the firehouse bay is completely dead at two in the morning, the only sound being the low hum of the massive truck engines and the heavy air conditioning. you’re wandering around the concrete floor, your bare feet silent as you look for rafe’s crew locker. you had thrown on a tiny white cotton sundress in a total blur of excitement, completely focused on sneaking into the station to surprise him on his night shift. you were in such a frantic rush to slip out of the house and get to him as fast as possible that you completely skipped your underwear drawer without even realizing it. it was entirely unintentional, but standing under the dim bay lights, the cool draft hitting your bare skin makes you realize exactly how exposed you are for him.
you’re leaning against the side of a massive red engine trying to see your reflection in the polished chrome when a pair of heavy, calloused hands suddenly grip your waist from behind.
"what the hell are you doing down here baby?" rafe's rough, deep voice rumbles right against your ear, making your entire body shiver.
he’s in his full station uniform minus the heavy jacket. his navy blue tshirt stretches tight over his broad shoulders and his dark pants are tucked into heavy leather boots. he looks completely exhausted from a long shift, but the second his large palms sink into the soft flesh of your hips, his fingers tighten painfully, molding your shape.
"i came to see you!" you chirp, turning around in his grip with a bright, wide smile. you wrap your arms around his neck, totally spacey and oblivious to the dark, feral look instantly taking over his blue eyes. "look at my new dress. do you like it?"
rafe doesn’t say a word. his gaze drops immediately to the front of the white fabric, noticing the way your nipples are already poking hard against the thin cotton from the cold bay air. his hand slides down your back, finding the zipper and dragging it down with a sharp tug. when his fingers brush against your completely bare lower back, his jaw goes completely slack.
"you aren't wearing anything under this," he grunts, his voice dropping an octave as he hooks his fingers under the fabric of your hem, pulling it all the way up to your waist to reveal your completely bare, soft thighs and the wet, glistening view between them. "you walked across the street to my station completely naked under a dress?"
"it was a surprise," you whine softly, your head tilting in that dizzy, innocent way that always drives him insane, even as you instinctively arch your hips into his pants. "i just forgot, rafe."
"i'm gonna fucking ruin you," rafe growls, his blue eyes dark and completely dilated.
he doesn't even take you to the bunk rooms. instead, he hoists you up by your thighs, making you let out a loud, needy gasp as your legs automatically wrap around his thick waist. he carries you over to the back of the rescue truck, slamming your back firmly against the cool metal door before pinning you there with his heavy torso.
he doesn't prep you or take his time. rafe reaches down, unzipping his station pants with a harsh, desperate rip, and his erection snaps free, huge, thick, and pulsing heavily with pre cum. he hitches your thighs up even higher over his shoulders, completely opening you up under the dim overhead bay lights. you watch him with wide, dazed eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs as he places the wet head right against your soaking entrance.
with one heavy, arrogant thrust, rafe drives himself completely inside you, bottoming out against your core in one deep, brutal shove.
you let out a loud, choked shriek, your back arching off the metal truck door as your tight walls stretch to the absolute limit around his thick girth. he fills you so completely it steals the breath right out of your lungs, stretching you open so wide it’s an intense, overwhelming ache.
"fuck," rafe groans, closing his eyes as his entire body goes rigid. your wet heat is squeezing him so tight it’s turning him crazy, your inner muscles clamping down around him like a vice. "you're so fucking tight for me. so soft and wet."
he starts moving immediately, his pace completely merciless. he uses his massive hands to grip your hips, digging his fingers deep into your soft skin, keeping you pinned against the truck as he pumps into you with slow, heavy, bottoming out thrusts. every time his pelvis slaps against your soft thighs, a loud, wet, echoing smack fills the empty bay. your mind goes totally blank, completely consumed by the thick friction of him sliding all the way out to the head before slamming back into your depth.
"rafe," you sob out, your fingers flexing helplessly against his broad shoulders as he deepens the pace, the sensation turning your knees to jelly.
"take it baby," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he bites violently at your skin, leaving a dark, messy mark right over your pulse point.
he changes the angle, lifting your hips slightly higher so every hard, ruthless shove hits your sweet spot perfectly. your hips tilt up automatically, matching his brutal rhythm, your airy innocence completely melting into dirty, desperate whines. rafe's pace becomes completely erratic and violent, his heavy breathing filling the quiet station as he uses his pure strength to completely dominate you against the rescue vehicle.
right when the friction is getting too intense, rafe slows down his brutal pounding just a fraction. his heavy hips still grind deeply against you, keeping his thick length buried to the hilt, but his free hand slides right down between your bodies. his large, heavy palm cups your wet center, and he slides his thumb right up to find your swollen clit.
the contrast is dizzying. while his body is still pinning you roughly against the metal truck, his thumb begins to play with you so incredibly softly. he swirls his thumb around the sensitive little peak, lightly teasing the hood, slicking your own lubrication over you in slow, deliberate circles.
"rafe, oh my god," you whine, your head tossing back against the metal door, your mind completely melting from the gentle friction. your hips involuntarily shudder against his thumb, trying to press harder into his hand. "rafe, please, touch it harder."
"no," he murmurs against your lips, his blue eyes staring down into yours, totally blown out and heavy. he keeps the touch maddeningly soft, just barely brushing over the hyper sensitive nerve endings while his hips give another slow, agonizingly deep thrust. "look down baby. look at what m'doing to you."
you blink through the tears blurring your vision, your head tilting down to watch. the dim overhead lights illuminate everything. his dark, calloused hand is slick and covered in your juices, his long fingers carefully parting your inner lips to expose your hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves. he uses his index finger and thumb to gently pinch and lift the hood back, baring the red, engorged little pearl completely to the cool air before his thumb rolls over it with an agonizing slowness.
"see how swollen you are?" rafe grunts, his voice thick with unhinged desire as he watches his own hand squeeze the plush, sensitive nub, rolling it firmly between his fingertips until a sharp, electricity-like shock shoots straight up your spine. "you're fucking dripping all over my hand. every time i squeeze it, you squeeze my cock so tight m'about to lose it.
"pinch them," rafe commands suddenly, his hot breath hitting your ear as his hand stays down between your legs, relentlessly rolling your clit. his blue eyes are dark, completely glazed over as he stares down at your bare chest bouncing with every slow, heavy thrust. "grab your nipples for me, baby. let me see you play with them while m'fucking you."
you can barely process the words through the haze in your brain, but your hands automatically drop from his shoulders down to your own breasts. you cup the heavy, soft weight of them, your small fingers contrasting against the pale skin as you find your own tight, pink peaks.
"yeah, just like that," rafe groans, a dark, needy sound tearing from his throat as he watches you. his hips give a hard, deep roll, burying his thick length as far as it can go, stretching you wide while you pinch your own nipples, tugging them roughly until you let out a sharp, crying gasp. "squeeze 'em harder, baby. pull on them while m'stretching you out. show me how dirty you can look for me."
your fingers flex, rolling the hyper-sensitive tips between your thumbs and index fingers, pulling on them in sync with the slow, deep grinding of his pelvis. the double stimulation is completely unhinged—the rough, direct friction of his thumb squeezing your clit, the heavy fullness of his cock bottoming out inside your wet walls, and your own hands roughly teasing your breasts right in front of his face.
you let out a broken, pathetic sob, your hands clutching back at your breasts as you watch his thumb relentlessly tease you, slicking back the hood over and over again. the sight of his rough, grease-stained firefighter hands completely wrecking your clean, soft body while you play with yourself is too much. your hips start to buck blindly against his hand, desperately chasing the friction as he gives another deep, internal twitch that sends you over the absolute brink.
the gentle stimulation turns into a runaway train. your tight walls squeeze down on his thick length, pulsing violently over and over, which only makes him growl like an animal. rafe’s composure finally snaps completely. he yanks his hand away from your clit, his grip on your hips turning bruising as his pace turns back into a frantic, soaking wet slam.
"fuck yeah, feel how tight you get when you're close," rafe commands, driving himself into you with everything he has left, his pelvis battering against your soft flesh. "milk me, baby. take it all."
you shriek, your eyes rolling back into your head as your climax hits you, making you writhe helplessly against him while your core spasms violently around him. rafe lets out a loud, gutteral roar at the feel of you clamping down, giving three more massive, deep thrusts that stretch you completely open before his body locks up.
he groans a deep, broken sound as he cums, thick and burning hot, deep inside your womb, pouring himself into you in huge, heavy pulses until you're overflowing down his thighs. he keeps you pinned hard against the truck for a long minute, his heavy, sweaty forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and unhinged.
when he finally slides out, you let out a whimpering, empty sigh, your legs sliding down his body until your bare feet hit the cold concrete floor again. you're completely dazed, a silly, breathless smile on your face as you try to smooth down your ruined, stained sundress, your inner thighs dripping with his release.
rafe zips his pants back up, fixing his uniform shirt with completely steady hands as if he didn't just brutally bend you over a rescue vehicle. he looks down at you with a smug, appreciative smirk, his blue eyes still lingering on your flushed, completely wrecked face.
"get back upstairs to my room, baby," rafe murmurs, his voice commanding and cool as he turns back toward the bay doors to check the monitors. "and don't you dare touch yourself to clean it out. i want to see my cum dripping down your legs when my shift ends."
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!reader x Jack Abbott
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. One wrong turn past the perimeter, one breath of unknown, drifting pollen, and suddenly Joel is pounding on Jack Abbott’s door with you burning up in his arms. Now it’s the middle of the night, the town's asleep, and the only medic who won’t report the two of you is the one staring at you down like he already knows this is going to get real bad.
Warnings: 18+, Smut, THREESOME, slight fluff, Age gap (Joel is 60, Jack is 50 and reader is in her 20s), sweet!joel, gentle!jack, fictional sex pollen, double penetration, inaccurate medical/scientific shit, needy!reader, pinv, unprotected sex, lots of fluid and cum lol, nipple play, finger sucking, medical kink, gloves kink?, pet names, clit rubbing, oral f!receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, medical exam, sub!reader kinda
A/N: guess who watched The Pitt and fell for yet again another old man...also! I finally learned how to do this cool gradient text thingy and now i feel even more aesthetic✨ none of this below makes sense like AT ALL but just ignore it and enjoy the smut pookies <333
"Open the goddamn door, Abbott!"
Joels boots hit the wooden steps of Jack Abbott's clinic hard enough to rattle the whole damn porch. His first knock wasn't even a knock—it was a fist slamming into the wood, a desperate, violent slam that echoed through the otherwise quiet streets of Jackson.
The night air was thick with a cold that etched deep into bones, wind so strong it moved trees and houses. But Joel couldn't feel it. Not when you were burning up in his arms, your body almost a furnace pressed tight against his chest, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps that tore at his heart one by one.
Your skin was slick with sweat despite the chill, and your eyes—those sweet eyes that usually held so much warmth, so much life—were glassy, trying to focus but failing to land on anything.
Then, a light flickered inside. The lock scraped, and the door swung open to reveal Jack Abbott, still half-dressed in a worn pullover over his undershirt, his grey hair mussed from sleep that had clearly been interrupted.
"What the hell happened?" He asked, eyes going worried.
Joel didn't answer.
He just moved, carrying you past Jack and down the narrow hallway that led to the small clinic room Jack kept in his home.
The space was clean but lived-in: a metal examination chair in the center, shelves lined with bottles and worn medical texts, a couch, a single lamp casting a warm, yellow glow over the worn wooden floor.
Jack Abbott arrived in Jackson a little over two years after Joel did.
He had been traveling with a small group before, acting as their medic, but the constant moving wore him down.
Jackson was the first place in years that felt safe enough to stop, so he stayed when Maria asked him if he wanted to, while the others moved on.
Within a few months, he turned one of the unused small houses near the edge of town into two spaces: a tiny clinic in the front and a small living area for himself in the back.
People started calling it Abbott's clinic.
Joel met him after a patrol accident left him with a deep cut.
Jack stitched him up with quiet, steady confidence, and Joel respected him immediately.
He didn't ask too many questions, no bullshit, no small talk. Over time, Joel kept ending up at Jack's door, Jack kept patching him, and a quiet, practical friendship formed between them.
So when Joel set you down on his examination chair he knew you were in good hands.
His hands stayed on you, steady, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.
Jack followed close behind, already pulling out a pair of latex gloves from a box on the counter.
The snap of rubber against his wrists was sharp in the quiet room. He moved to your other side, his eyes scanning you with the practiced efficiency of someone who had seen too many emergencies in too many late hours.
"Joel." He said it firmly, not a question. Then softer, more insistent. "Joel. Talk to me. What happened?"
Joel dragged a hand down his face, the stubble rough against his palm.
"We—" He stopped. Swallowed. And then started again, his voice lower. "We weren't supposed to be there."
Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Where?"
"The old storage yard. Past the perimeter."
The silence stretched for one beat, two, three and Joel could see the thoughts racing behind those dark eyes—the implications, the danger, the sheer stupidity of it.
Jack let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening. "You two were past the forbidden perimeter?"
Joel nodded once, feeling guilty, miserable.
"She saw…" He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head. "Hell, I don't know. Rabbits or somethin'. Wanted a closer look."
His voice cracked on the last words—with frustration, with...with anger at himself, at the moment of weakness that had led him to agree, to let you wander just a little too far, just a little too deep into the overgrown brush beyond the safe zone.
You had smiled at him. God—that sweet, hopeful smile that made it impossible to say no. And now you were here, burning up and it was all his fault.
"She breathed in this cloud of…dust. Pollen. Somethin'."
Jack only stared at him, open mouth, gaze caught somewhere between disbelief and the cold calm of a man processing information.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, very quietly, he said: "Joel."
"It ain't important right now," Joel snapped, the words cutting through the air like a blade. But the edge softened almost immediately as his eyes flicked back to you, and his voice dropped to something quieter, more fragile. "Just—just fix her, alright?"
Jack held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, once, and turned his full attention to you.
He leaned in, his movements careful, deliberate, as he reached for a small penlight from besides him. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's take a look at you."
He leaned closer, bringing the penlight up to your eyes. But your head lolled slightly, and you squirmed on the chair, a low, restless sound escaping your throat. Jack paused, his hand hovering near your jaw.
"Easy now. I need you to hold still for just a second, okay?" He tilted his head, meeting your gaze from behind the flashlight. "C'mon. Look at me."
Your eyes—glassy, unfocused, pupils blown wide—drifted toward him.
Jack clicked on the penlight, shining it first into your left eye, then your right, watching the way your pupils reacted—or failed to react. His brow furrowed. He hummed low in his throat, a sound that made Joel's stomach clench.
He clicked off the penlight, put it back into his place, and straightened up. He met Joel's gaze, his expression thoughtful.
"Pupils are dilated and sluggish. Could be a neuroactive toxin," he said, his voice carrying the weight of professional assessment. "Some kind of alkaloid, maybe. That targets the central nervous system." He paused, then added, almost to himself, "But her skin is flushed, and her pulse is tachycardic. Heart rate's way up. Could be pyrexia, but…" He trailed off, then turned back to you, his voice gentle again. "How did this flower look? Can you tell me anything about it?"
Your lips parted. "Trans…translucent. Purple."
Jack's eyes sharpened suddenly.
He turned away, crossing to the cluttered desk in the corner where a worn leather notebook sat among scattered papers. He opened it and the silence stretched while he flipped through it.
"Damn it," Jack muttered under his breath.
Joel stiffened. "What?"
Jack didn't look up. He kept turning pages, his finger tracing lines of cramped handwriting. "I've seen mentions of this before. Not many though, just scattered reports from patrol medics out west. And a couple of passing mentions in some old pre-outbreak botany notes I found in the library archive." He stopped on a page, reading it intently. Then he let out a slow breath and turned to face Joel.
"Reports of what?" Joel pressed, his voice tight.
Jack hesitated. It was a hesitation that Joel had never seen on him before.
He set the notebook down and crossed his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Joel.
"A mutated flower. Causes fever, disorientation, elevated pulse…and some....sexual changes."
Joels head snapped up. "It ain't the time for jokes, Abbott."
But Jack didn't flinch. "I'm not joking. That's what the reports called it. I told you—it causes fever, disorientation, elevated pulse." He paused, letting the words settle. "The body's been flooded with a compound that mimics extreme sexual arousal. It's not toxic on its own, but if left untreated, the fever and heart strain can cause complications."
Joel stared at him and when he turned back to you, he saw the way your fingers curled and uncurled against the metal and the way a soft, breathy sound escaped your lips as you shifted restlessly on the chair.
"Complications," Joel repeated, his voice hollow. "What kind of complications?"
Jack moved closer, his expression softening as he looked at you. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand gently against your forehead, feeling the fever that radiated off you in waves.
"If we don't address the underlying arousal-based symptoms, the body will keep ramping up. Heart rate spikes. Temperature climbs. Eventually, the system burns out." He pulled his hand away, his voice dropping lower. "The only effective treatment recorded in those reports is…direct physical release. Sexual stimulation to completion, multiple times, until the compound is flushed from the system."
He held up a hand as Joel opened his mouth, ready to protest. "Look, I know how it sounds. But I've seen enough strange things in this world to know that nature doesn't care about what sounds reasonable."
Joel turned away, his hand dragging through his hair, frustration in his face.
"So what are you tellin' me? That I gotta—" He couldn't even finish the sentence.
"I'm telling you that she needs care, Joel. And that care is going to involve intimacy. Whether that's with you, or with me helping her through it medically, or both—that's up to you. But she can't wait much longer." Jack's voice was calm, steady, the voice of a man doing his job. The room fell silent again. The only sounds were your labored breathing and the faint ticking of a clock somewhere deeper in the house.
Joel then turned back, his eyes meeting yours. He saw the fear in them—and something else, something raw and needy that he didn't know how to name.
And suddenly—
"Please," you whined, the word thick and broken. "Please…need…need something."
Your body was a furnace, burning from the inside out. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed, screaming for relief. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, damp with sweat, and it felt like a cage. Your hands moved before your mind could catch up—grabbing at the hem, tugging, pulling.
Joel's eyes widened. "Hey, hey—hold on—"
But you couldn't hold on anymore.
You were beyond reason, beyond shame. You squirmed against the chair, your movements jerky and frantic, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it aside.
Joel caught your wrists gently, trying to slow you down, but you twisted out of his grip, your fingers fumbling with the button of your jeans, the zipper, pushing them down your hips with a desperate, whimpering sound that tore at Joel's chest.
