what d’you say? Lemme hear you.”

“Please fuck me!” You moaned, gasping when Bucky’s tail forced itself under you to sit at your clit. “I-I’ve been good; please, I need it, Bucky!”

“So sweet,” Bucky cooed. “You can have it, baby.”

The speed was deliberately slow, each drag of his cock on your walls torturous, and you huffed. Bucky only chuckled and gradually sped up, each thrust perfectly aimed to make you see stars. 

A sharp thrust made you cry out. “Ah! Bucky, don’t stop, don’t stop- I’m so close, please,” you rushed, the precipice of release so fucking close you could cry. 

Bucky was panting into your ear, the grin on his lips brushing against your temple, all while still fucking you into the mattress, when he suddenly stopped just as you started to keen. 

“No! No, no, please! Fuck!” You sobbed, and Bucky only laughed. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” Bucky simpered, shifting over your body again so his hips were flush with your ass. “I want you beggin’ prettier than that, sweet thing. Go on,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck. “Beg for me, honey. You can do it.”

“But–”

“No buts,” Bucky cautioned, the warning sound of a low rumble reverberating deep in his chest. “Do as you’re told, or you won’t get what you want.”

“I need you t-to fuck me, please, Bucky,” you whined. His weight had you pinned to the bed; you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm to get what you wanted, and it made a piteous whimper leave your lips. “I need your cock, please.”

“That’s cute, honey,” Bucky sighed, moving again. “But I know you can do much better than that.”

“Ah- Fuck, okay,” you breathed. While Bucky’s hips moved so slowly, each thrust into your cunt felt like heaven. “I wan’ it so bad- Bucky, please fuck me, use me!”

Bucky moaned quietly, his hips faltering. “Oh, so sweet for me, honey, aren’t’chu?” Words failed you, so you nodded quickly, whimpers coaxing him on. “I want you to call me, sweetheart, lemme hear you.”

Each movement of his hips stoked the flames, and you could feel them coiling and licking up your spine, the heat reaching an inferno – the added pressure of his tail flicking in time with his thrusts only added more fuel to the fire.

“Call me, baby,” Bucky growled, a compelling command that pulled you under the waves of pleasure he was drowning you in. “Tell me who I am, do it for me, c’mon, I know you want to–can feel your cunt tighten every time you think of it.”

“I- Oh, fuck,” you sobbed. Sure, you had felt the pulse every time you imagined calling Bucky that, but… his pace was quickening, and you struggled to keep your head above the waves. “Please, I wanna cum!”

“Say it. Fuckin’ say it, and you can, sweet thing,” Bucky said, his tone dangerous – the exact  same one he used when you knew his eyes were an abyss and his intentions were to absolutely ruin you. 

You whimpered loudly. Your hands moved of their own accord and found Bucky’s, and you gripped them for dear life – you were going to drown if you didn’t give in. 

“Please, please–”

“Please, what?” Bucky snapped, his pace staying the same, driving you closer to that edge. “Say it; I wanna hear you say it.”

Screw it. You took a deep breath that caught on a sob – desperation gripped you so tight, consequences be damned. “Fuck me, daddy! Please!”

A heavy breath left Bucky’s lips and morphed into a loud groan. “Oh, fuck,” he bit out, the force of the words shattering his resolve. “Good girl, such a good girl for daddy, tha’s it.” 

The pace turned punishing. “Bucky!” A low growl was your answer, and you shuddered, “Daddy! Daddy, please, I’m gonna–”

“You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” The question only made you clench down, trapping him in your cunt until he shoved his length deeper with a grunt. You nodded and scratched at his hands, desperate to hold something. Bucky cooed softly and flicked his tail faster. 

Your mouth became lax around gasps for air – you were so close. “Mhm, mhm, gonna be good,” you whined. 

“Atta girl,” Bucky said, his voice deep and raspy, like he was struggling to control himself. “Daddy’s gotchu, let go for me, give it to me–be good for daddy and let go, sweet thing.”