"Honey—" Joel started, his voice cracking.
But Jack held up a hand, his expression calm but intent. "Let her. The compound is driving her body to seek release. Fighting it will only make it worse, Joel."
Joel's hands fell to his sides. He watched, helpless, as you rid yourself of the last of your clothing, tossing jeans and panties to the floor until you were bare on the examination chair, your skin flushed and slick with sweat, your chest heaving with every ragged breath.
Your legs fell open without thought, your hips rolling against the cold metal, searching for friction that wasn't there.
"Need…please…I need something…" Your voice was a broken loop, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.
Joel's throat tightened. He looked at Jack.
When Jack met his gaze, there was no judgment in those dark eyes—only the weight of a man who understood the gravity of the situation. Jack's hand paused over your body, as he turned to Joel, his expression asking a silent question.
May I?
Joel stared at him for a long, breathless moment. Then he nodded, his voice low and rough. "Do what ya gotta do. I trust you."
Jack's shoulders relaxed a fraction and he moved to the foot of the chair, positioning himself between your spread legs.
"I ain't no gynaecologist," Jack said, his voice carrying a hint of dry humour. "But I need to see if it's really the flower we're talking about. The reports mentioned specific physical changes."
Joel clenched his jaw, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders, holding you steady as you squirmed beneath him. You looked up at him, your eyes glassy and wet, and you whimpered.
"Please…let him…"
Joel let out a shaky breath. He looked at Jack and gave a short, sharp nod.
Jack leaned in. His gloved fingers found your thighs, then he gently parted your labia with precision.
He murmured to himself, cataloging observations as he worked. "Labia swollen. Significant engorgement. Vulvar tissue appears hyperemic, engorged with blood flow consistent with severe vasocongestion."
You gasped as his thumb accidentally brushed against the hood of your clit, a jolt of electricity shooting through your core. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a desperate, wordless sound escaping your lips.
"Easy," Jack murmured, more to himself than to you.
He shifted his grip, using his thumb and forefinger to part the inner folds, exposing your entrance. It was gaping, red, and glistening with a clear, almost viscous fluid that had already pooled on the chair beneath you.
Joel's hands tightened on your shoulders, his knuckles almost white.
He trusted Jack—hell, he was the only man in this godforsaken place he trusted you with. But he still couldn't help the way he felt. A little too protective. Maybe even jealous.
"Her insides feel swollen," Jack said. He pressed two fingers—index and middle—against your opening, testing the resistance. The muscles fluttered and clenched, straining against the intrusion before it even begun. "Loss of tone in the pelvic floor muscles. Usually, there's some natural tension, but here…it's like her body is actively pulling things in."
And then he pressed inside.
The latex-covered fingertips breached you with a wet, slick sound that echoed in the small room.
You cried out—not in pain, but in need that tore through every nerve ending. Your back arched off the chair, your head thrown back, Joel's name falling from your lips in a desperate, ragged moan.
"Oh, fuck—!"
Jack didn't move. He held his fingers still, buried to the second knuckle, his eyes fixed on your face, watching your reaction with clinical detachment even as his body betrayed a slight tension.
"She's extremely sensitive. The internal tissues are swollen and hot—probably a few degrees above normal body temperature. The flower is causing nerve hypersensitivity."
Your hips bucked again, grinding against Jack's hand, seeking more. Every bit of shame leaving your body.
But the pressure of his fingers inside you was maddening—not enough, never enough. You whimpered, a high, thin sound that turned into a gasping sob as Jack slowly began to withdraw his fingers, dragging them along your inner walls.
And then, suddenly, an orgasm hit you without warning.
It crashed through you like a wave, sudden and violent, pulling a strangled scream from your throat. Your entire body clenched, your inner muscles spasmed around Jack's retreating fingers, and a gush of fluid flooded out of you, soaking his gloved hand and dripping onto the chair in thick, sticky ropes.
Jack pulled his hand back, his fingers coated in the warm, translucent fluid. He held them up, examining the consistency with narrowed eyes.
Joel could only stare, his mouth hanging open.
His gaze flicked from your flushed, trembling body to Jack's dripping fingers, and then back to your face, where tears and sweat had mingled in a mask of desperate relief and craving.
"Did she just…?" Joel's voice was hoarse, cautious.
Jack nodded slowly, wiping his fingers on a clean cloth. "Ejaculate. Yeah. That's…that's exactly what that was. The flower causes her body to reach climax extremely quickly—and just as quickly, the need returns. It's like the release doesn't satisfy anything; it only opens the door for more."
You were already squirming again, your hips rolling against the empty air, your breath coming in sharp, frantic pants. "Please…more…need more…"
Jack set the cloth aside and picked up the blood pressure cuff, wrapping it around your upper arm.
He pumped it up, watching the gauge as the numbers climbed.
"This is an unusual procedure," he said, his voice flat. "Her body will need release. Repeatedly. And even then, the effects might last for hours—until the compound works its way out of her system."
Joel ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the grey strands in frustration. "Jesus Christ. Is there any medicine? Anything you can give her to stop this? To slow it down?"
Jack shook his head, the blood pressure cuff hissing as he released the pressure. "No. This is all about managing symptoms. The fever, the blood pressure, the dehydration. The only thing that treats the root cause is—" He paused, glancing at Joel. "—well, you know..."
He pulled off his gloves with a snap, tossing them into a bin. Then he grabbed a fresh pair, pulling them on with practiced efficiency.
"I could now let you two go," Jack said, turning to face Joel fully. "Let you handle this on your own. Just fuck like goddamn rabbits for the next few hours. But her blood pressure is 160 over 110. That's stroke territory if we're not careful. And her fever is also still climbing."
You whimpered on the chair, your hand reaching out blindly. "Please…Joel…I need…"
Joel caught your hand, pressing it to his chest. "S'okey, honey. I'm right here. Don't be scared." He leaned down, pressing another kiss to your damp forehead, his voice softening to a trembling murmur. "I got you. I ain't goin' nowhere."
He turned to Jack, his eyes hard and resolute. "I'll do it. You keep her fever and blood pressure in line. I trust you."
Jack nodded.
He pulled the chair behind your head, positioning himself so he could put cool towels on your forehead and monitor the equipment.
"I'll keep the cold packs on her neck and forehead, monitor her vitals. You handle the rest."
Joel let out a long, shaky breath. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the nearby counter. He moved between your legs, his boots scraping against the worn linoleum.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, looking down at the mess you've had made.
Your pussy was a complete wreck; swollen, red, glistening with a mix of your own fluids and the lingering evidence of your climax. Your clit stood out, big and glossy, twice its usual size. Your hole gaped, soft and open, the muscles twitching with unfulfilled need.
Joel had never seen you like that. Not even when he fucked you countless times the night before.
Jack's voice came from behind your head, quiet and steady. "I know. That's the flower."
Joel looked at your face—your tear-streaked cheeks, your parted lips, your eyes glassy and fixed on him with desperate, animal hunger. He placed his rough, calloused hands on your inner thighs, spreading you wider.
"You'll be fine, babygirl," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "I'll take care of you."
Joel's jaw tightened, his gaze flicked anywhere but towards Jack as he unzipped himself and wrapped a calloused hand around his own cock.
He stroked himself slowly at first, trying to will himself hard despite the awkward weight of another man's eyes in the room. Embarrassment flushed his neck, but the sight of you—needy, swollen, and waiting—pushed him forwards.
He needed to do this for you, his sweet girl, no matter how strange it felt with his old friend watching.
Joel lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance before he pushed inside in one steady thrust.
A high-pitched moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking up to meet him as your walls fluttered and sucked him deeper.
"Continue," Jack said quietly, nodding once, his voice calm and measured.
Joel grunted, hips snapping forward.
The wet, splashing sounds of your soaked pussy filled the small clinic room with every thrust, obscene and loud.
He punched into you harder, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside while your cunt milked him greedily, rhythmic pulses drawing him in.
"You need to talk to her the way you guys always do it, Joel," Jack instructed, still monitoring your pulse. "Keep her grounded."
Joel's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded, voice rough. "D-does that feel good, honey?" He drove deeper, breath hitching. "Prettiest cunt all fuckin' swollen. Look at you, takin' me so good."
You whined, the praise sending fresh heat through you.
Jack suppressed a smirk, trying to focus instead on the steady thrum beneath his fingers. "Pulse is elevated but stable," he murmured. "Pupils are still dilated."
And without warning, another orgasm crashed over you.
This time, your thighs fell further apart as a raw cry teared from your throat, back arching off of the examination chair. Your cunt clamped down, once, twice, then opened. A hot, gushing stream bursted hard, pushing Joel's cock out and making a splashing sound in the quiet room.
"Joel—"
Joel's breath hitched as your cries echoed off of the walls, his eyes widening when the hot flood gushed against his groin.
"Fuck," he muttered, almost to himself. His eyes landed on Jack's calm ones, and a wave of embarrassment hit him. He was standing there like this was nothing, like the whole scene wasn't awkward as hell, and Joel just couldn't decide if that made it better or worse.
Jack nodded, his eyes landing on your clenching tummy. "Normal reaction."
Joel cursed again, gripping his slick cock and thrusting back inside your still-quivering pussy.
"Wanted to see those bunnies, huh?" he rasped, tsking with his tongue as he set a punishing rhythm. "Now look at what happened to you."
Each thrust made your squelching cunt echo wetly around him.
Jack's gaze sharpened as he noticed drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. "Hm. Another autonomic response; excessive salivation," he noted, and glanced at Joel mid-thrust. "Mind if I help keep her calm?"
Joel nodded without breaking his rhythm. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted you to feel better.
"Easy now. Breathe for me." Jack slid two latex-gloved fingers past your lips. "I'm just gonna help you."
And you immediately sucked them in, tongue swirling, a broken whimper escaping around them. "Please, doctor…"
Jack's breath got caught in his throat, his own cock twitching to life, growing visibly against his pants even though he was trying to he professional.
"S'okay, sweetheart." he soothed, fingers gentle but firm in your mouth.
You sucked on them with desperate, whining pulls, saliva coating the gloves.
Joel shook his head, voice strained. "God damn flowers."
"I know," Jack replied, eyes flicking down to where Joel's cock disappeared into your soaked cunt. "Reports were way worse. It's like heat for humans—constant need until the cycle breaks."
Joel kept thrusting, the filthy wet sounds growing louder, his thumb finding your sensitive clit, giving only gentle, light rubs. You moaned around Jack's fingers, whimpered, your body arching from the stool as another orgasm ripped through you.
He buried himself deep, grunting as he came too, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt while your walls clenched around him.
Jack's free hand stroked your hair. "You're doing so well," he whispered. "That's it. Let it all out."
Joel slowly pulled out, watching thick ropes of his release trickle down from your swollen pussy. He tucked himself back in, thinking that would be enough.
But the needy ache in your core hadn't faded. Your hips still rocked, eyes glassy, silently begging for more. Your cunt started clenching again, desperate to be stuffed.
Jack pulled his fingers out of your mouth, taking his gloves off.
"She's…she's still not done," he said, his voice softer now, laced with an uncertainty that wasn't there before.
He swallowed. "The flower's effects are cumulative. She's had three orgasms so far, but the pollen load was significant."
Jack's fingers trailed down your cheek, your jaw, until they rested on your collarbone. "Your heart rate's still high." He glanced at Joel. "Can you hold her steady? I need to examine her cervix again."
Joel nodded, his hand moving to cradle your head. He leaned over you, his face inches from yours, his breath was warm against your cheek, pressing a kiss on your nose. "You hear that, baby? Doctor Abbott's gonna take a look. Just breathe, okay?"
Jack pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, the snap of latex loud in the quiet.
He positioned himself between your legs again, his fingers gentle as he parted your slick folds.
Your cunt was still a swollen, pink mess—puffy and raw, dripping with Joel's cum and your own release.
Jack's brows furrowed deeper, his tongue wetting his lips. "No tearing. But she's inflamed. The tissue is still pretty engorged." He pressed two fingers just inside your entrance, and you gasped, your hips bucking. "Still sensitive. Very sensitive."
Joel watched, his eyes dark, the grip on your hand tightening. "What do we need to do?"
Jack withdrew his fingers slowly. "I think…I think she needs stimulation again. But maybe a different angle. She's been stimulated vaginally. The flower's compounds are absorbed through the mucous membranes, so oral stimulation might also help" He looked at Joel, and for the first time, a faint blush colored his cheeks. "I could…only if that's okay with you, I could use my mouth. On her. It's the gentlest way. Fingers or a toy might be too rough with the swelling."
Joel's eyebrows rised. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared at Jack with a mixture of surprise and unsureness. But he trusted him. "You're the doctor."
Jack's answer was a shaky breath.
He knelt down, his prosthetic clicking softly as he positioned himself between your spread thighs. He looked up at Joel, eyes wide, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I won't do something that you don't want."
"You won't," Joel said, and there's a quiet certainty in his voice. "You're good at what you do. And you care. That's all that matters."
Jack leaned in, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, a soft, hesitant kiss. He started murmuring to you, his words muffled against your skin. "It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax. Let me help you."
He trailed his mouth up, leaving a wet path, until he reached your pussy.
He hesitated at first, his breath hot against your swollen folds, and then his tongue darted out, flicking tentatively over your clit.
You cried out, a sharp, high sound, your hips jerking.
Joel shushed you, his hand stroking your hair. "Easy, easy, honey. Let him work."
Jack's tongue moved in slow, careful circles, his eyes closed, his whole being focused on the task. He was so gentle—so so gentle it almost hurt. He let his tongue flatten, just barely, dragging the softest, wettest line from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the hood of your swollen clit.
When he reached the nub, he didn't flick or circle.
Instead, he parted his lips just enough to take the tiny bud between them, not sucking, not even really holding—just resting it there, letting his breath ghost over it. He knew you were sensitive so he gave it a single, featherlight pulse of his tongue, like a heartbeat, before releasing it just as gently.
He pulled back for a moment, looking at Joel. "She's still very wet. The pollen keeps secreting fluids. That's good—it means her body is actively metabolizing."
He pressed another kiss onto your inner thigh, his hand coming up to cup your mound, his thumb rubbing soft circles. "You're doing so well. Just a little more, okay? I'll make it good."
Joel watched, his breath coming heavier. He was hard again, his cock pressing against his jeans.
He didn't touch himself, though. He just held you, his eyes locked on Jack's mouth as it worked over you, his own throat tight with something that feels like gratitude and jealousy all tangled together.
"I got her, Joel," Jack said between gentle strokes of his tongue, his voice strained. "She's responding. Clenching. She's—" He broke off as you moaned, your body beginning to tremble again. "She's close. Another one."
Joel leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. "Let go, baby. Let Jack take care of you. You can do it."
Your orgasm build, slow and deep, and when it finally broke; it's was a rolling, shuddering wave that pulled a desperate sob from your chest.
He didn't stop, his tongue gentling through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor until you're limp, your body sagging into the chair.
"Good, yeah, that's real good," Jack pulled back, wiping his chin with his hand while looking at the fluids you released. "She did well."
You breathed out, already feeling your cunt spasm again, in need of another release.
Jack checked your fever and your blood pressure again, letting out a soft breath, turning to face Joel. His voice was low and gentle, unhurried. "It's still not stabilizing the way I'd like. Her heart rate's come down which is good. But her blood pressure's still sitting high, and her temperature's not dropping."
Joel's grip on your hand tightened. "God dammit. What else can we do?" He asked. "You said oral would help."
Jack nodded slowly. "It did help. It brought her some relief. But the pollen is trapped in her pelvic tissue now. To fully clear it, she needs a stronger parasympathetic response. I think at this point, oral alone won't reach that deep."
He paused, thinking.
"There's another option," he said, looking at Joel first, then down at you. "It's a bit more...involved. But I think it would work. I've read it in the reports."
Joel's brows furrowed. "Just tell me."
"Dual stimulation. It could trigger a more complete autonomic response. Simultaneous penetration of the vaginal and anal canals would increase overall parasympathetic activation, potentially clearing the pollen from deeper tissue through intensified contractions and fluid release."
He held up a hand, reassuring. "I know it sounds like a lot. But i've read enough of them in the reports."
Joel looked at you, then back at Jack. His voice was rough but not angry. "You mean, hell—both of us? At the same time?"
"If you're comfortable with that," Jack said, his tone still gentle, almost apologetic. "I wouldn't suggest it if I thought there was another way. But she's still suffering, Joel. I can see it in her eyes. And I don't want her fever to spike again."
Joel stared at the floor for a long moment, then looked at you. Your skin was still flushed, your eyes glassy with need, begging him to do something. You squeezed his hand weakly, a small sound escaping your throat.
He let out a breath. "Fine. If it'll help her. But I swear to god above, Abbott, if she stays like this. Then—"
"Joel… I hear you," Jack murmured, hands half‑raised in a calming gesture. "I'm not…I'm not thrilled about this either. But I won't let anything happen to her. I promise you that."
He then knelt between your legs again, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. "I need to check if she's ready," he said. "The pollen causes natural relaxation, but I want to be sure there's no discomfort."
He pressed a thumb gently against your perineum, then traced it along the rim of your anus.
The touch was featherlight, exploratory but uour body responded without a thought: a shiver, a soft gasp.
Jack looked up at Joel, his expression calm.
"She's already relaxed. No prep needed." He nodded.
Jack shifted his gaze to you. His hand remained where it was, a grounding pressure against your most intimate space. He spoke slowly, his voice a soothing murmur.
"Sweetheart, I'm going to tell you exactly what we're thinking, and you can take your time. There's no rush."
He paused, waiting for your eyes to meet his.
"Joel will be with you the way he always is—inside you, slow and gentle. And I'll be behind you, entering you here," he said, his thumb pressing just slightly inward, "in your bottom. We'll move together, very slowly, matching each other's pace. It'll feel full—intense—but it won't hurt if you're relaxed, and you are. The pollen will release, your fever will come down, and your heart will settle."
He watched your face, his eyes patient and warm.
Joel leaned down, brushing his lips against your nose. "It's your call, babygirl. I'm right here."
Your breathing hitched. The heat inside you coiled tighter, desperate. You looked up at Joel, then at Jack—his dark eyes patient, his hand steady on your body.
You nodded, needy.
"Yes," you whispered. "Please. I need something."
Jack's lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. "That's good. That's real good." He withdrew his hand slowly and looked at Joel.
Joel's jaw tightened. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, slow and deliberate. Then he looked over his shoulder at Jack, and to the couch in the room. "This couch work for you? She'll be more comfortable there—pillows, somethin' to brace against."
Jack nodded, already moving. "I'll get it set up."
-
Jack cleared the sofa with efficient movements: tossing aside a pillow, spreading a clean blanket over the cushions, positioning two more pillows against the armrest.
His hands moved with practiced precision, but there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he smoothed the fabric.
He was trying to stay professional. It was cute, in a way; this man who had stitched up Joel's wounds and patched up Jackson's sick, now preparing a makeshift bed for something more intimate.
And you wouldn't lie if it didn't excite you.
While Jack worked, Joel stayed with you. He cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs tracing the line of your cheekbones.
"Hey," he murmured, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. "Look at me."
You did. His eyes so soft. Tender. The same eyes that had watched over you during patrol, that had softened when you begged him to take you to the forbidden parameter just to see those stupid, wild rabbits and play with them.
"It's gonna be alright," he said. "You trust me?"
"Always," you breathed.
"Trust Jack?"
You glanced towards the sofa, where Jack was adjusting the last pillow. He caught your gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile—the same smile he gave before setting a broken bone, before delivering difficult news.
Professional. Always kind and gentle.
"Yes," you said. "I trust him."
Joel leaned in and kissed you then. Slow, thorought, a kiss that promised you stability. His lips moved against yours with a gentle pressure, his tongue brushing the seam of your mouth, tasting you. One hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head, while the other found the small of your back, pulling you just slightly closer.
When he broke the kiss, you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours.
"Good girl," he whispered. "You're doing so good. Now let's get you comfortable."
Without warning, Joel slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you off of the exam chair as if you weighed nothing.
You gasped, your arms instinctively winding around his neck.
Jack had positioned himself on the far end of the sofa, sitting sideways, his legs spread, a condom wrapper discarded on the side table.
He was already hard—you could see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans, and when he shifted, the fabric pulled tight.
"Come here," Jack said, his voice a low murmur. He patted the cushion besides him. "There we go."
Joel lowered you gently onto the sofa, your knees sinking into the plush cushion. You were facing him, your hands braced on his broad shoulders, while he sat down too.
And behind you, you could feel the heat of Jack's body.
"Alright," Joel said, his hands sliding from your shoulders down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "He's gonna take care of you from behind. And I'll be right here." He tapped your chin, making you look at him. "Right in front of you. You need to stop, you tap my arm twice. You need a breath, you say my name. You hear?"
"Yes," you whispered.
"Good girl."
He touched you gently, his hands guiding your hips, your knees, until your back was closer to Jack and you were still facing Joel. He then positioned you on your knees, the cushion soft beneath you, your thighs spread just enough to accommodate what was coming.
Jack's breath caught.
His eyes roamed over you; the curve of your ass, your pretty waist, and your back.
"You're in control," Jack said, and his voice was strained but still carrying that professional cadence, the doctor's calm. "I'm gonna put on a condom, then you can take it at your own pace."
You heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then the slick sound of him rolling it on. You looked over your shoulder, watching him position himself—knees spread, cock standing up from his body, the condom sheathing him in a thin layer of latex.
His cock was thick, smaller than Joels, standing full and erect from a nest of dark and grey curls. His head was already a dark plum shade, slick with pre-cum bubbling on top, indicating that he was already hard all the while he examined you earlier.
"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart." Jack said, and there was a raw edge to his voice now, the professional slip giving way to something hungrier. "Lower yourself onto me."
You reached behind you, fingers brushing his thigh. He flinched—a tiny jolt, involuntary. You saw his cock twitch, the head bobbing slightly.
"Please," you whispered.
Jack's jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. He forced himself to nod, keeping his hands on his own knees. "It's okey. I'm right here."
You braced one hand on the back of the sofa, the other reaching down to guide him. Your fingers found the head of his cock, slick with latex.
You positioned it against your entrance—the tight ring of muscle that had just been stretched—and pushed back.
"There she goes." Joel murmured.
The pressure was intense.
A fullness that bordered on overwhelming.
You felt every ridge, every inch as you sank onto him, your body yielding slowly, grudgingly. Jack's breath hissed through his teeth, a sharp, bitten-off sound. His knuckles were white where he gripped his own thighs, the tendons in his forearms standing out with the effort of staying still.
Joel breathed out, holding onto your waist as he guided you gently down.
"Good," Jack managed, his voice strangled. "That's…that's perfect. You're doing so well."
He was fully sheathed inside you then—your ass stretched around his cock, the sensation so deep it seemed to reach into your belly. You felt full, split open, but not in pain. Just…finally filled the way you needed it.
In front of you, Joel watched your face with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His hand left your waist and stroked your thigh, a slow, grounding rhythm, his thumb tracing the crease where your leg met your hip. "You're my good girl." He whispered.
His own cock was hard, straining against his jeans, but he made no move to touch himself.
All his focus was on you.
"You got her?" Joel asked Jack, his voice low and gravelly.
"Yeah," Jack said, and his hands finally moved, settling on your hips. Not to guide you, not to push—just to steady. His palms were warm through the thin gown. "She's fully seated. Go ahead, Joel."
Joel's eyes never left yours. His cock thick and flushed, already slick with precum and your release from earlier.
He shifted closer, his knees bracketing yours on the cushion, his cock pressing against your wet, waiting entrance. He didn't push in immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your lips—soft, lingering.
"I've got you," he murmured against your mouth. "Breathe for me. Deep and slow. I can feel you clenching already—you're so ready, baby."
"Yes," you breathed.
He pushed in.
The sensation was indescribable—Joel's cock filling your cunt from the front, Jack's cock stretching your ass from behind.
They were separated by only a thin wall of flesh, and you could feel every movement of each man through the other. Joel's thickness pressed against Jack's length, a constant, intimate pressure that made you gasp.
Joel groaned low in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours. "Fuck," he breathed. "There we go, honey. There we go. You feel so perfect around me."
Behind you, Jack's grip tightened on your hips. "Jesus christ."
"I know," Joel said. "I know."
Joel stopped there, buried full, and let out a low breath against your neck. Then he looked down.
Your cunt was stretched wide around his shaft, the lips pulled apart, pink and slick with your own wetness. Below that, Jack's cock stuffed deep in your ass, making the whole patch of skin between your legs look swollen, used, full.
He watched the way his own cock disappeared into you, how the flesh clung to him like it didn't want to let go.
He then pressed a palm flat against your belly, rubbed slow circles just above where he's buried to calm you down.
They stayed still for a long moment—both of them buried inside you, your body stretched and full and trembling. Joel's breath was warm against your cheek. Jack's chest pressed against your back, his heart hammering against your shoulder blades.
"We're gonna move when you're ready. Slow and deep. Get your body to get used to it." Jack said behind you, gripping your waist.
Joel huffed as a nod, giving your cheek a kiss before his hand touched your mound, spreading you to watch himself.
Then they began to move. Small, shallow thrusts.
At first, it's barely more than a pulse—a subtle shift of both cocks deep inside you, rocking in place. Your pussy flutters around the first, a gentle squeeze that welcomes the tiny motion. Your ass clenches around the second, holding him tight as he budges fractionally in and out.
You gasped, burying your head into his neck.
"Shh, it's okey." he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "You can take it, babygirl."
His lips found your cheek, soft and lingering. He pulled you back just enough to meet your eyes—half-lidded, glassy, still lost in the haze of pleasure. His thumb traced over your cheekbone, wiping a smear of drool from the corner of your mouth.
"So damn beautiful, aren't you?"
Behind you, Jack's breathing was heavy, controlled. He was pumping inside you, careful not to be fast, his hands resting on your hips with a gentleness that belied the tension in his shoulders.
Over your shoulder, his gaze met Joel's.
A silent conversation passed between them. A nod.
A confirmation. We're good. She's good. Keep going.
"She is doing good," Jack murmured.
Joel nodded, his hand sliding down your side, fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip. "Best girl," he said, low and warm. "Yeah, baby?"
A sound tore out of you then.
Loud, ragged, utterly needy. It rose from somewhere deep in your chest—a whine that had no shape, no words, just pure, aching want.
Jack smiled. "Is she drooling again?"
Joel pulled back just enough to look at your face. Your lips were parted, slack, a glistening string of saliva stretching from your lower lip to your chin.
Your eyes were all hazy, unfocused, your breath coming in shuddering gasps.
"Mmhmm," Joel hummed. "Look at you, baby. All drooling to your chin. Messy thing."
Jack couldn't help but chuckle, his cock twitching inside you. His hand came up from behind then. His finger in latex, pressed against your lips without hesitation. The touch was light though, asking permission, even now.
Your mouth opened, and you took him in.
You closed your mouth around him and sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks, pulling him deeper. A deep, shuddering satisfaction rolled through your chest.
Your eyes fluttered closed. This was what you needed. Something to suck on. Something to anchor you.
Jack's hissed out. "There you go. That helps, huh?"
Joel's hand slid down your belly, past the slick, glistening mess of your thighs, until his thumb found your clit. It was swollen, angry red, twice its normal size and pushing out from its hood like a small, desperate pearl. The barest brush of his calloused thumb made your whole body jolt, a shockwave of sensation that ripped through you.
"Easy, Joel." Jack murmurs, his voice a low. "Her clitoris is sensitive right now. If you apply too much direct pressure, she might get overwhelmed. Try lighter, circular motions, just around the hood. Let her build."
Joel nodded, his eyes analysing your face as he touched the little nub gently. Slow, deliberate circles, barely any pressure.
Your back bowed, arching into Jack's chest, your mouth clamping down on his finger, sucking for dear life.
The orgasm that ripped through you was sudden, violent but perfect. It started in your clit, that single point of pressure and radiated outwards in hot, electric waves. Your cunt clenched around Joel's cock, your ass tightening around Jack's.
A broken cry escaped around the latex in your mouth.
"That's it," Jack groaned, pushing his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling your throat convulse around the tip. "Just like that, sweetheart. You got it."
Joel's smile was soft, his eyes wet with something profound. He kept his thumb moving in slow, steady circles, drawing out every last tremor of your climax.
"You're doing so good for us, baby. Flushin' all that pollen out, huh?"
You nodded as best you could, gasping, drool pooling around Jack's knuckles.
They held still then, pausing their thrusts and letting your body catch up, letting the aftershocks of your releasre ripple through you.
Jack's free hand moved to your wrist.
His thumb pressed into the delicate skin, feeling the rapid thrum of your pulse. He counted silently. Then he moved his hand to the side of your neck, feeling the beat there, strong and wild. He pressed his palm to your forehead, then your cheek.
"Fever's going down," he said, the doctor's cadence threading back through the ragged lust in his voice. "Pulse is still a touch elevated. One more good one should flush the last of it out of her system completely."
He pulled his wet finger from your mouth with a
slick pop. A string of saliva connected his glove to your lower lip, stretching thin, then breaking.
Your mouth stayed open, seeking, needy so Joel planted open mouthed kisses on the corner of your lips.
"S'so much, Joel," you whined, the words slurred and breathless. Your voice cracked. "S'too much. Can't—can't take—"
"I know, babygirl." Joel leaned in and pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips stayed there, warm and steady. "I know. But you can. You're almost there. One more. Just one more for us."
"Gonna be a good girl for me?" He asked. "For Doctor Abbott, too?"
Joel glanced over at Jack, catching the faint flush rising in his cheeks. Jack swallowed dropping his gaze, and that tiny, embarrassed gesture pulled a low chuckle out of Joel.
You whined, nodding your head quickly. Your head lulled back, dropping to Jack's neck and looking up at him.
"Are you?" he murmured, looking at you, the words slipping out before he could stop them—quiet, direct, and meant only for you.
Joel’s brows lifted, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.
Your eyes went wide at his question. You nodded before you even realized you were doing it, breath catching as you stayed pressed against him.
Then, before you could turn around, Joel started thrusting upwards again. Slow, deep, deliberate.
Each stroke was a long drag against your walls, a languid exploration of the slick, hot grip of your cunt.
Jack started matching him, finding the counterpoint rhythm—sliding deeper as Joel pulled back, filling the space Joel left. His eyes were still on you, steady, nodding against the thrusts and counting them.
The fullness was overwhelming, the stretch a perfect pressure that occupied every empty inch inside you.
A whine broke from your mouth. Your head stayed on Jacks shoulder, while your eyes landed on Joels face again.
He grunted, speeding his hips, calloused hands on your thighs moving you to the rhythm he built.
"Someone's close," Jack said, his voice low.
"She is," Joel agreed breathless, hair falling damp to his forehead. "My sweet girl."
You moaned—sweet, broken, the sound rising from your chest like a prayer. Your head fell still Jack's shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed. Sweat glistened on your skin, beaded on your collarbone, trickled between your breasts.
Jack's hands slid up your damp stomach then.
They were slow, exploratory, tracing the lines of your ribs, the soft swell of your belly.
His palms cupped your breasts, lifting them slightly, feeling their weight. His thumbs found your nipples—hard pebbles against the cool latex of his gloves. He rolled them gently, watching your face for reaction.
"These are also very sensitive," he observed. The clinical observation was a thin veneer over the raw truth—he just wanted his hands on you. And he started to become bold enough to do so.
His thumbs circled and circled, pressed and pressed while pinched ever so lightly.
You whimpered, your hips bucking upward, grinding against Joel's thrusts.
"They are," Jack repeated, more to himself. "Good. That's good."
Joel watched your face, his pace quickening. A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and a vein stood out on his neck.
"Look at me, darlin'. C'mon. Let me see those eyes."
You forced your lids open. Joel's gaze was locked on yours—dark, tender, burning.
"There you go," He growled. "Look at my babygirl...enjoying herself on two cocks, yea?"
Your cheeks flushed red at his words, closing your eyes again.
The slick, wet sounds of your bodies filled the room. Jack's fingers stayed on your nipples, rolling, tugging, pinching in rhythm with the thrusts.
"Hey, look at me." Jack said behind you, firm.
You did, looking into his eyes lazily.
"You're close. I need you to focus on us, is that clear?" He asked, eyes searching for any discomfort in your face.
Your eyes went wide at the sudden firmness in his voice. You nodded quickly, breath catching as you tried to steady your focus on him like he asked.
Joel let out a low, hum. “Yeah,” he said, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. “Listen to him.”
The pressure was building again—impossible, overwhelming. You were close, just like Jack said. Your thighs trembled. Your belly tightened. A hot coil wound in your core, drawing tighter with every stroke.
"C'mon," Joel urged, his voice dropping to a growl. "Give it to me, sweetheart. Let go. I'll catch you."
Jack's hips slapped against your ass, faster now, deeper. "Cum for us, sweetheart." he whispered against your ear. "Release it all. One more time."
And you did.
A hot gush came out of you—not a trickle, not a spasm, but a flood. It poured from your cunt, soaking Joel's cock, your thighs, his lap, the blanket beneath you.
A broken cry tore from your throat, raw and desperate, as you squirted hard, the release feeling like the fever finally leaving your body.
Your vision went white.
"Fuck," Jack groaned. He pulled out in one slick motion, the condom still snug on his cock. He ripped it off, stroking himself twice, three times, and spilled into the latex with a raw, shuddering groan that seemed to come from deep in his chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Joel's arms were around you instantly.
He dragged you flush against his sweaty chest, your weight settling on top of him as he fell back against the couch cushions.
He was still inside you, buried deep, and he didn't stop. He thrusted up into you—four powerful, driving strokes, each one hitting that perfect, swollen spot.
"One more, sweetheart. C'mon. One more for me." He whispered into your ear.
You squirted again—a weaker gush, a final release that flooded his belly and pooled beneath you. You cried out, burying your face into his neck.
Joel let out a guttural grunt, his hips stuttering as he came, hot and thick, pumping into you with a desperate, possessive rhythm. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place.
Your body went limp, boneless, slack against Joel's chest. Your face burrowed into the hollow of his throat, into the damp, salty warmth of his skin.
His heartbeat thudded against your cheek, strong and steady.
The world finally went soft, and your body relaxed.
Jack on the other hand, moved with quiet efficiency besides you. His hands were gentle as he pressed two fingers to the hollow of your throat, counting the steady thrum of your pulse.
He lifted one of your eyelids gently, checking your pupil response. A small flashlight flickered in his hand—when had he grabbed it? You had no idea. He pressed his palm to your forehead, your cheek, the side of your neck.
"She's asleep," he confirmed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Completely out. Pulse is seventy-two. Pupils reactive. Skin temperature normal. Pollen's probably fully out. She's going to be just fine."
Joel's arm tightened around you, a possessive, protective reflex.
He pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head, breathing you in. His hand came up to stroke your hair, smoothing the damp strands away from your face.
"God damn," he said to the ceiling, his voice a worn-out rasp. "That was wild."
He turned his head. Jack was on his feet, pulling his jeans up his hips, fastening his belt. Reaching for his flannel shirt. His movements were precise, unhurried, but there was a tremor in his hands that betrayed the cost of control.
"Thank you," Joel said. "No more bunnies for this Honeygirl."
Jack paused mid-motion, chuckling, his hand on the collar of his shirt. He looked at Joel, then at your sleeping form, tucked into the curve of Joel's throat. Your lips were parted, your breath even and deep.
He gave a single nod.
All that needed to be said, understood perfectly between them.
He finished buttoning his shirt and padded quietly into the kitchen. The faucet ran. A glass clinked. He was already preparing water for when you woke up, already thinking ahead.
Joel held you closer, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles.
He pressed another kiss to your hair, then let his eyes close, just for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing, the proof that you were safe.
The way i googled the weirdest things guys...i've literally learned so much about the body LMFAO. if anybody sees my history they would think i've gone crazy. Also this is definitely not an excuse to write medical kink no no🫣
I hope this met some expectations, i'm still very very new to writing Jack abbott so please bear with me!!!
Jackson! Joel Miller (43) x Patrol Partner Female Reader (23)
warnings: 18+ smut: big age gap, role playing, p in v, unprotected sex, spanking, gagging, blow job, throat fucking, hair pulling, cream pie, riding, dirty talk, praise kink, and size kink.
summary: you and joel are on patrol together when you are assigned to check out a college campus. you decide to tease him by calling him professor.
wc: 2.1k
A/N: was playing tlou and thought of this idea when they went through the college sooooo here’s this!! enjoy!!!
You and Joel had been patrol partners for about a year now.