It started slow – spreading from nerve to nerve like a wildfire that burst into an all encompassing flame that burned through the last of your reserves. “Tha’s it, fuck, you’re forcin’ daddy out, baby,” Bucky groaned. “Give it to me, c’mon, let daddy feel you cum.”

A scream tore from your throat as he thrusted, deeper and slower, and you came – harder than ever before. The waves thrashed against you, and you fell into the current, letting the pleasure take you away for just a moment and revelling in the feeling of floating.

Harsh pants sounded in your ear. “Cum for me, daddy,” you moaned once you gained control of your tongue, then a sudden heat bloomed in your cunt, and Bucky moaned loudly, his hips moving in circles as he ground his cock deep into you. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky huffed, still gasping for breath as he came down. The barbs began locking him in place, and you whimpered at the feel of them. “Shh, breathe for me, sweetheart.” 

A single hit against that spot sent you spiralling again. “Such a good girl,” Bucky whispered while you moaned weakly. He began kissing behind your ear while he thrust shallowly to prolong your second orgasm. “Did so good for daddy–so proud of you.”

Silence filled the room while you caught your breath, grateful for Bucky staying seated inside you – the bravery was still coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but feel greedy. 

“That was something else,” you said finally, smiling widely.

“I’ll say,” Bucky laughed, hugging you tight. “Why didn’t you tell me–my honey having a daddy kink, huh? I coulda helped you realise it much sooner, baby.”

“I was shy about it,” you mumbled, and you attempted to hide your face, but Bucky stopped you with a sigh, his hand moving to brush your cheek. 

“No need to be shy with me, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, kissing your cheek sweetly. “What else is my baby hidin’, huh?” He moved so he was looming over you and ground his hips down into yours again. You went to answer, to deny answering his question, when he smirked wickedly – those fangs on display and that damned tongue wetting his lips. 

“Don’t you worry, sweet thing,” he purred, lowering himself so his nose brushed against your temple and his lips brushed the side of your head. The breath left your lungs like he had stolen it. “Daddy’ll find out.”

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[cevansswhore]

➧ 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐨𝐲: 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | beefy frat!rugby player!Ari Levinson x nerd!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT - minors DNI, size difference: 6’8!Ari, big big boy!Ari, dirty talk, daddy kink, dumbification, hint of dacryphilia, major size kink, wet and messy, dry humping-to-panty fuck (?)-to-unprotected sex (pussyjob), spitting, praise kink, degradation, finger sucking, squirting, lots of cum.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Ari is your best distraction, and he knows it.  

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.84K

𝗔/𝗡 |  hi besties, here’s the winning prompt from this poll, I also voted for this one hehe. be warned, i’m going into my big boy lover era. there’s no masterlist for this au, everything is under #thick frat boy ari and drabbles are linked on my polls drabble masterlist (linked below). as always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you enjoy !!

˗ˏˋ𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Truthfully, you should’ve never invited him into your dorm. You promised yourself to dedicate the day to only studying, you were going to bury your nose in textbooks, review lectures, and catch up on deadlines without any distractions. 

But then he wouldn’t stop texting you:

I miss you. When can I see you?

Do you not love me anymore :( 

This was your first serious relationship, so you were still getting the hang of it and fell for his adorable selfie, his lips in a deep pout as he held one of your plushies against his face (you didn’t know he took it). 

I guess Mr. London and I will just spend the day alone… and die of boredom if we’re lucky. 

He was your favourite distraction and you were so pathetically weak to his charms and sweet smile. And you loved seeing him with your plushies too! How could you not let him in when he brought you lunch and your favourite sweets from the bakery in the city?

Those current gifts sat forgotten on your desk, alongside your books and laptop. So much for studying today…

“That’s my good girl, come for daddy again. Make a stupid mess for me.”