What the people of Jackson didn’t know was that you guys were doing way more than just killing clickers and catching smugglers.
You guys were having mind-blowing sex.
Sometimes it was against a tree.
“Fuck baby girl, you’re gripping me so tight.” He moaned out.
Sometimes he had you bent over the hood of an abandoned car.
“Shit, Joel, right there! Fuck-!” You cried while he was pounding you from behind.
Today was different.
Tommy had gotten a call that some clickers were seen down at a college campus just North of the usual route, and you two were the lucky ones assigned to check it out.
“Stay close, baby. We don’t know what’s out there.” Joel had told you.
You were walking a little behind him, fantasizing about what it would’ve been like to go to college. Everything you knew about it had come from movies.
“Joel?” You called out to him. “Did you ever go to college?”
He stops for a second and continues walking. “For about year.”
“Why only a year?” You asked.
“Well, that’s when my girlfriend at the time got pregnant, so I put all my time into working to be able to support my family. There wasn’t much time for school anymore.”
Joel had told you about Sarah. How right after her mother had given birth, she handed her off to Joel and was never seen again. He became a single father who put his whole heart into making sure his child had a good life. Then the night the outbreak hit, a soldier had shot her. He doesn’t talk about her much and you never pry.
There was a short beat of silence until you spoke up.
“What did you study?”
“I was studyin’ to become an english professor.”
Hot, you thought to yourself. You could see Joel as a professor, all the girls taking his class just to stare at him and hear that deep voice of his. You get a little jealous just thinking about it.
You both walk up the steps and into one of the buildings. Joel looks back at you with his pointer finger over his lips in a “shh” motion.
A clicker was just down the hall. He crouches down and walks forward with a shiv in hand. He sneaks up behind it and stabs it right in the neck, dropping it to the floor.
He stands there for a second before whispering over to you.
“I’m going to clear out the building. I want you to stay here, you hear me?” You look up at him with worried eyes.
“But, Joel,” You try to argue with him.
“There’s no buts, baby, I’ll be fine. You have your gun, right?” You nod. “Use it if needed. I’ll come back down here to get you. Don't wander off.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.” And with that, he walks up the stairs, leaving you by yourself.
You hear a few gunshots, and although you’re nervous, you know Joel can take care of himself.
Around 15 minutes later, Joel comes walking down the stairs and over to you.
“I told you I’d be back.” He says before he pulls you into a kiss. You stop before you get too carried away.
“I want to see a real-life college classroom. Will you take me to one?” You ask with your hands on his chest, while his rest on your lower back.
“There are plenty of them in here. Follow me.”
He leads you up the stairs and through one of the doors. You walk in and notice all the seats. There have to be over 200 of them.
“Whoa, this is huge.” You guys walk down towards the front of the room, where the professor taught. “I can’t believe professors would teach this many students at a time.”
Joel walks over to the professor's desk and takes a seat on the rolling chair.
“Professor Miller, that has a nice ring to it.” You say while observing the materials on the desk.
He laughs at that. “Can’t believe this could’ve been my future. Teaching a class this big. Now that I’m sitting up here, I’m not sure I would have liked all those eyes on me.”
You look at him from the other side of the desk.
“If I had you as a professor, I would sit right up front. Maybe wear a super short skirt and spread my legs a little so you could see what was between them.” You smile and walk to stand in front of him.
“Is that so?” He looks you up and down, his eyes dark.
You drop to your knees, suddenly feeling super horny from seeing him sitting in the professor's chair. “Yeah, I would probably get to your class early and sneak under here.” You start to crawl under neath the desk. He rolls his chair back to face the front. “Just so I could tease you while you taught.”
“Hmm.” He looks down at your face between his legs, resting against his thigh. “What exactly would ya’ be doing?”
“Well, first, I would rub you over your pants just like this.” He inhales quick. “And then I would pull your cock out of your pants and suck you off while students started coming in. They wouldn’t know I was down here: you’d have to just take it.”
“Show me, baby.”
Your hands go up to the button of his jeans to release him. His cock is already hard and ready for you from hearing all the dirty things you were telling him.
One of your favorite things about him was how big and thick his cock was. You could never seem to fit the entire thing in your mouth. You had to use both your hands and mouth at the same time to pleasure him, and when he was inside you, it felt like you were being split in half.
While never breaking eye contact, you lean forward to place a soft kiss right on the tip, pre-come smearing across your lips.
He jerks in his seat. “Fuck, doll, keep goin’.”
“You want me to suck you off, professor?” Blood rushes straight to his cock, you feel it twitch against your hand. You giggle, “You like it when I call you professor?”
You don’t let him respond because you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out.
“Shit, baby, so perfect.” He breaks eye contact by throwing his head back.
You swirl your tongue around him before popping your lips off. You lick a long strip from the base to the tip, then take him back into your mouth. You feel him thrust his hips a little, making you gag.
“Fuck, sorry, baby. It just feels so good.” He looks at your watery eyes.
You’re so turned on from the role-playing that you decide to try something new. Something you know Joel has been wanting to try out, but you’ve been too scared of.
“Fuck my throat.” His eyes look like they are going to budge out of his head. He sends you a look of ‘are you sure’ so you nod with a smile.
He wastes no time in shoving his cock into your mouth. “Mmm, my baby wants her professor to fuck her throat for the whole class to see.” He thrusts quickly, your hands gripping his thighs to stabilize yourself. “My good little student.”
You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter just from his praise and dirty talk. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, so you take off your jeans, leaving you in your white cotton panties.
You snake your hand down the front of your panties and start rubbing your clit while he fucks your throat. Drool is spilling out from the sides of your lips, and your eyes are hooded from the relief of your fingers playing with your pussy.
You moan on his cock, sending vibrations to his tip. He notices you playing with yourself, which makes him thrust faster into your mouth.
“Fuck, baby. Keep doing that. Play with your pussy for me.” You feel him starting to twitch, his release coming soon. Your cries get louder as you’re close to reaching your end, too. “I’m gonna come down this tight little throat of yours, baby. You’re gonna take every last drop I give ya’. Come with me.” He says as warm spurts coat the back of your throat and you're coming on your fingers.
The sounds coming from this room are erotic. You both moan as loud as you want, not having to worry about anyone hearing you.
Your lips are glossy and swollen, face covered in drool as you swallow his come. “You taste so good, professor.” You say as you wipe your face with your hand.
Joel’s cock is already halfway hard again just from the view in front of him. “C’mere.” He pats his thighs. “I want my dirty little student to ride me.”
You push the chair back and get up from under the desk. You put your knees on each side of his thighs and sink down slowly on his cock.
You both look into each other's eyes, crying out at the sensitive feeling of being connected to one another after just having orgasms.
“You’re so big, professor. I don’t know if I can take it.” You nuzzle your face into his neck, overwhelmed by how full you feel from being on top.
“I know ya’ can, baby.” he rubs his rough hands over your back, trying to soothe you. You finally bottom out, sitting on him for a few moments to adjust. He grips your hips and guides you to start moving up and down his length. “I want ya’ to bounce on my cock.”
You start to move on your own. “Like this, professor?”
“Yes, there ya’ go, that’s my good girl.”
He moves his hands to cup your breasts over your shirt as you quicken your pace. You pussy pulses on Joel’s cock, he knows you're close again. He spits on his fingers before putting them down between your bodies. His finger circles your throbbing clit.
“Oh my god! That feels so good! I’m gonna-,” Your vision fades to black as your pussy grips onto him. He gives you a second before he slowly slips out of you and brings you to stand.
“You did so good for me.” He kicks the rolling chair out of the way and bends you over the desk. You feel his hard length hit your backside. “Will my slut of a student let me take her from behind?” He drags his tip through your folds.
All you can do is whimper in response, tired from the two orgasms you had back to back. But he doesn’t like that.
You feel a hard smack against your ass. “Answer me.”
“Yes, professor! I want you to fuck me from behind.” He shoves his cock into your pussy once more, while your face is against the desk. “Fuck!”
This angle allows him to hit your G-spot over and over again. You feel his hand wrap around your pony tail, pulling you to arch against his chest.
“You’re so fucking tight, just milking my cock.” He pounds into your wet pussy. “I’m not going to last long. I want you to come with me, baby.”
You nod and start playing with your clit again. It’s overly sensitive, but it feels too good to stop. His hand releases your hair, making you drop back onto the desk.
You feel that bubble about to pop when you scream out, “I’m coming, Joel, Fuck!”
He slams his hips harder than he has before and spills into you. “Shit, baby. Take every last drop.” He says as he slows down his pace.
Your guy's pants fill the quiet room.
Joel takes his flannel off and wipes his cock off before buttoning up his jeans. He sets you on the desk and looks at your pussy. “Prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.” He says while he watches his come drip down your slit. You blush as he cleans you up.
“Joel Miller, come in.” You both look at the walkie-talkie that he has clipped onto his jeans. He grabs it.
“I’m here, what do ya’ need Tommy.”
“Fuck, Joel. Where are you guys? It’s been hours, almost sent out Ellie and Dina to check on you two.” You giggle up at him while he rolls his eyes.
“We’re good Tommy, no need for that. Just finished up at the campus. No more infected. We are on our way back now.” He tells him as you are putting your pants back on.
“Alright, well, hurry back, dinner is soon. Maria will be pissed if you miss. Again.”
“Will do,” Joel says and clips the walkie-talkie back on his jeans.
You step up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.
Warnings/Content: MDNI, 18+. Dirty talk, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of a toy (vibrator), unprotected piv (wrap it before you use it), fingering, doggy style, Joel the pussy muncher, p without much plot, aftercare. Let me know if I miss any.
Summary: After a few days of Joel working late with patrols, watch duty or contacting duties for Jackson's safety, comes with the price of not being able to spend as much time with you as he'd like. Since today is his day off, the two of you spent it being lazy, staying at home, ending with the perfect nighttime routine you had missed.
A/N: Thank you @finnthecat for your lovely request here. Apologies for this taking so long. I had major writer's block and took a small break from writing. I hope you enjoy. Special thank you to @cozymochaa for beta-reading this, love you 🥰💕
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Give Me Another
"Joel... c'mon," you whined, fingers tugging the strands of his hair where his head was between your legs.
He hummed against you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he began to work his tongue against your clit in slow, deliberate circles.
Today was the first day in weeks that you and Joel were able to just relax and spend time together. The community had been busier than normal with the new improvements Tommy and Maria wanted put into the community, so because of being Tommy’s brother, Joel had been pulled in every direction.
"You taste so good," he murmured against you. "Like damn heaven between these legs." Your hips began to rock against his face, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of everything.
One of his hands released your thigh, and you felt his fingers probing at your entrance while his other hand slid up to your lower stomach, pressing down firmly to hold you still. “Easy, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and rough.
“You’re gonna take what I give you. No more, no less.” Two of his thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, stretching you open. Joel’s mouth never left your clit — sucking, licking, flicking — while his fingers curled deep inside you, stroking that spongy spot that made your vision spark white and your back arch. He ate you like a man starved for his favorite meal, and to Joel, having you like this was one of his favorite things.
His beard scratched deliciously against your inner thighs, his tongue broad and flat one moment before turning pointed and relentlessly dragging through your folds.He groaned into you, hips grinding slowly against the mattress. “Fuck… Joel,” you whined, thighs starting to shake around his head.
Your hips tried to grind closer to his mouth, but the hand on your stomach kept you pinned in place. “That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped against your core, his breath warm against your heated skin. “Squeezin’ my fingers so good. Greedy lil’ pussy. Give it to me, baby.”
Your orgasm crashed through you, thighs clamping around his head and fingers curling tight in his hair, pulling a deep groan from Joel. His tongue continued its relentless pace on your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you were twitching and whimpering from the overstimulation.
When you finally sagged back into the mattress, breaths heavy, Joel pulled back. His mouth and beard glistened with your slick. “Good girl,” he praised, kissing a wet trail from your core, up your stomach, before settling between your breasts. He slid a hand up your side and cupped the underside of one breast as his mouth covered the nipple.
He sucked gently at first, then harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while his fingers teased the other. You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he finally lifted his head. “Turn over, baby. On your hands and knees for me. Ass up.”
His voice was low and rough with desire he couldn’t hide. You obeyed on shaky limbs, settling into position as he knelt behind you. Joel ran his large hands over the curve of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively before spreading you open. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Just drippin’ for me.”
He leaned over to the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out the familiar vibrator. The low hum filled the room as he turned it on. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this since that night,” he said, voice dark. “You fuckin’ yourself with it, moanin’ my name, wishin’ it was me.”
You hummed softly in response as he slid the vibrating head from your folds up to your clit, applying light pressure that drew a needy whine from your lips. “Joel—” you started, but he cut you off.“Shhh, I got you, darlin’.” He leaned over your back, his broad, warm chest pressing against you, and kissed your shoulder.
“Gonna make you come so many times you forget your own name.” The fat, swollen head of his cock nudged at your entrance. Joel was big — thick, heavy, veined, with that slight upward curve that always hit everything just right. He rubbed it up and down your slit, coating every inch in your slick until it glistened. “Gorgeous,” he muttered, then slowly pushed inside.
The wide head popped past your entrance with a wet sound, followed by the heavy, veined shaft that stretched you open. You moaned loudly into the mattress as he sank deeper, filling you completely until his hips were flush against your ass and his heavy balls rested against your clit.
“Fuuuck,” Joel groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. “So tight. This greedy little cunt is suckin’ me right in.” He stayed buried deep for a moment before he began thrusting — long, deep strokes that dragged his thick cock along every sensitive spot inside you.
The vibrator stayed pressed firmly to your clit on the lowest setting, the constant buzzing mixing with the wet slap of his hips against your ass.“That’s it… take my cock,” he muttered, one hand gripping your hip hard while the other held the vibrator steady.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, burying your face into the pillow, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. “Come on, baby. Come on my cock,” he coaxed, voice rough but sweet. “Let me feel this pussy squeeze me. That’s a good girl… give it to me.”
Your second orgasm hit hard. Your walls clamped down around his thick shaft, pulsing and fluttering as pleasure tore through your overstimulated body. Joel fucked you through it without slowing, groaning at the way your cunt milked him. “Good girl… such a good fuckin’ girl. Keep comin’. Don’t you stop.” He clicked the vibrator higher. The sudden increase in intensity made you cry out, your hips instinctively trying to pull away, but Joel’s strong hands held you firmly in place.
“No runnin’, darlin’. You’re gonna take it all.”
He starts thrusting into you harder, deep, punishing strokes that make your ass ripple with every impact. His heavy balls slap rhythmically against your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensations of his thick cock stretching you and the vibrator buzzing relentlessly against your swollen nub.
“Joel… fuck—” you moan brokenly, cheek pressed into the pillow, fingers clawing at the sheets. The pleasure is bordering on too much, your body still twitching from the previous orgasms, but he doesn’t let up.
“I know, baby,” he groans, voice low and rough against your ear as he leans over you, his broad chest covering your back. One of his big hands slides under you to press down on your lower stomach, making you feel every thick inch of him even more. “I know it’s a lot. But you’re doin’ so good for me. This pretty pussy is takin’ me so well.”
He clicks the vibrator up another setting. The stronger vibrations rip a sharp cry from your throat as your hips jerk. Joel’s other hand grips your hip tighter, holding you exactly where he wants you while he fucks you with long, powerful strokes. “C’mon darlin’, I know you got it in you.”
“Fuck… ‘s too much,” you protest weakly, even as your walls flutter and clench greedily around his cock.
“You can take it,” he growls against your neck, hips snapping harder. His thick, veined cock drags along your walls with every thrust, the slight upward curve hitting that perfect spot over and over. “Give me another, baby. Let me feel you come again.”
The overstimulation is intense now — every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as another orgasm builds fast and merciless. Your thighs shake violently, and your pussy keeps fluttering around his girth. “That’s it,” Joel praises, voice rough but sweet.
“Feel my cock stretchin’ you open? Feel how full you are? This greedy little cunt is suckin’ me so deep, darlin’. You were made for this.” He keeps talking you through it, his breath hot against your skin. “Let go for me. Come on my cock while this vibrator’s buzzin’ on your swollen clit. I wanna feel you soak me again.”
The combination is too much. You come hard with a broken scream, your entire body seizing as your walls clamp down around his thick cock like a vice. Joel groans loudly, fucking you through every wave, never slowing his pace. “Good girl… fuck, that’s my good girl,” he rasps, voice strained with pleasure.
“Keep squeezin’ me just like that. So fuckin’ tight.”He doesn’t pull the vibrator away. Instead, he presses it harder against your pulsing clit, forcing you to ride out the overstimulation as he keeps pounding into you. Your moans turn into desperate whimpers, body trembling uncontrollably beneath him.
“One more, baby,” he coaxes, kissing your shoulder, then biting down gently. Joel holds you up with strong hands, fucking you through it with deep, steady thrusts until your release gushes around his cock.
Only then does he finally pull the vibrator away and toss it aside. He wraps both arms around you, pulling your back flush against his chest as he chases his own release with shorter, harder thrusts. “Gonna fill you up, darlin’,” he groans into your neck, voice wrecked. “Gonna pump this sweet pussy full. You ready?”
You manage a weak, broken “yes” - all you can muster before he buries himself to the hilt with a deep, guttural moan. His thick cock pulses hard inside you as he comes, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He grinds deep, making sure every drop stays inside you, his cock twitching as he empties himself completely.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breathing and his low groans. Joel stays buried inside you, pressing soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck while his hands gently stroke your trembling body.
“You okay, darlin’?” He finally asks, breaths uneven as he remains draped over your back.
You slowly nod and after he presses a few more kisses along your neck and shoulder before slowly pulling out. He helps you shift onto your back, brushing stray strands of hair back before making his way to the bathroom. A moment passes where the room settles in quiet before Joel walks back to the bedroom, a small clean towel in his hand.
He returns to your side, bringing the towel between your thighs. You wince slightly - sensitive at the contact. “You did so good for me, baby,” he murmurs the praise, pressing a kiss against your temple, before pressing one to your lips. “My perfect girl. Took everything I gave you like you were made for it.”
You smile against his lips before letting out a soft, relaxed breath as he gently wipes your inner thighs before setting the towel aside. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.
You wrap an arm around his waist, head resting on his chest just under his chin. The two of you are silent for a while, his hand gently rubbing along your arm before moving to your hair. “I hate when I’m too busy for nights like this with you.”
“I know,” you mumble, tilting your head up in his direction. “But it makes it worth it.”
He turns his head in your direction, nodding his head once he presses his lips against the top of your head, “Sure does,” he mutters, pulling the blanket up to cover the two of you, tucking it around you to make sure you’re warm.
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𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.
𝘼/𝙉: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!
“Her.”
Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”
Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.”
“And?”
“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.
“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.”
“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??”
Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him.
That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies” money. Yeah, they didn’t pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.
Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.
“Well, what about that one?”
Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through.
Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.
You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.
“Who is she?”
“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.
“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.
“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”
“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”
Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any.
Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable.
He licks his lips.
“How long?”
“Huh?”
He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.
Topper raises an eyebrow.
“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”
Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”
They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—
“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and—
“A week.”
“Mm?”
“A week to fuck her. With proof.”
Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it.
“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”
“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.
“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”
Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.
You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.
He’d have fun ruining you.
***
“You sure do love reading, don’t you?”
It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.
You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.
“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”
Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…”
“You find books more interesting than people?”
“Huh?”
He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug.
“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—
“Are you making fun of me?”
You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes.
“What?”
You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.”
“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds.
“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”
Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more.
“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.
“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”
“I’ll be your friend.”
He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive.
You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too.
“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”
“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.
It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that.
“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.
“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.
“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means…
“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.
You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?”
He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right.
“You could call it studying.”
You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing.
“What’s your name, homeschool?”
You tell him.
He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”
You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it.
Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could.
That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.
***
Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.
You’re alone. As usual.
“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.
“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.”
“What’re you up to today?”
“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”
He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?
“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect.
“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”
He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way.
“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”
“Friends?” You don’t have any.
“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”
Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.”
Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.
He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.
“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”
Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue.
“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”
He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…
“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.
“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.
“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”
“Say it. Now.”
You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.”
The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this.
“Huh. Is that so?”
“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”
Rafe nods, “Hmm.”
“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“
“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”
You blink, “What?”
He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”
“It’s not that–”
“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”
He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.
“I asked you a question, homeschool.”
“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”
“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.
“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”
He stops, allows you to catch up.
“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”
“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”
You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”
“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”
*
Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…
”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.
“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.
“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”
He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.
Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.
“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.
“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.
“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”
“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”
You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”
He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”
You look aghast, “No! I would never–”
“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”
“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”
“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”
You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.
“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”
“Thank you.”
“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.
“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”
He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.
He nods, “You look pretty.”
Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”
He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.
*
On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.
“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.
Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.
“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.
“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”
Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”
He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.
“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”
Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.
“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.
“No?”
“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”
Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.
“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.
You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”
“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.
“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”
The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.
“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.
You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”
You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”
He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.
Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.
“Rafe?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”
That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”
You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”
“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.
“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.
“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”
It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.
“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”
He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.
“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.
“Wow, that was cool!”
“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”
Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.
He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.
“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”
He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”
That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.
He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.
He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…
He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.
*
On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.
“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”
You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.
“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”
Rafe grins, “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”
He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.
“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”
You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.
“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”
But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.
“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.
Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”
“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”
He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”
“You sure about that?”
He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”
Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.
All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.
You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.
*
Rafe: Hey.
Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?
He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.
Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.
Rafe: What are you up to?
A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.
Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?
It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.
He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.
“H-Hello?”
“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”
He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?
“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”
A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”
“What like vacuuming and shit?”
“Yes.”
Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.
He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.
“Uh, Rafe?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.
A pause.
“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”
“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”
“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.
He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.
“I’d rather speak to you than them.”
“That’s not true, Rafe.”
“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”
“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”
“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.
“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”
“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”
“You’re funny, Rafe.”
You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.
“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.
“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”
He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.
“A-Are you still there?”
“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–
“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.
“Rafe?”
He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.
“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.
“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”
“Like, uh, at your house?”
“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”
That just makes him even more determined to be your first.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”
“Rafe…”
He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.
“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”
That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.
“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.
“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”
*
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”
Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.
“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.
“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.
“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”
Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”
Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”
“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”
“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”
“What?”
Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”
“Well, yeah, but –”
“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”
“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”
Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.
He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”
Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”
Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.
“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”
“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”
That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”
Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.
He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.
That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.
“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”
“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.
You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”
“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”
He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.
“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.
“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”
“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.
He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.
You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.
“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.
Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.
Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”
Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”
He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”
“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”
He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.
“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.
You blink, “Um, water?”
He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”
“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”
“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”
You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.
“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.
“People have been talking about me to you?”
“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”
He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.
“Do you always drink after school?”
“Huh?”
“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”
“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”
He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.
Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.
“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”
Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”
He shrugs, “A few.”
You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”
“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.
“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”
Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.
“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”
You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”
“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”
He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.
“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.
You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”
“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”
“Hey!”
He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.
You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”
Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”
You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”
Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”
Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”
He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.
Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”
He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”
He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.
He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”
Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”
He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.
“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”
Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…
“There. Comfy?”
“Well, I guess, but…”
He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.
He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.
And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.
When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.
“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”
Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”
“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”
Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.
Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.
He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.
And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.
“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”
“Rafe, maybe not too much–”
“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.
“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.
“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”
He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.
Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”
You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”
“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.
It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.
Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.
“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.
“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”
He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–
“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”
He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”
He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”
Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”
Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.
“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.
It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.
“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”
Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.
“That’s okay,” he says.
You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”
Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.
You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”
Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.
Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”
He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”
“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”
Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.
He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.
“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”
What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.
“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.
Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.
You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.
Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.
Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.
*
Kelce: One day left, loverboy.
Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.
Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.
Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.
He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.
That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.
Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.
How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.
The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.
He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–
His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.
“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”
“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”
“I’m scared.”
You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.
“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”
He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”
“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”
“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”
“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”
They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.
“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”
“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”
He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”
“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”
Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.
“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”
Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.
“Rafe! You came!”
You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.
“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.
At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.
“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”
It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.
“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.
“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.
“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”
“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”
He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.
You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.
Despite everything, his dick hardens.
“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”
He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”
You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”
You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.
He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.
He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.
“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”
“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”
“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.
“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”
You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”
He smirks, “I could distract you.”
“H-How?”
He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.
“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.
“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”
You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.
“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”
“H-Huh–”
“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”
You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”
It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.
He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.
Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.
“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”
He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”
“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”
“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”
Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”
He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”
“Y-You.”
“Yeah. And who’s older?”
“You are.”
“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”
You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.
Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.
He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.
He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.
“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.
“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”
“Stand up, baby.”
You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.
You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.
“Take your leggings off.”
You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.
You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.
“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”
“Wh-What?”
“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.
“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”
“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”
He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.
“Stand up straight, look at me again.”
You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.
“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.
Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.
And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.
His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.
“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”
You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”
God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.
“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”
“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?
Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.
You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.
“You have an accident, princess?”
You look absolutely aghast, “No!”
Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.
“Oh my God–”
He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”
“What?”
“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”
For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”
“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”
He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”
He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.
“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”
Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.
Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.
“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”
“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”
Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.
“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.
Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.
“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.
“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–
You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.
And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.
“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”
Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.
“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”
“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”
He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.
“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”
You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”
“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”
It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.
He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.
But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.
“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”
Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.
“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.
“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”
He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”
You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”
“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”
Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.
He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.
“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.
You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”
He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.
“Take it out.”
“N-No!”
He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”
“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”
“Well, yes, but–”
“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”
You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”
He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”
As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”
You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”
“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”
You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.
“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”
You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”
“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”
In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.
“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”
“I am?”
“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.
“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.
Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”
“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.
“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.
“Yeah?”
Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”
God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.
Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.
“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”
‘I don’t know.”
SMACK.
Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”
“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”
“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”
You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”
“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.
You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.
“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”
He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.
“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.
But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.
“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”
It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.
“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.
“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”
‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”
“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”
Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.
“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.
“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”
“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”
“But it hurts!”
“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”
A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”
“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”
“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.
Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”
You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”
“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”
You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”
He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.
“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”
You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.
“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.
“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”
You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.
“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”
“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“
You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.
“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”
All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.
It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.
Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.
“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”
The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”
He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.
That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.
“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”
“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”
“Nooo…”
He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.
“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…
He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…
“Rafe, I… please…”
“Baby…”
His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–
“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”
“Fuck.”
Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.
He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”
“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“Y-You’re not mad?”
He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.
“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”
“You pr-promise?”
“I promise.”
He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.
You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.
The wind laughs and laughs all night.
*
The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.
Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.
Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.
He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.
Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.
He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.
What the fuck did that mean?
His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.
That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?
Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.
Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.
Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?
“You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.
*
“There he is! The loverboy himself!”
His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.
“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”
“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”
Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”
He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.
He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.
“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”
“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.
“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.
“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”
“Then show us. That was the deal.”
He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.
“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.
“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”
Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”
He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.
“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”
He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.
And immediately locks eyes with you.
And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.
“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.
A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.
Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.
And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.
𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)
Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?
Should reader forgive Rafe?
Favourite scene/part?
Anyways, that's it. Now I'll anxiously wait to see what you guys think. PLEASE PLEASE consider reblogging this fic if you plan on liking it and want me to continue it. Thanks so much for all your support when I posted the sneak peek. I hope this lived up to your expectations! <3
nsfw. 40s könig. come eating. pussy slapping. voyeurism. manhandling. degradation. squirting. sex work.
you never planned on doing porn.
you don't think anyone does, really. you had a whole different life mapped out— degree, stable job, retirement.
but college was bleeding you dry. bills stacked faster than you could pay them, textbooks cost more than your monthly groceries, and your financial aid office had the efficiency of a broken vending machine. part-time jobs barely kept the lights on. dinner was whatever was cheap and lasted the longest.
you worked, studied, scraped by, but it felt more like drowning in slow motion.
camming started as an experiment. a shot in the dark born from desperation.
you bought a cheap ring light from amazon, found a secondhand webcam on facebook marketplace, and set up your little filming space in the corner of your apartment. it was nothing fancy. the lighting was bad, the camera wasn’t great, and instead of a tripod you had a stack of books.
but it worked.
you slipped into the only matching lingerie set you owned— soft pink lace, delicate ribbons, tiny bows stitched in all the right places. sheer enough to tease, but still leaving just enough to the imagination. the bra straps slipped down your shoulders as you posed in front of the mirror, lips parted, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.
picking the best ones, you captioned them with something playful then posted them to onlyfans, shut your laptop, and forgot about it. you weren’t expecting much. maybe a few subscribers, a little extra cash, nothing major.
then, your account blew up.
someone with a bit of reach had apparently found your photos and posted them to a a ddlg subreddit, and suddenly you were everywhere.
at first, you didn’t notice. but when you woke up to hundreds of new notifications, dms, and tips flooding in overnight, you started digging.
that’s when you saw it. a post on reddit. thousands of upvotes. hundreds of comments dissecting your photos in excruciating detail.
[r/ddlg] found this new onlyfans girl and i'm losing my mind. she’s so soft. look at her. look at her.
🔺14.3k upvotes 💬 793 comment
u/daddysfavorite456: this is the most perfect little babygirl i’ve ever seen wtf
🔺6.2k
u/sirspanksalot: the way she’s tugging her panties down just a little… i need a moment
🔺4.9k
u/subsugarplum: her little pout in the third pic is actually ruining my life
🔺3.3k
u/softdom_daddy: how do we make sure she never pays for anything again in her life?
🔺7.1k
your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled. every detail of your photos was being analyzed. obsessed over.
the way you tilted your head just slightly, eyes wide and doe-like. the way your fingers curled in the hem of your panties, like you were hesitating. like you needed permission. the little pout in the last photo, lower lip caught between your teeth, the faintest furrow in your brows.
suddenly, your subscriber count was doubling by the hour.
new subscribers flooded in overnight. your follower count jumped by thousands. dms piled up, requests, tips, compliments, outright begging.
"you're perfect. please let me take care of you." ($20 tip)
"you’re the softest little thing i’ve ever seen." ($50 tip)
"tell me you do custom videos. i’ll pay whatever." ($100 tip)
the sudden influx of attention was overwhelming. you barely had time to process it before people were demanding more.
demand skyrocketed. they were practically clawing at your metaphorical door, begging for more content, more variety— more, more, more.
for now, solo work was fine. it was safe. comfortable. easy to control. but you knew it wouldn’t be enough forever. you saw it in the comments, in the messages, in the ever-growing list of requests. they wanted more than just you and a camera. they wanted another presence. another body in the frame.
you debated your options. a studio would be the safest bet. you had the budget now— painstakingly built, every small tip, every renewal adding up until you finally had enough that you didn't need to comprise comfort.
but finding the right studio was another thing entirely.
you didn’t want the overproduced, garish lights and cheap theatrics of mainstream porn. you wanted subtlety. intimacy. something with taste. good lighting, soft edits, angles that captured the feeling rather than just the act.
something that matched the persona you had so carefully built.
you thought about it for weeks before finally bringing it up to valeria, a girl you often had collabs with.
she tilted her head when you mentioned it. "professional production..? you know there are a lot of seedy guys out there."
you nodded, worrying your lip between your teeth. you’d done enough research to know that most so-called "professional" setups were just glorified scams, with sleazy directors who treated performers like props.
valeria watched you for a second, then clicked her tongue. "but, if you ever actually follow through, i know a guy. a lot of the girls have worked with him before. big name in the business. respects his actors. good guy." she pulled out her phone. "i’ll send you his portfolio. put in a good word."
you meet könig a few weeks later, after countless back-and-forth emails, late-night calls hammering out details, discussions about setups, plot points, pricing. every conversation had been strictly professional so far and you appreciated the distinct lack of attempts to try and get in your pants.
you don’t expect to spot him the moment you step into the airbnb you rented for the shoot, but there he is, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crew. and the first thing that strikes you isn’t his height (though jesus, he’s massive). it’s how out of place he looks.
he doesn’t carry himself like someone in the industry. doesn’t exude that easy sleaze, that over-familiar smirk you’ve come to expect from men in this business. no tight black tee straining over biceps, no carefully curated air of supremacy with just a hint of nicotine.
instead, he looks like someone’s dad who got lost on his way to a hardware store and somehow ended up in the adult industry instead.
his glasses are perched high on the bridge of his nose, pushed up with the absentminded shove of a knuckle. his sweater— soft, thick, comfortable— hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with silver hair. he’s dressed like he should be standing at a backyard grill, not directing an erotic film.
he’s older than you expected. forty, according to his portfolio, and he wears it well. silver threading through black, crow’s feet at the corners of sharp, washed-out blue eyes. his nose is crooked— like it had been broken once and never quite set right— makes his face look lived-in, a little rough around the edges. his stubble is light, a soft dusting of salt and pepper.
he looks warm.
he’s talking to someone. one of the crew, maybe, head dipped slightly, listening intently. but even hunched, even relaxed, his sheer size makes him loom.
and then the door clicks shut behind you, and he hears it. könig's head lifts, pale blue eyes settling on you in an instant.
he excuses himself with a quiet murmur. hands tucked into the front pocket of his pants, broad shoulders rolling slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, less imposing.
it doesn’t work.
“good to finally meet you,” he says, accent curling soft in his words.
oh, you think. you hadn’t expected that, either.
his voice is deep, just shy of being harsh. it's a far cry from the sharp tone you’d imagined after hearing him speak over the phone. there’s something smoother about it in person, a warmth undercutting the rough edges.
you shift the tray of coffee in your hands, balancing it carefully before setting it down on the small folding table near the entrance.
“brought coffee for everyone,” you say, wringing your hands because you refuse to brush them off on your dress.
he glances down at the cups, and for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.
“thoughtful,” he murmurs, and though his face remains unreadable, you can hear the approval in his voice.
you exhale, trying to shake off the nervous energy thrumming in your chest, and clear your throat. “figured caffeine would help. don’t wanna be the reason your crew collapses mid-shoot.”
könig huffs something close to a chuckle, tipping his head toward the set-up behind him. “they’ve worked under worse conditions.”
you’re not sure what that means, but before you can ask, he gestures for you to follow him further into the space.
the next few minutes are easy. professional. you go over the shot list, the angles he’s planning, how he likes to work— efficient and minimal retakes unless absolutely necessary. he asks about your preferences, what you don’t want, what you do.
it’s…comfortable. smoother than you expected. he’s patient, but direct. no wasted words, no unnecessary small talk, just the work. you like that.
and then your phone rings.
you pull it from your pocket without thinking, glancing at the name on the screen. simon riley. your co-star. you press accept, bringing the phone to your ear.
“hey, you on your way?” you ask, already stepping away from könig, mind half on the conversation you’d just been having.
but simon doesn’t answer right away. there’s a beat of silence. “can’t make it.”
your stomach drops. you stop short, pulse spiking. “what?”
“somethin’ came up. won’t be able to get there.”
you glance at könig, breath stalling in your throat. this cannot be happening.
“simon, i can’t reschedule,” you hiss, stepping further away, out of earshot. “i already paid for the location, the crew’s already here-”
“nothin’ i can do, sweetheart,” he interrupts, not unkind. “’m sorry.”
but sorry doesn’t fix this. sorry doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t shoot today, you’re out thousands. your grip tightens around your phone. “simon, please-”
the line clicks.
he’s gone.
panic creeps up your spine, cold sweat starting to form on your palms. you can’t not shoot today. you can’t afford it. the budget’s already stretched thin, and a reschedule isn’t just inconvenient— it’s impossible.
you drag a hand to wipe the sweat on your forehead.
könig’s eyes are on you and you can feel the heat of his gaze. when you turn, he asks, “problem?”
you open your mouth, hesitate. because what the fuck are you supposed to say? every option you can think of results in you losing a few hundred dollars at the minimum.
you figure the truth is the best option you've got. “simon's out.”
könig watches as your fingers tighten around your phone, knuckles turning white. you press your lips together, trembling just slightly before biting down.
he tilts his head, slow. "know anyone that can sub in?"
you shake your head immediately, too fast, too frantic. a sharp inhale makes your shoulders rise, lashes fluttering against the unshed tears that suddenly gloss your eyes.
fuck.
you’re going to cry.
könig shouldn’t be looking this closely.
shouldn’t be cataloging every shift of your body. shouldn’t be tracking how your throat works as you swallow, how the delicate line of your jaw tenses under pressure.
it’s detail that shouldn’t register. detail that has no purpose. no place. no right to send his thoughts careening somewhere they have no business going.
but there they go anyway.
because he's been watching you.
not in a way that's creepy— könig tells himself that, over and over. he was just a professional doing his research, getting a feel for his clients. it’s good business practice, staying informed, making sure he knows who he’s working with, what they bring to the table.
and if that research led him to your socials, to hours of footage in soft, honeyed lighting, to endless clips of you sprawled out on pristine white sheets as you mewled into the camera— well. that was just part of the job, wasn’t it?
but the truth, the thing he never says out loud, not even to himself is that he’s spent far too many nights with his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, watching you through the screen.
watching you in those tiny lingerie sets. pink and white lace, frilly little bows, the kind of girlish softness that makes his teeth ache.
könig's watched every fucking video. every stream. every post. hours spent with his laptop open, pants shoved down around his hips, hand working his cock as you bat your lashes and moan so sweetly it makes his head spin.