His previous load seeps through your panties, smeared by the underside of his cock as your second orgasm topples over. You cry out his name and scratch his tummy, your juices spurting out and adding to the shameful mess between your thighs. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so good, cub.” He groans, feeling your squirt coat his length, dripping down to his balls and inner thighs. “Wasn’t I right? My little nerd needed a break—and look at that fucking face,” his fingers dig into your cheeks, “you needed this more than me.” 

Still riding on your high, your mouth drops open and he knows what you want. “Daddy can’t spit into your mouth when you’re up there, dummy.” He chuckles when you fall onto his chest and squirm as if you’re trying to crawl into his skin—and you kind of are. 

You weep into his hairy pecs, drooling on him. You always got dumb like this with Ari, it was inevitable. “Closer, please.”

“Hush, cub, daddy’s right here.” 

“Want you closer—” You nuzzle his warm chest, but it still isn’t enough. 

He stifles a laugh, “this is as close as I’m gonna get without being inside you.” Your bottom lip wobbles and he coos, “awh, you wanna be squished, baby? Is that it? You wanna get really close?” 

Feeling his weight on top of you was so comforting, you’ve never felt safer than when he was nearly crushing you flat. It made the rest of the world a little quieter, your thoughts silenced by his slow breaths and beating heart. You have yet to find another favourite position than the intimate squishing. 

“Pretty please, daddy.” 

He can’t deny you when you ask so nicely. He rolls over so you’re under him and lowers until there isn’t a sliver of air between your bodies. With your thighs around his waist, his head tucks into the crook of your neck and he rocks steadily, the veiny underside of his cock dragging along your ruined panties. 

You can still breathe but not without it sounding wispy, and your day has become more than perfect. 

He’s so thorough, murmuring soft praises in your ear while he grinds your most sensitive parts together. Tip to balls then back again, making you feel every inch of him. He lingers with his sack against your cunt, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“Feel so fucking good, cub, you’re doing so good for me.”  

You feel his thick tip between your tummies, thick and hot, and so long that you briefly wonder how it even fits inside you. 

“This what you wanted, baby?” He grunts over the squeaks of the tiny dorm bed. “Wanna be crushed under me? Helpless and trapped. You can’t get me off even if you tried.” 

You only nod, ankles locked around his waist while your fingers tangle in his hair and tug. His thrusts get harder, fully squishing you into the thin mattress as your plushies fall to the ground. You usually cared about that, but Ari takes over your entire mind with his body, his warmth, and his words. Whimpers escape your throat between the mindless kisses and suckles you plant on his skin.  

“One of these days, I’m gonna crush you.” He scoffs, his lips ghosting your ear. “But you don’t fucking care, huh? You love this shit.” He sits up, your arms falling to your sides as he shoves a poor stuffie under your ass, propping you up. 

He pulls your panties to the side, meanly slapping his tip on your button. “Look at us. Look how much smaller you are than me. Remember when this little cunt could barely take a few fingers? I had you crying with just two.” He spits where you meet, the dollop of saliva lands on your clit before he smears it down your slit. His fat tip traces between your sloppy folds and gently prods at your entrance. “Now you could take me balls deep—no more just the tip excuses.” 

He talks about it like he hates it when it was really one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. He barely controlled himself when you braced yourself on his chest, moaning with his fingers in your mouth as you weakly bounced on his dick. Only the bulbous tip wetly popping in and out because that’s all that you could take, even when he spent so long working you open.

He loved to just play with you, trace your pretty pussy, make you cry from all his teasing, kiss you all over and watch your juices leak down your ass. He could spend hours between your legs—and he has. 

“I-Inside! Please, daddy!” 

“Daddy can’t fuck you now, cub, you’ve still got studying to do.” He jerks his cock, your shared juices making the skin slick and smooth, “You wanna watch me come? Want another load on your little pussy?” His hair falls over his forehead as he groans, dragging his thumb over his leaky slit.

You can tell he’s close from his strained voice and the short hitch in his breath, it was one of your favourite sounds in the world. “Please, daddy, want you to come on me. Wa-Wanna feel it.” 

His fistpumps up and down his length while he traces the head through your clothed folds, eventually sliding under your panties to keep his cock against you. “These are cute,” he snaps the pink band on your hips, the ditsy polka dot design stretched around his thickness, “it’s a shame they’re already a damn mess.” 

His musky smell envelopes you like a spell, and before you know it, he’s bringing you impossibly closer to another high. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of his drippy tip as it peeks from the waistband of your underwear. He’s so big, too big, the wet fabric clings to his skin with every slow rock. His girth is painted an angry red that matches his flushed chest. His skin is sprinkled with faint scratches and bite marks, a light sheen covers his taut muscles under his dark body hair. 

The sharp contrast is a little embarrassing but in the best way possible. This mountain of a man, burly and toned in all the right places, doing this filthy act in your tiny dorm room littered with pastels and soft things. He’s in your panties, your messy cotton panties and prying your lips apart to spit into your mouth. 

You almost forgot about the plushie under your ass, undoubtedly stained with your arousal. 

He falls forward, one hand locks around the headboard and the other grips your chin. Those same fingers that were around his dick slide deep into your wide-opened mouth and rub his saliva along your tongue. “Yeah, you like how we taste? Who am I kidding, you love sucking my balls after I fuck you, you’d choke yourself on them if given the chance, dirty girl.”

Your breath deepens and the tightness in your stomach builds, every cell in your body erupting into flames. It’s more intense than your first and you can’t stop the tears springing from your eyes. You choke out his name and weakly push at his lower abs.

“No, no, you’re gonna come for me again.” His thrusts turn unrelentless and he filthily grinds along your sensitive cunt, bullying your puffy clit and nuzzling his heavy sack against your hole. “You’re gonna cream your panties like a good girl. Like my best girl, yeah? That’s it, squirt all over daddy’s cock.” 

He watches it all—the twitches that burst into full-blown shivers, your eyes roll back while your pretty face contorts in pleasure, and he’s never seen anything more perfect. He stores it in his memory, filing it away with the feeling of your orgasm spurting all over his length, marking him with your essence in the most obscene way. You cry out when he doesn’t stop. He’d feel bad if he didn’t know you loved when he grew more hungry for his own relief. 

Oversensitive and ruined beyond salvation, you want to give up, lie there, and take everything he has to offer but you refuse. Heat creeps up your chest to your cheeks at the lewd sound of your messy centres, and you reach down to press him close, stroking his girth over your panties as he fucks your folds. 

His body shudders, a quiet whimper flutters from his bitten lips, “f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum—don’t stop, baby.” His balls tense and his hips jerk wildly, shoving you a few inches up the bed until your head brushes the headboard. He groans loudly and it’s probably audible through the thin dorm walls, but you don’t care. You grip him tighter as his thick seed shoots out from his fat tip and warmly coats your tummy. 

As he comes down from his high, you can’t resist gently tracing his pulsating cock, barely brushing the head with your thumb. 

Ari curses and pushes away your hand, “fucking minx.” He carefully pulls out from your panties, cautious about his tenderness and sits up with a long breath, cheeks flushed a cherry red. His blue eyes widen, “Well, shit. Sorry ‘bout that, cub.” 

You look down and see his cum all over your stomach. There’s a lot, more than you’ve ever seen, it would definitely spill from the corners of your lips if he were in your mouth. But the amount isn’t what concerns you, it’s where it is. 