‘am i a good girl?’ you breathe into the mic, like you’re talking right to him. like you know.
and god, does he know you.
he’s studied you. learned you. mapped out every twitch, every tell, every fleeting flicker of pleasure that crosses your pretty face. the way your brows pinch together when you’re getting desperate. the way your lips part right before you come, glossy and swollen, tongue darting out to wet them like you want something in your mouth, like you’re inviting someone to grab you by the jaw and fuck your throat until you can’t think.
he’s seen how your thighs start to tremble when you edge yourself too long. how your back arches off the sheets when you finally let go, hips rolling into your own hand, breath catching in your throat as you fall apart in a mess of shuddery gasps.
könig has jerked off to all of it.
not just once. not just twice.
so many times he’s lost count.
sometimes slow, drawing it out to hear that little whimper you make at the end— the one that sounds like you’ve been fucked dumb.
sometimes rough. desperate. chasing his own release with one hand fisted in the sheets and the other pumping his cock.
it drives him fucking crazy.
it’s worse up close. worse when you shift on your feet, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, trying to hold yourself together.
stop.
he clenches his fists. drags in a breath through his nose. he is not some fucking rookie. not some kid who can’t keep his head straight.
but then you make a sound that crawls under his skin and sinks deep. and suddenly his thoughts are careening somewhere they shouldn’t go—
places where that breathy little sound is choked out against his palm. where those fingers twisting at your sleeves are scrabbling at his belt instead, pulling, fumbling, desperate.
his cock twitches.
jesus christ.
it’s perverse. it’s wrong. twenty years between you. he shouldn't even be thinking about you like this. but then he thinks about how small your hands would look trying to wrap around his cock. how easily he could press you up against the nearest wall, let you feel how bad he wants you, let you know exactly what you do to him—
and yeah.
he’s fucked.
his grip tightens on the coffee cup, knuckles white, cardboard crumpling in his palm.
"we can reschedule." it’s the logical thing to say. the right thing.
but you stiffen immediately, shaking your head almost violently, like the mere suggestion hurts.
"i can’t." your voice wobbles. "i don’t have the budget for it. the airbnb, the crew- if we don’t shoot today, it’s done. i lose it."
he can hear the distraught in your voice, the panic creeping in, rising in your throat. and könig— könig has never been good at ignoring that kind of thing.
his jaw tightens. his fingers flex. his pulse pounds in his ears. and before he can think better of it—
"i can do it."
your head jerks up, eyes locking onto his. wide. startled.
"what?"
könig lifts a broad shoulder, deceptively casual, ignoring how his pulse is hammering in his throat. acting as if he didn’t just offer himself up like it was nothing.
"i can do it," he repeats. "you need a scene partner."
he pauses, just long enough to make sure you’re really listening before he adds, pointed: "i’ve done worse for less."
it’s true too. könig had started shooting for money, not for passion, not for art. there were years where he took any job that paid, no matter how grimy, no matter how degrading. no dignity in it, no careful framing, no thoughtful direction. just harsh lighting, rough hands, the sound of too many bodies shifting in too little space.
it’s not like that anymore.
now, he works for himself. he makes art, in his own way. he only takes projects that meet his standards, only shoots what he knows will look good.
könig lets out a short, amused breath, tilting his head. "wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t."
your gaze flickers down to his mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.
he notices. of course he fucking notices.
you hesitate, worrying your lip between your teeth, and he wants— god, he wants.
he lifts his coffee, takes a slow sip. watches you.
"think it through," he says, letting the accent curl around the words. "do you trust me?"
you stare at him, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. your fingers tighten around your phone.
and then, even though you probably shouldn't, you nod.
this is insane, is all you can think as your hands smooth down the dress, fingertips catching on the fabric’s delicate weave. it sways when you move, hem teasing the tops of your thighs.
the crew picked it because it feels normal, something someone’s wife might wear on a lazy sunday, waiting for her husband to walk through the door. not lingerie, not tight or short or scandalous. innocent.
somehow, that makes it worse.
the set sprawls before you, carefully crafted to mimic home. the couch sits comfortably worn— or at least looks like it, upholstery creased just enough to suggest years of use. a blanket lies draped over the back, fringes brushed out to seem effortless.
the coffee table holds small artifacts of a life: a half-empty mug with a faint lipstick stain, a book splayed open, pages curled, a pair of keys glinting under the warm overhead glow. off to the side, a framed photo perches, two strangers caught in mid-laugh, frozen happiness you’re supposed to claim as yours.
the lighting bathes it all in amber. soft, forgiving. like sunset spilling through a window that doesn’t exist. everything is designed to feel. to pull the viewer into a scene that isn’t real but wants to be. warmth. comfort. longing.
your pulse trips. nerves coil tight under your. stepping out, you inhale–
and there he is.
könig stands beside the couch, posture loose, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something. the uniform strains against him, fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders and the solid line of his chest. it’s glaringly obvious that it wasn’t tailored for a man like him— you doubt anything ever is— but he wears it like it belongs to him anyway. the belt grips a tapered waist, dog tags resting cold against his sternum. they glint when he shifts, catching the warmth of the lights.
he’s big. that part you knew. everyone knows. but there’s something about seeing him like this, the bulk of him filling the space, boots planted, arms crossed, sleeves clinging to thick forearms, that makes your breath catch in your throat.
he looks like he could hold the world in his hands. break it if he wanted.
then he lifts his head. and his gaze finds you.
it hits like a physical weight, gravity pulling you closer.
his eyes track the line of your body. starting from your face, drifting down, and back up again. for a moment you assume he’s taking inventory, cataloguing details you didn’t know you were offering.
your skin prickles under the attention. heat pooling low, spreading outwards.
könig’s jaw shifts. a muscle ticks. his fingers flex where they rest against his bicep, knuckles pale for half a second before he eases them loose.
you swallow. "do i look okay?"
silence stretches. then: "you look perfect."
his voice sounds like it's been scraped raw from something you can’t name. and you know you shouldn’t take his words to heart. shouldn’t make something out of nothing. he was just being polite—
but god, he doesn’t stop looking.
you breathe out. "are we ready?"
that seems to snap him out. könig exhales, nostrils flaring. “yeah," he says, looking away.. "we’re ready."
you nod and he turns, clapping his hands together.
"quiet on set!" his voice cuts through the chatter. "lights- ready? camera?"
a muffled ‘rolling!’ comes from behind the equipment.
he glances back, stepping into place. "sound?"
"speed!"
he nods, shoulders shifting under the snug uniform. "all right. action on me. three... two..."
his gaze flickers forward, locks onto you. his hand lifts, a silent ‘ready?’
you nod.
"action!"
the front door creaks open.
you see him first— broad shoulders filling the doorway, boots heavy against the worn rug you picked out last fall. his bag drops with a dull thump, keys jangling, and for a beat, you just stand there, watching.
it doesn't feel real. something out of a dream. your husband looks older somehow. tired. lines carved a little deeper around his eyes, hair at his temples brushed with more gray than before.
it's longer now too, the ends curling where sweat and travel have left it mussed.
then his gaze lifts, blue catching yours. and that’s all it takes.
you move.
your feet carry you faster than you realize, dress fluttering against your legs as you throw yourself into him.
könig catches you with a small grunt, part effort, part relief, hardly moving from his spot. strong arms close around you as he lifts you off the floor with an ease that's almost unfair.
his hand finds the back of your thigh, fingers splayed wide. "easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice rough from disuse, deepened by exhaustion and age. there’s an edge to it, earned from years of barking orders and nicotine abuse. "still getting old, you know."
you huff a breath that’s almost a laugh. "you’re not that old."
"hm." könig presses his face into your hair. "tell that to my back."
your chest tightens. god, you missed him. missed the way he smells— soap, leather, that faint trace of cologne you’d tucked into his bag months ago, almost worn off, but still miraculously there. you press your nose to his neck, breathing him in, and whisper, "missed you."
"missed you more." when he pulls back, his gaze traces every line of your face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "lemme take a good look at you, baby."
heat blooms in your cheeks, but you let him. there’s something reverent about his gaze when you meet his eyes.
then, he kisses you.
and fuck.
it’s messy. warm. his mouth is rough against yours, stubble scraping your skin, tasting like coffee burned down to the dregs.
"god," you breathe, voice catching on a gasp. "i love you."
könig chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. "love you too," he murmurs, using that voice he saves for early mornings when you’re tucked against him, trading lazy kisses and whispered secrets.
his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you close. the world tilts, narrows, until there’s nothing but him. his body, his breath, the scratch of his stubble when he tilts his head, brushing his nose against yours.
then his fingers slip under your dress. his breath hitches the moment he finds you bare, his touch grazing soft folds, sticky and warm with slick.
"no panties?" his voice dips somewhere between a laugh and a growl.
heat blooms in your stomach. you bite your lip, shrugging. "figured you'd appreciate it."
his gaze darkens, blue eclipsed by black. "oh, do i."
könig’s fingers slide between your folds, dragging through the slick mess you’ve already made. you flinch at the contact, hips twitching toward him before you can catch yourself.
he pushes it in, slow. the stretch punches a gasp out of you, walls fluttering around the intrusion. he pauses, ignores your whine, brows drawing together, finger knuckle-deep. "did you get tighter?"
his voice is soft, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you, words slipping out under his breath.
his finger curls, pressing snug against your walls, testing just how much resistance it meets.
you whimper, thighs twitching, nails digging into the fabric of his jacket. "m-maybe if you fucked me more, i wouldn’t be."
the words tumble out before you can think to stop them. your pulse skips as you process what you just said. heat floods your face.
könig’s head tilts. his eyes flick up, narrowing, — not angry, not exactly— but his stare steals the breath from your lungs all the same. your lips part, trying to fumble out an apology stuck at the back of your throat when—
slap.
he pulls his finger free and smacks your pussy.
you squeak, body jerking as the sting blooms quick and hot between your legs, warmth spreading through your skin, rushing up your spine. you’re caught between shock and the low, simmering heat that pools in your belly.
"careful," könig warns although his tone is deceptively light. his fingers tap against your clit in soft, featherlight pulses of teasing pressure that makes your thighs jump. "keep that attitude and i’ll slap this pretty little thing five times. make you count every single one. s’that what you want?"
your cunt clenches, slick dribbling down to coat his knuckles. he feels it, of course he does. feels how your body betrays you, responding before your mind can catch up.
chest heaving, you shake your head, breath shivering out of you. "no-"
"no?" he echoes a soft mockery, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs, spreading it just to hear the wet sound it makes echo in the space between you. "then behave, sweetheart. don’t make me teach you."
your heart pounds, breath coming in little gasps as you offer him a jerky nod. könig only watches with lazy half-lidded eyes.
"now," he murmurs, finger filling you again. "gonna ask one more time. have you gotten tighter..." his thumb brushes your clit, just enough to make you twitch, "...or have i just left you empty for too long?"
heat surges through you. your hands clutch at his jacket, grounding yourself in the weight of him. your face burns.
"you were gone for so long," you whisper, voice small, shame curling in your stomach.
he sighs. something in his gaze softens, guilt threading through his voice. "i know, baby." his forehead presses against yours. “missed you too."
you sniffle, nuzzling into his shoulder. "y-you can’t go away that long again..." the words tremble, cracking at the edges.
he kisses your temple, breath warm against your skin. "i won’t," he lies, gentle. "let me stretch you out, yeah?"
könig guides you further into your home, coaxing you down on the couch. könig kneels between your legs, broad hands spreading you open and drinking in the sight of you laid out before him.
"look at you," he murmurs, thumb dragging through your folds, gathering your slick up to rub slow circles against your clit. "so wet for me already. miss having me inside, huh?"
your fingers clutch at the cushions as he begins to fill you, head tipping back. "yes-"
"you gotta watch, pretty," könig interrupts, fingers tilting your chin back down.
your gaze drops, breath catching when you see it— his thick fingers buried deep inside you, slick dribbling down his knuckles. the gold band around his finger shines beneath the mess you’ve made, drenched, the sight obscene and somehow more intimate than you’re prepared for. your walls flutter around him, clenching down like your body’s desperate to keep him there.
"look at that.” he grind. "look at your cute little cunny... makin’ a mess all over me."
your cheeks burn. you squirm, trying to close your thighs, but his other hand tightens on your hip, keeping you spread. "no hiding," he says. "told you to watch."
so you do.
you watch the slow drag of his fingers pulling out, coated in slick that strings between you. your cunt clenches around nothing, throbbing, and you let out a soft, desperate whimper. könig hums, pleased, pressing back in. "look how well you take me," he says, dragging against that spot inside that makes your vision blur.
you whimper, head spinning, hips grinding down onto his hand. "feels so good-"
"yeah?" he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "gonna let me in now, sweetheart? let me fill you up nice and slow?"
you nod, frantic, words lost to the heat coiling low in your stomach. könig smiles, pulling his fingers free. you whine at the loss.
"shh," he soothes, wiping his slick-covered fingers against the head of his cock, spreading you over himself. "gonna take care of you. just lay back and be good for me, yeah?"
his hands grip your thighs, pressing them up toward your chest, folding you beneath him. your skin burns under the pressure, nerves sparking with every shift of his weight. the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance. he’s patient, achingly so— dragging it along your folds, gathering your slick, smearing it along his length until you’re soaked enough that he doesn’t have to rip you open.
könig’s gaze drops to where you’re spread open for him. "ready?"
you nod, breath catching in your throat, but it’s barely a sound, barely a thought when he starts to press in. he breaches you, the thick crown of his cock pushing past your entrance. your cunt clenches on instinct, trying to force him out, but könig presses on.
every inch feels like fire licking up your spine, burning through every nerve until you’re nothing but sensation.
"gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. "stretch you out every day i’m home-" he drives forward another inch, making your back arch, "-’til this pretty cunt just opens up for me."
you can’t speak. can’t think. everything narrows down to the drag of him inside you, veins and ridges catching on the soft walls of your cunt. your mind spins, vision blurring as your hips jerk, instinctively trying to escape the overwhelming fullness. his fingers bite into your thighs, holding you in place.
"uh-uh," he murmurs, dark amusement curling at the edges of his words. "don’t run, baby. you wanted this."
he braces himself, broad shoulders tense above you as he tries to sink deeper. but even with how wet you are, how pliant you’ve gone beneath him, your body refuses to give. his hips stutter, pushing, pushing— yet still, there’s that impossible last inches he can’t force past.
“p-please- need it, need you-” the words spill out as he pauses, pulling back an inch.
"i know, baby, i know," he pants, forehead pressing to yours, sweat slick between you, before rolling his hips back in, trying his damn best to bottom out, but your cunt clenches stubbornly. frustration twists across his face, the sight of you writhing beneath him, cunt stretched wide and still too tight to take him fully— it drives him insane.
"gonna have to fix that," he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.
you nod, dazed, tears slipping down your temples as you sob out a choked, "yes- yes, please-"
"shh," könig soothes, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "you’re doin’ so good, baby. takin’ me so well. just need to open you up a little more, yeah?"
könig adjusts his grip, hands sliding beneath your knees, lifting you with ease. before you can even register the shift, he’s pulling you up against his chest, arms hooking beneath your legs, locking you back in a full nelson.
your breath stutters, eyes going wide as your body is left entirely at his mercy, weightless in his grip, spread open around him.
könig’s lips graze your ear. "gonna let gravity help us, yeah? lil bit of science. let’s see if this pretty little cunt can take all of me now."
your toes curl, breath hitching as he angles his hips, smearing your slick between you.
then he lets gravity do most of the work.
your breath leaves you in a shattered moan as your body sinks down, forced open as he drops you down on his cock. your walls flutter, clenching around him, stretched impossibly wide, struggling to take him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you squirm away.
"that’s it," könig groans, arms flexing as he holds you still, keeps you spread. "so fuckin’ good for me, baby. lettin’ me stretch you open- gonna make you take it all."
you whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips, eyes rolling back as the last stubborn inch finally, finally sinks in, his cock seated fully inside you for the first time.
"fuck," könig grits out. "that’s my girl. knew you could take it, baby. knew you just needed a little help."
könig doesn’t give you much of a chance to adjust. the moment he thinks you're ready, his arms tighten, muscles flexing as he hauls you up before slamming you back down.
you jolt, cunt forced to stretch and squeeze around him with every thrust. his strength controls everything— the pace, the depth, the way you bounce like a ragdoll, helpless to slow him down. he’s slamming himself inside, spearing you open over and over, forcing you to stretch wider than you ever have.
you can’t keep up. your limbs go slack, muscles useless, brain short-circuiting. your vision blurs, eyes rolling back, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.
könig chuckles, pleased, watching the way you’ve gone completely limp in his arms. "gonna stretch you out like this every single day. keep you full, fuck you dumb, make sure this little cunt remembers who it belongs to."
your body convulses, wracked with sensation too intense to hold in. könig keeps moving, fucking you onto his cock like he’s trying to break you in, to shape your cunt to his cock.
"n-no-" your voice barely comes out. a sob caught in your throat as your fingers claw weakly at his forearms. your legs shake, eyes welling up, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. "g-gonna pee," you whimper, body locking up.
"no, baby." he drags you down harder, grinding the thick head of his cock against that perfect spot inside you. "you’re gonna cum. gonna make a mess all over me, aren't you?"
your sob turns into a choked wail as you gush, squirting hard, the release almost violent, soaking könig's thighs, dripping down to form a puddle on the floor beneath you.
könig watches you fall apart with hooded eyes, holding you up as your body jerks and trembles in his arms. "good girl," he praises, sounding utterly enthralled by the mess you’ve made. "fuckin’ knew you’d soak me- knew you were just a little messy thing."
you slump against him, muscles useless. the aftershocks have you so dazed that you barely register the shift before you’re being turned, pressed down against the floor, cheek squished against the slick puddle you just made.