“My sweater!” You pout at the poor cropped knit garment marked with your boyfriend, “I loved this sweater…” 

“I’ll buy you another one. And some new panties.” He promises and drops down to kiss you, not caring about his cum that now covered his stomach too, “but since it’s already ruined, might as well keep going. Unless you wanna be a boring nerd and continue studying?” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sometimes I think about the absolute filth I write and post on the internet for forever. then I get embarrassed, and you know what I do? I get even sluttier and share more filth. and what you do ?? you ENCOURAGE ME !! that's why we're all besties. love you. also pls send thots about this ari !!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! stay tuned for more big boy!Ari bc I love him.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 —  ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[cevansswhore]

Aight I neeeeed more size kink stuff with ghost, I don’t have a specific idea in mind I’m just pathetic

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader words: 751 warnings: SMUT [thigh riding, size difference/kink, simon gives off some dom vibes here]

a/n: ain't gonna lie to y'all, i listened to some audio this morning and dude was talking about thigh riding, so that's the only thing on my mind rn. enjoy

[masterlist]

Simon cages you in with his arms, and you blink up at him, breathing heavily. A sly little smirk appears on your face, but he pretends not to see it.

Or, instead, he ignores it to focus on something else.

There has always been something inside of him that reacts when he notices just how small you are to him, mostly in height. He towers over you easily, even more so when you kneel for him.

He thinks he might break you one day, but you’ve proven yourself tougher than some may think. You can handle him. And even when you can’t, you never want him to stop.

“What’s so funny, little girl?” he finally asks, and bite your lip. Without a word, you reach up and put your hands on his forearms. You don’t even try to wrap your hands around them because he knows you can’t, but just seeing how small your hands are compared to his forearms has him taking a deep breath beneath his balaclava.

“Nothing,” you tell him innocently.

“Hm,” he grunts, moving one hand and bringing it to your cheek. He could cover your entire face with one hand and your neck, well, his hand fit as well as any necklace.

He drags his thumb along your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You take it eagerly, biting down gently.

“You like when I make you feel small, love?” he asks, slowly pumping his thumb in and out of your mouth. “Nah…” He pulls his thumb out in favor of slipping two of his fingers in your mouth.

You make a small sound, and he chuckles.

“Too much?” he asks. He slowly slides his thigh between your legs.

“Mm mm,” you mumbled around his fingers, shaking your head.

“Nothing’s too much for my girl, is it?” He presses his thigh up against your crotch. He takes his fingers from your mouth and then uses his hands to pin your hands against the wall as he rubs his thigh against you even harder.

“Look at that. Look how I can use just one of my hands to pin your wrists.” He moves one hand away to show you. “God…the size of you…,” he groans.

“Simon,” you whimper.

“Go on…” He has you on your tiptoes from pressing his thigh between your legs. “Use me. No hands, though.” He glances up at your wrists stuck under his hand.

You grind your pussy against his thick thigh and close your eyes. Simon uses his free hand to grab your face, and you open your eyes.

“Eyes stay on me, love.” He presses his forehead to yours, eyes boring into yours.

“K-Kiss me,” you whine. He moves in, but only the material of his balaclava touches your lips. You can almost make out the shape of his lips through the fabric, so you kiss back reluctantly.

“I’ll give you a proper one once you finish,” he says before looking down at you struggling to move along his thigh. He lets go of your wrists, and your arms fall limply to your sides.

Suddenly, he grabs your hips and, with an almost painful grip, begins to slide you back and forth on his thigh.

“I can move you however I want, can’t I?”

You nod, pouting slightly as the pleasure overwhelms you.

“Aw, is someone not getting her way?” he teases, sliding you back and forth faster. Your toes are barely touching the floor now. Your body starts to tense as you feel the orgasm washing over you. You grab his arms to keep yourself steady, which only eggs him on. Your small fingers dig into the skin of his arms as you cry out for him, your thighs trembling against his.

You rest your head against his chest weakly. The only thing keeping you upright is his thigh and his hands at your hips.

“Good girl,” he says sweetly. He finally pulls the balaclava up and off and kisses you.

“That…was so…unfair,” you say between kisses and catching your breath.

“How do you think it feels when you tease me, hm?” He smiles against your lips when you roll your eyes. As a warning, he presses his thigh between your legs.

You hiss. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Fuck!”

“Down you get.” He pats your ass as he stands up straight and lets your feet touch the floor again. “Can you stand?” he teases.

“Fuck you, Simon.”

“I was hoping that would happen next,” he says, and you both chuckle.