"könig-" you whimper, trying to lift yourself, but his broad hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, keeping you open.
he ignores you, fingers digging into your hips, adjusting your position, spreading you wider. he lines himself up and pushes in, stuffing you to the brim in one deep thrust. your fingers claw at the wet floor beneath you, the slick sound of him sinking into you obscene in the quiet.
"good fuckin’ girl," he drags his cock out before slamming back in, his thighs slapping against your ass. "just let me use you, yeah? just take it like my perfect little cumdump."
you sob into the mess beneath you. könig presses your face harder against it, his broad palm splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned.
"lick it up," he orders, tone smooth, assured, the kind of voice that expects obedience.
your whole body burns, but the heat between your legs is hotter. könig feels the way you clench around him at the command, the way your body betrays you before your lips can even form a protest.
"kö-”
“don’t make me say it twice, sweetheart," he warns, hips pulling back, dragging his cock out until only the tip stretches you open.
"what’s the matter?" he mocks. "you were so eager to make this mess- now you’re going shy?"
your breath shudders out in a small whimper before you obey, lowering your head, tongue flicking out, just barely grazing the puddle beneath you.
könig clicks his tongue. "that’s not licking, that’s teasing."
his hips snap forward, knocking you further into the mess, forcing your mouth against it. your lips part with a gasp, and könig watches, eyes dark and hungry, as you taste yourself properly for the first time.
"there we go," he hums, smug satisfaction. "now clean up every drop."
your cheeks burn as you press your tongue flat to the floor, licking a slow, tentative stripe through the mess. the taste floods your mouth and your stomach twists— but the weight of könig’s cock inside you, the way he keeps you full and stretched and pinned beneath him, sends another rush of slick dripping down your thighs.
he notices. of course he notices.
"oh, sweetheart," he breathes. "you like this, don’t you?"
your body betrays you again, a little shiver running down your spine, your cunt fluttering around him.
"mm, you do." he chuckles, dragging his fingers through your hair, tightening his grip. "filthy little thing. you’re gettin’ off on this."
you squeeze your eyes shut, shame crawling up your throat.
"könig-"
"uh-uh," he interrupts, grip tightening, making you whimper. "keep licking, schatz. don’t stop ‘til it’s gone."
your tongue flicks out again, lapping up another mouthful, swallowing it down even as heat prickles behind your eyes.
könig groans at the sight, his free hand stroking down your spine, over the curve of your ass. "that’s it, baby," he breathes. "such a good little slut for me."
you whimper, thighs squeezing together, hips rocking subtly against him, desperate for friction, for anything.
he notices that, too. "oh, you poor thing," he coos, all false sympathy, fingers stroking your cheek where it’s damp with tears. "s’this gettin’ you all worked up?"
könig pulls back just a little, dragging his length through your overstretched walls. "you gonna come just from this?" he asks, rolling his hips. your body tenses, toes curling. "from licking your mess off the floor like a good little bitch?"
your face burns, whole body trembling. too full, too overwhelmed, too much— and yet, you nod, a choked little sob escaping your lips.
his pace stutters, burying himself to the hilt with a ragged groan, holding you still as he spills inside, his cock twitching, pumping thick ropes of cum into your swollen cunt. "fuck," he pants, chest heaving, his weight bearing down on you. "so good, baby. took me so fuckin’ well."
his cum is hot inside you, sticky, leaking, seeping out around his cock as he slowly pulls back, watching his spend start to slip from your overstretched hole. könig hums, almost thoughtful. he presses a broad palm against your pussy, scooping it up, pushing it back in with two thick fingers, shoving his spend as deep as it’ll go. "keep it in,” he says almost absentmindedly. he lifts his hand after a moment, tilting his head as he examines the way it drips from his fingers.
his free hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up. your lips part before he even has to tell you. "clean it up," he slides his ring finger past your lips.
your lashes flutter, heat prickling up your spine as you close your lips around him, sucking gently, swirling your tongue over the ridges of his finger, tasting yourself, tasting him.
könig groans, thumb stroking over your cheek, watching your lips stretch around the digit, tongue flicking against the band wrapped around his finger.
"good girl," he breathes, eyes hooded, cock twitching against your slick folds, already stirring again, already wanting more.
he presses his finger deeper, until it nudges against the back of your throat, until your breath stutters and your eyes go hazy, wet.
"so pretty like this.” his other hand slips between your legs again, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit. "gonna keep you like this forever, wife. nice and full."
he pulls his finger from your mouth with a soft pop, watching the way your tongue flicks out after it, lips wet, eyes dazed. "gonna make you a mommy.” he grins. “fill you up every night until it takes.”
summary: you don’t wanna be alone, but Rafe is a busy man. so of course you do what you do best
warnings: mentions of sex, pure fluff, rafe being soft, pet names, rafe a tiny bit toxic?, crying reader
A/n: new reader, I know it’s short but it’s something to satisfy you my angels!
“fuck baby please” Rafe groaned as he turned over and saw the tears start to pour in your big doe eyes. Rafe had just told you, you couldn’t spend another night at his house. It wasn’t safe for you, with Barry and his dad…he didn’t want you around that. you were innocent and pure. he needed to keep you like that. he didn’t need you around guns, drugs, stolen money. “it’s just one night, I’ll call you before you go to bed” Rafe said as he knew the tears were not going to stop until you got your way.
sure you were sensitive. I mean who wasn’t? You grew up with a mother that validated your feelings and whatever you felt she told you it was justified for feeling that way. Your dad had left when you were very young and you tended to latch on by sort of attention Rafe gave you. he rubbed your back to sleep, bought you things, watched your shows with you. anything your little heart desired he gave to you.
“don’t wanna be alone” you hiccuped as you did your best to wipe the fat tears that were rolling down your pink cheeks. you were a complete mess but Rafe couldn’t help but love you like this. He liked the idea of you needing him that bad you would break down in-front of him in his truck in your own driveway.
“Isint your mom home?” Rafe asked as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. he pulled it out and it was multiple texts from Barry telling him to get his ass back to the house. more business Rafe was going to have to fix. But right now he needed to calm down his girl.
“Working. Won’t be home until the morning” you said, it was a pretty nice house and have that all to yourself did make you feel empty. Rafe didn’t want to leave you alone. And it broke his heart seeing you flushed and this upset. Rafe leaned over and lifted your chin to look at him.
“Listen to me, pretty girl, m’kay? You’re gonna go inside your house and get ready for bed and do all the little girly stuff you do and text me all about it okay? And then grab Muffin and go to your room. I’ll call you tonight, can you be a good girl for me?” Rafe asked as he watched your tear up just a little. but you nodded your head eager to please him.
“Yes Rafe” you mumbled as you leaned into his touch, you watched as his mouth twitched and he leaned forward to give you a kiss. You hung on to everything he gave you. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth and you moaned quietly against him. He knew if he didn’t stop now he was gonna have to take you in the back of his truck.
“Good girl. Now go along” Rafe said as he leaned back and watched you hope out of his truck and walk over to your house. You smiled a little as your cat, Muffin was waiting for you you in her usually spot on the couch. You hurried along inside your house so you could get to bed sooner waiting for his call.
summary: Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.
warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex (f&m receiving, reader’s first time), Logan is a liittle mean but just a little and he gets softer towards the end, spitting, jerking off, Logan keeps his socks on I think it’s hot okay 😭😭, Logan calls reader bub, baby, good girl, pretty girl; Wade is mentioned but I’m imagining a younger Logan than in DP&W
word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a drabble lol idk what happened)
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Logan asks from the sofa as you walk past him in your pretty date outfit. You’ve got some time left before your date but you decided to get ready early in a bout of nervousness.
“This guy I’ve been seeing,” you tell him, trying to seem nonchalant. You haven’t yet mentioned to Logan that you’ve been on a few dates. He spends a lot of time in his room, away from you and Wade, and he just never happened to be there to hear about your dates.
Logan mutes the tv. “What guy?”
“Met him online.”
“And he’s so good to you that you get this pretty for him?”
You smile at his indirect compliment and sit down next to him.
“Yeah, he’s nice. I… I think we might go a step further today,” you feel your cheeks heating up, “I’m kind of nervous.”
You see his jaw clench slightly, “If he’s a good guy he shouldn’t make you nervous.”
“I’m not nervous because of him, it’s just that it would be my first time. And I don’t want to be bad.”
He chuckles and leans back, “You won’t be bad. Just make him go on top.”
Logan isn’t taking your hint, so you take a deep breath to gather your courage. “What if he wants me to go down on him and I don’t know how to do it? Will you…” your voice falters as his eyes meet yours.
“Will you help me?” you stutter and Logan immediately begins to smirk. Embarrassment spreads through your body.
“Help you how?” He asks, smug.
It’s too late to go back now. “Well, I don’t know. Like, explain how it works or.. you could show me?” you shrug.
“You probably know better than me how to find porn online.”
“No, I mean show me on you.” That’s all the courage you can muster for the day and you wonder if you will even have the strength to look back into Logan’s eyes. He solves that problem for you, putting a finger under your chin and pushing it up so you’re looking at him.
“You wanna suck my cock?” He sounds annoyed and you immediately want to die.
“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” you look at his cheeks, his nose, anywhere but his eyes, “I just wanna know if I’m doing it right. It’s okay if you can’t cum, I just want to practise.”
Logan scans your face for a sign of discomfort – other than your embarrassment – but he doesn’t find any. His features soften, “You really wanna go down on me, bub?”
You nod quickly, “For practice.”
“Mhm, for practice.” He’s mocking you, but all you can do is ignore it.
A thrill shoots through your body at his next words: “C’mere then.” He spreads his legs, clothed in jeans that strain around the thickness of his delicious thighs. You can see the outline of his abs through his tank top. You can’t believe this is happening – you’ve had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time.
Logan beckons you between his legs and you move to sit on the carpet, its fluffiness stopping your bare knees from hurting. Your short skirt rides up your ass and you pull it down self-consciously despite what you’re about to do.
“You sure about this, bub?” Logan asks again from above you. You gulp when you look up at him. How does he look even better from below?
“Yeah,” you assure him, your panties already growing wet. You sit down and try to patiently wait for instruction but you end up squirming. When you look back up at Logan he’s got one of his eyebrows raised.
“You don’t know how to open a belt either?”
“Well, yeah but don’t we have to–” your mouth starts to water when the rough clink of his belt interrupts you. He’s all but ripping open his belt; he unbuttons his jeans and takes out his hard cock. You almost get goosebumps.
“Oh,” you say.
“If a guy likes you, he doesn’t need any time to get ready. Foreplay is just to get the woman nice and wet,” Logan tells you, although you’re barely listening. All you know is that you wouldn’t need the foreplay either, you’re uncomfortably wet, trying to get friction against your legs that are folded underneath you.
Logan watches you stare at his erection, “Take your top off. I like seeing your pretty face but that’ll make it an even nicer view.”
“But I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you thumb at the thin straps of your top.
He smirks, “even better.” He reaches down to pull the top up by your waist but then hesitates.
You nod but Logan rolls his eyes. “Use your words.”
“You can take it off,” you say but you nevertheless put your arms in front of your tits when he pulls your top over your head.
Logan chuckles, “Baby, I’ve been dying to see your tits since I first met you. You really think you gotta hide?” The nickname makes you melt and your arms immediately drop to your sides.
You sit up straighter as Logan lets out a low moan, “God, look at you. So fucking perfect.” He reaches out to grope your tits almost clumsily. His cock bobs in front of you as he leans down to touch you and you feel yourself getting addicted to him already. You just want to start.
With a last rough squeeze of your tit, Logan leans back. “Wet your lips,” he instructs. You lick your lips.
“Wetter,” he says, and your eyebrows crease in confusion as you lick your lips again.
Logan huffs, spits into his hand, and smears his spit over your mouth, “There. Don’t you look fucking pretty like this.” You just about purr against his hand and then push against it with your cheek.
You place your hands on either of his knees and lean in to kiss the tip of his cock, all swollen and ready. You immediately feel the urge to go further but your shyness takes over, so you keep pressing wet kisses to his length.
“God,” Logan groans, leaning his head back in pleasure as you keep kissing, and you start to use some more spit.
“Look at you, don’t even need me to tell you what to do,” he pulls his arms behind his head smugly, like an asshole, and you smile, getting shy again. You kiss along the underside of his cock some more, getting more desperate with every second.
“What now?” You ask.
Logan softly smiles at you for a second, pulling his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. You pull them off completely as he pulls off his top. He’s naked in front of you now, except for his socks, and you take a second to appreciate all the broadness and his muscles. The hair from his chest all the way over his abs and down to his cock is begging for you to kiss every inch of it but you force yourself to focus.
Logan takes his cock in his hand to lift it out of the way, and slowly starts to jerk off. His eyes go to you and then to his balls, and you get what he wants you to do. Still, he gives you one word: “Lick.”
You move forward, inhaling all his manly smell, instinctively going to press another wet kiss to his cock. You let spit pool in your mouth and begin to lick all over his balls, feeling the heaviness of them on your tongue.
“Take as much as you can, baby,” he rasps, continuing to jerk off. You almost slap his hand away – you want to be the one making him feel good – but you stop yourself.
You do as he tells you, opening your mouth to cover as much of him as you can, the warmth of his balls against your tongue making you drool.
“Yeah, baby, juuust like that. That’s a good girl,” he breathes heavily.
Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on anything but the wet ache between your thighs.
His balls move against your tongue from his jerking off, and you gently suck on the skin, moving around a few inches every few seconds. But the movement from his hand on his cock is becoming distracting and, without thinking, you instinctively push his hand away.
He stills and then smiles, lifting his hand away. He lightly leans his elbows on the back of the sofa to the sides of him.
“You can start sucking my cock now if you’re ready, baby. Been doing such a good job.”
“I don’t know if I can take all of it,” you pout. Even just imagining his dick down your throat feels too much, though not in a bad way. He’s just so fucking big.
“Just take as much as you can. I bet you can take more of me than you think.”
His words motivate you. You go up slightly on your knees, carefully wrapping your hand around his cock. You spit on it, letting it slowly slide down the sides as you begin to spread it with your hand.
Logan huffs out a laugh from above you, “So adorable. You don’t need to be so careful. Here, do it like this.” He wraps his much bigger hand around yours and he starts to jerk off with your hand, showing you how rough you can be as he starts to fuck your fist.
You clear your throat, “Can I use my mouth now?”
He bites his lip, “Ready when you are, baby. Just breathe through your nose and relax.” Oh, you’re relaxed. Being between Logan’s meaty thighs is the best you’ve felt in your life.
You press another kiss to the tip of his cock and part your lips to take him in your mouth. The first second you feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue is like heaven. Logan lets out a low moan and you look up to find his eyes already on your face. He looks like a god from below, his muscles starting to glisten with a thin layer of sweat.
Opening your mouth wider, you take more of him. You start to jerk him off where your mouth can’t reach but you do your best to go as deep as you can, moving up and down with your wet mouth.
The feeling of Logan’s cock in your mouth is addicting, and the quiet sounds he is making even more so.
“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispers, voice weak. You look up into his eyes as you suck his dick, spit starting to run down your hand, and a smirk spreads on Logan’s face.
“Such a pretty girl,” he leans his head back.
Your jaw is starting to strain because he’s so big but you never want to stop doing this. You swallow down the taste of his precum and can’t wait to actually make him come. He’s starting to pulse in your mouth, abs contracting with every time your tongue moves.
You’re wondering how much long–
“Y’gonna make me come, baby. Gonna come so hard,” Logan moans, and you figure he’s warning you but you want nothing more than his cum in your mouth.
You put in all the effort you can, sucking Logan’s cock further down your throat, cheeks hollowing. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips.
Logan groans, and then he’s filling up your mouth, pumping his cum down your throat as you eagerly swallow. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in his face, his eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure as a long, almost pathetic, groan comes out.
He’s coming longer than you’d expect, coming in your mouth in sticky ropes, a hand guiding the back of your head. You still pout when he’s finally drained and he slowly pulls his hips back.
Logan sighs a last breath of pleasure and holds his hand in front of your mouth. “What?” you ask.
“Spit.”
“Uh, I swallowed,” you say.
“Really?”
You stick out your tongue for Logan to see your empty mouth.
He smirks. “God,” he huffs, “so fucking perfect. C’mere.” He pulls you up to the sofa and sits you on his lap, your bare chest against his. Logan pushes his mouth against yours, kissing you like he’s filled with a new desire, as if you didn’t just make him come.
You don’t get to kiss him for very long though, because he pulls you to lie down on the sofa, turning so your legs are spread around him.
“‘m gonna show you what it’s supposed to feel like for someone to eat your pussy. Just so you know your date is doin’ it right, ‘kay?”
What date? You almost ask. You remember for a second but then, looking at him, all of your thoughts are replaced with Logan again. “Yes,” you nod hornily, “Please.”
“There you go, got you even saying please now. You want it that bad, huh?”
All you can do is nod as he pulls down your skirt and panties. He almost goes cross-eyed when he sees your pussy for the first time.
“God, baby, you coulda said something. Such an eager little thing. You got that wet from having my cock in your mouth, hm? Gonna make you come so good, yeah?”
You nod again and he bends down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, kissing down your neck and stopping at your chest, “Can’t get enough of these,” he plays with your tits, desperately grabbing at them like a man seeing a woman naked for the first time.
He smiles up at you when he realises how much time he’s spent at your chest, pressing a last kiss to your sternum before placing one of his big hands on your tit and kissing further down. You assume he’s going to stop before he gets to your pussy, just to tease you, but he kisses all the way down from your belly button to your clit, starting to make out with your pussy.
“Logan,” you moan, your hand flying to his hand on one of your boobs.
“Feel good?” He asks, and you almost faint when you look at his head pushed between your thighs. He looks exactly right, as if this is where he was meant to be the entire time.
“Mhmm.”
He chuckles against your pussy, tongue darting out to play with your clit. The ache between your legs starts to get worse with him there, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing.
Logan smirks and pushes your thighs further apart with a rough hand. He starts to gently rub your clit, and you’ve finally got the friction you’ve been needing this entire time. You’re already close.
You let out an involuntary moan as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, and you grip his hand on your tit harder, and he squeezes you there, lovingly.
“I got you, baby,” he says into your pussy before starting to fuck you with his finger, pushing another one in as he begins to rub a sweet little spot inside that you can never reach yourself.
He leans in to start licking your clit again, circling it with his tongue and, ever so slightly, beginning to suck.
You’re so close, the waves of pleasure almost, just almost, flooding over you. You squirm, your knees pushing together, held open by his broad shoulders.
Logan sucks harder, fingers fucking into you with your clit pulsing against his tongue.
It only takes a few more seconds of Logan’s mouth on your pussy for you to come. Pleasure explodes within you and floods your entire body as you arch your back, pushing further into him and his wet mouth and thick fingers.
Logan doesn’t stop until you’re satisfied and your legs go numb around him.
He grins at you, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading too far, and he presses a kiss to the middle of your belly, squeezing your tit gently before letting go. You feel cold without him there.
With your legs still around him, you instinctively pull him in and he lies down next to you on the sofa, gently caging you against the back of it to give you the more comfortable side as he balances on the edge.
“You wanna know how good you taste?” Logan asks, not waiting for an answer before he kisses you. You slide your hand behind his neck to pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue.
He stops kissing you. “So.. you still going on your date?”
You feel your cheeks getting hot, “What if I told youuu…” you twirl a strand of Logan’s hair that’s hanging over his forehead, “that there never was a date. Or a guy.”
Logan breaks out in a smile, “You were too shy to ask me to fuck you so you made up an entire person?”
You hear the key turning in the lock in that moment, and even though you’ll be covered by the back of the sofa Logan shields you with his hands as best as he can, reaching for your clothes.
Wade comes in and you immediately sit up, holding Logan’s hand and forearm to your tits to cover them.
“Guess what happened?” you squeal at Wade.
Wade’s eyes go over to you and then to Logan, and he drops his bags of grocery shopping to jump up and down, “Was it my plan? I told you my plan would work!”
You grin, “It was your plan.”
Logan looks between you and Wade, rolling his eyes but he’s unable to hide a smile.
“It was a good plan, right? I told her she could just ask you out but she was too shy so I told her to make up a guy she’s dating,” Wade explains.
“Alright,” Logan laughs quietly, “Now fuck off so I can fuck my girl again.”
Wade’s eyes go wide and he says what you’re thinking, “My girl? I’d faint if he called me that. You owe me,” he points at you.
You blow a kiss at Wade and he pretends to catch it, pressing it to his lap. You roll your eyes and smile, waving at him, “You heard him, we’ve got stuff to do.”
The almost animalistic smirk Logan gives you when Wade is gone should scare you, but it only makes you want him more. He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. You can’t wait for what’s to come.
-
P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🩷🫣
summary: rafe cameron couldn't find peace in his heart and mind ever since you've given him the taste of his own medicine. it was like an old dim torch have lit itself up once again and suddenly his mind was only filled with you. he soon came to a conclusion that perhaps it's time for the both of you to swallow that jagged little pill and make his mistake the start of growth between you.
content: ex!rafe who yearns for reader, subtle angst + fluff + smut, 2k worth of plot/angsty build-up, starting with rafe's pov, exes to lovers, eating out ft. locking your legs around his head & pulling on his hair, unprotected piv; missionary, rafe not pulling out
The break up might seem come off as total ease on his side of the story when seen through your eyes. But Rafe Cameron have found himself in a confusing state where he felt he should go along a path that turned out to not align with his heart's desire at all. He should be happy, right? This was the path his choice have led him to, the fruit of his own decision. But you were right, every bit of you lasted even way after he left.
Perhaps that's why he could even bare a single second with that girl. His mind was constantly attaching the image of you onto her to at least make the relationship less unbearable, creating the illusion that she felt as good and deep as being with you does, that she kisses just as lovingly and passionately as you do, that she loves as messy and true as you do.
He couldn't understand why exactly it was necessary, things started out rather perfectly with her; every touch and words felt true and easy, the relationship stable as ever. Then, it just felt... forced.
"Maybe then you'll realize that you should worry more about how big your ego is and not about how much holes your small dick can fit in."
Oh if only you knew how many times he replayed those words in his mind over and over again, every word processed carefully in his mind to understand even now when he's sat neatly dressed and closely to his lovely girlfriend, who was happily yet calmly explaining the activities of her day, voice soft and mature- calm, while you were fun and messily perfect. Each sentences ever spoken by you banged on his head even more when his lips part and his voice escape his throat, interrupting her with these following cruel words,
"I can't love you."
The gentle smile on her face falters, flinching just a tad from the sudden confession, as if she had been hit, "I don't unders... What are you saying, Rafe...?"
His elbows rest on his thighs, his face resting on his opened palms as he let out a long, rough breath. "I'm saying I'm sorry and I think we should break up..." He slowly said, shaking his head as if he knew how wrong it sounded. "It'll eventually hurt you much more if I don't end it now."
"But... why...? We were doing so well..."
"No. I've ruined everything already. But you don't have to know more than that simple fact."
The guilt twisted his heart, knowing that he have wasted the love a girl like her could have spent on someone actually meant for her. Because he'll never be meant for anyone other than you. Just you, only you, always you.
Before she could even begin to summarize the true meaning of his words and come up with a response, Rafe decided to stand up right away, placing enough bill on the table to at least treat her well for the last chance he's able to, leaning down to press an apologetic peck on her cheek,
"I'm sorry." He mumbled against her skin one last time before walking away, refusing to stick around and watch the first tear roll down her cheek, "I'm no good."
There was only one woman able to truly occupy his mind all to herself. That woman will never not be you. No matter how hard he tried to push the thought of you aside, it's like your face was already carved permanently onto his brain anyways. A sickening curse, or at least he thought so. Perhaps it was a blessing after all, opening his eyes about the blind-love relationship he was in.
It was only a month since that night when you put him in his rightful place; under you.
That single month consisted 30 days of Rafe Cameron being haunted repeatedly by someone not even dead, as ridiculous as that may sound. 30 days of Rafe Cameron learning how so fucking flawed he is, learning that he will never be perfect nor complete, always dragged by every little idiotic mistake he made up till this point as he drives his truck over to the one place he never thought he used to feel more at home in, instead of Tannyhill.
He figured that being perfect was just impossible, no matter how much one tries to cover up a mistake. The closest thing to feeling the bliss of perfection was just to be with you. His soul would never feel completed without yours.
"Shit..." Rafe let out a long breath as he walk up to your doorstep, a lump in his throat that he just couldn't swallow, just like he couldn't learn to swallow away the mistakes of his past, "Right... Here goes everything..."
His knuckles barely brushed the wooden surface of the door before the door opened right away, revealing your fucking gorgeous figure standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow and tilting your head to the side in that judging way you always do. Oh god, he missed you
Rafe stood there with his fist still hanging in the air, "...Hi." He let out hesitantly, not even trying to cover up the way his eyes roam the features of your face that he wish he could've trace with his fingers instead of just his gaze.
You found yourself leaning against the doorframe of your front door, eyeing him up and down as a tired sigh managed to escape you, as if you were already drained out from just being near his presence.
"What can I do for you this time, Cameron?" You ask, clicking your tongue, "Want me to suck your dick again because your prissy girlfriend wouldn't?"
He couldn't help but scoff, always finding himself amused yet annoyed by your absolutely unbearable sassy mouth that always have been able to rile him up so easily. "Not my girlfriend."
You snorted, "Let me guess, engaged?"
"Broke up."
Hearing his answer, you paused and looked at him in surprise, eyes searching for any signs whether he's lying or not, carefully scanning him. But it was clear as daylight in his low, quiet voice that he have in fact broken up with that girl.
Without waiting for you to say another word, he stepped forward just once, a step right outside your door. "Can we... talk?" He gruffly mumbled, as if embarrassed by the question he asked, even more when he added, "Inside?"
Those were the three words you were convinced Rafe Cameron would never use, especially to you. Those three simple words usually indicates mature and resolving conversation, something you doubt the two of you could even have.
"Better make it worth my time."
"I will. I promise."
And once again, Rafe Cameron have caught you off guard. He was never the type to simply say "I promise", at least as far as you knew. What else have changed?
So soon enough, you found yourself sitting across Rafe in your living room, you on your couch and he on an armchair. The sight was so familiar yet so strange at the same time. You didn't even think a word would be spoken again between the two of you after that night.
Rafe let out a small breath, one that may sound like a frustrated breath to you but truly a nervous breath to him. "So... I've been thinking about-"
"Thinking? That's new." You snorted.
He scowled at you, rolling his eyes, "Can I just speak for once?" He grunted, hands running through his hair messily, hinting more and more on how nervous he truly felt at the moment, heart pounding at his chest.
When your lips stayed sealed and silent, he took it as a green light to continue speaking, shoving inside his pocket to stop his fingers from fiddling with his ring, "23 minutes." He blurted out, "That's how long I've been single. That's how long it's been since I left her." He said, eyes never once leaving yours. "And I'm fucking telling you, it was you that was on my mind. Fuck, even before I broke up with her."
His words of confession, as sudden as they sound, they also sound terrifyingly raw and genuine. Like it came straight from the deepest pit of his mysterious heart. Somehow, it scared you to death. Perhaps because you've been so sure that you were never gonna fall back into his arms, which you'll never let go of once you melt into them.
"Yeah? That so?" You scoffed out, tilting your chin up as if to intimidate him, "What am I supposed to do with that information?"
Rafe stared at you with his eyebrows raised, lips parted. He was expecting a different reaction. One that'd show that maybe there's still an ounce of care deep inside the heart he knew he broke when he carelessly replaced you with her. "What are you- Jesus fucking Christ, I'm trying to tell you how I feel! Spill my soul out or however that saying goes!"
And yet you sat still, holding your own emotions back too good that he almost thought there were barely any feelings left behind your eyes as you stared back at him quietly yet so gorgeously.
"Answer me! Shout at me!" He raised his voice, standing up from the armchair, "Tell me, for fuck's sakes, why do you keep haunting every move I make?! Why do I see you in every corner I glance at?! Why do I need you so bad?!" His hands are back to his hair now, fingers gripping the strands tightly this time, breathing roughly and stepping over to the couch, hoovering above you.
Rafe Cameron might be one big asshole, but damnit he'll never lose the ability to make your heartbeat race even just a bit.
"You tell me, Rafe." You answered, leaning back on the couch, "Does it make sense to miss something you threw away carelessly for a walmart version of the same thing?"
"No! Shit, I know what I did, okay?!"
"So you were aware of the decision you made, right? You did it all with a clear head?"
His hands now drag down his face frustratingly, groaning. "I can never do or say anything right, can I?" He grumbled, "Are you even listening to me? Can't you tell that the truth is being bared right in front of you?" He asked while throwing his arms around, narrowing his eyes which were filled with so much anger and desperation towards you.
That flicked off the last bit of self-control you had left, now standing up as well. "How am I supposed to tell if all you ever done to me were lie, lie, and lie?!" Your voice finally raised as well.
That, somehow, made Rafe let out a breath of relief, letting him know that you, at some point, still cared enough to be riled up over the bad memories. "I never lied." He say, voice low, "I replaced you like an idiot, sure, but I never lied during our time together."
"Then how would I know you're not lying now?"
Then, without hesitation, he grabbed one of your hands and led it to press and lay flat against his chest, specifically where his heart is, his own bigger hands covering over yours. In which underneath your palm, you felt his heartbeat thud fast and hard, the silence also allowing you realize he have been breathing roughly, as if he had been running a marathon.
When your eyes flickered up back to his, you see his glassy blue eyes. Looking at you, tracing your features intently with dilated pupils.
"Please." He breathed, "I fucking love you."
Your eyes opened wide, taken aback as his voice just let out the one sentence you didn't think he'd even remember what the meaning is.
"I'm a rich stupid asshole who have all the money in North Carolina to get anything I want." He blurted out, "Well right now, I only want one thing that I can never be good enough to have, but I'm telling you– shit, begging you, to let me learn." Both of his hands held your hand tighter, gripping so tightly as if he was afraid you'd slip right through his fingers. "Let me learn how to be a man. To be your man."
For awhile, there was only silence between the two of you. Two lost souls that have only known rage and hatred blindly for too long, forgetting to look for the right path– which would only lead them to each other again. For only in his arms would she find home, and in hers only would he melt like putty.
Leaning closer than you already were, your lips captured his in a soft, gentle kiss. Your lips pressing against his so carefully as if you'd ruin this right away if you let go of your need for him completely.
But Rafe Cameron was a difficult and wild man. Loving him was meant to be one leap of faith.
The moment Rafe's hands held your cheeks, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck while he leaned down to deepen the kiss. "You don't know how badly I need you," He mumbled against your lips, his own lips trailing wet kisses around your face, making sure every inch of you know just how much he loves you, "I can't sleep without thinking of—"
"Fuck's sake, just shut up and prove it to me."
You sighed against his cheek, heart jumping when you heard his rough, breathless chuckle as he slowly led you to rest on the couch, laying you flat on your back.
And even when he felt like his cheeks were burning, he still had the time to give you a cheeky grin, "Impatient?" He asked while his lips were on your neck, painting red, loving marks on your skin while his hands roamed through your body.
Soft, pleasure-filled noises were pulled out of your throat, the feeling of his hands were already hypnotizing enough, barely making out the fact that he had pulled your shirt off your head. "Once a jerk, always will be a jerk, hmm?" You grumbled.
"Yeah? Well, this jerk's in love with you." Rafe softly spoke, lips now trailing more kisses down your body, from your chest, your stomach, and down to where the waistband of your pants is, "May I?" He oddly enough asked politely, almost careful with your body as if you were made of fine china.
You nodded, needing not a single second to think about your answer, even whispering back a "please?"
A gentle smile rested on his lips while his fingers hooked themselved into the waistband of both your pants and panties, pulling them both down at once, revealing your soaked and eager cunt.
"Oh god..." He groaned quietly, laying a kiss on your inner thigh before heading straight for your heat.
Unlike the way you remembered him, he was strangely cautious and tender with his mouth. However, it didn't change a thing about how good his tongue works on you, flicking your clit just at the right pace and passionately mouthing at your pussy, the sound of his desperate grunts muffled by your cunt and sending vibrations up your body.
"Rafe..." You managed to let out in a whimper, fingers tangled in the mess of his hair, gripping and pulling at strands without even considering how it'll only make him groan even louder against your cunt.
You could feel his slick tongue sliding in and out of the entrance of your pussy, hungry and yearning. All Rafe ever wanted was to taste you on his lips again, for your sweet release to wash away the taste of her that still lingered bitterly on his lips. As much as you could explain, he was quite literally making out with your pussy, holding both your ass-cheeks in both of his palms while he only dunk his head deeper in-between your legs that have now trapped his head tightly between them.
Feeling high as you grind against his tongue, your back arched while your head was throwned back against the pillows you had on the couch. Your legs were locking his head in even tighter from the escalating pleasure, it barely came to mind how terribly difficult it must be for him to breathe at the moment.
Rafe soon leaned back to catch his breath, shooting you a toothy grin along with a rough chuckle, yet it was all love and surrenderness in his eyes. "Let go for me, would you?" He asked quietly, "Please just let me taste you." His tongue swept over his bottom lip right before he dived right back into your pussy, lapping at your soaked slit even faster now.
"Fuck!" You moaned, pulling at his strands even harder now to the point there weren't much space left between his face and your heat, nose mushed against your sensitive clit, "Rafe please..." you gasped out, breath ragged and hitched while mindlessly mumbling, "more, more, more..."
And so he did. He gave you more than you could ever imagine. He lapped at your folds, sucked on your clit, and ate you out like a mad man who have suffered from great starvation and thirst in a desert, yearning for you, the oasis that will keep him alive with all the he needs.
He kept on going till you came undone right on his tongue, still grinding against his face while louder moans were escaping your lips. You could hear the sound of Rafe slurping up the juices that was still oozing out of your cunt, not letting a single drop go to waste.
"God, you're so perfect..." He breathed, the back of his hand coming up to wipe away the mess you've made on his mouth, "You're all I ever needed... I know that for sure now..." he mumbled as he took off his shirt before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss again.
This time, the kiss became sloppy and messy, his tongue numb and still haunted by the taste of your sweet release. Both of you were already breathless just from him eating you out, panting and moaning into each other's mouths, hands exploring each other's body like treasure maps. It all felt so familiar, so right.
Those fingers of yours grip onto his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it away to the floor of your living room, "I'll never ever let you think anyone else can have you..." You sighed as you press kisses onto his chest, trying to repay what he had done for you just a second ago, "Let me..."
Yet the moment your fingers tug on his waistband, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you all of a sudden. You look up at him, hazy eyes widening in panic, wondering why he stopped you– wondering if he changed his mind.
Rafe shook his head, forehead coming down to rest on your own. His eyes never once left your own, not even when he gently lay you back down on his back. "Not today, okay?" He whispered quietly, "Let me make you feel good... Let me worship you..." He cooed, pecking the palm of your hand before pinning them up above your head with one hand, his other hand busy with the task of taking off his pants, his eager cock awaiting to be set free from the prison-like boxers and jeans.
The whole living room already felt like it was boiling, filled with heat and intimacy. It only got hotter when Rafe leaned down, body laying ontop of yours just lightly, lips beside your ear as he whispered with a kiss to your earlobe, "Just lay there and be gorgeous for me, please? I just need to let you feel my love."
You nodded wordlessly, still catching your breath. Your mind was fogged, the only thing you could think of was Rafe; his blue, vulnerable eyes. His now messy hair. The little groans he'd let out. His bricked up length that you've stolen glances at, your entrance already calling for him to fill you up already.
Then, with his hand guiding the tip, his dick was finally pushed through your folds and into the warmth of your pussy.
"Ah shit, baby..." Rafe groaned, eyebrows creased in pure delight of the feeling of you wrapped around his length yet again.
The hand he used to pin yours above your head finally let go, giving you the freedom to touch him however and wherever you wanted, in which one of your hands went to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and hold onto his back with your other one.
His thrusts started out gentle and painfully slow, taking his time to memorize the way your walls would clench around his girthy length, savoring the feeling and the reactions you've given him. Once he became impatient enough, he pulled out just enough before thrusting his full length all the way back into you, pulling loud, satisfied moans from both of you.
"Gosh, Rafe..." you whined, back arching and pulling him closer to you. Your legs now wrapped around his hips, silently encouraging him to thrust deeper into you. "Don't... don't stop..."
Those hips of his moved faster as the seconds pass by, his breathing loud and ragged in your ear, arms around your waist tightly while helping you move your hips against his. "I can never stop, baby, never..." he groaned, palm moving to hold your hips and thrust even harder.
Your living room was anything but quiet now, filled with a harmony between your united moans, the tiny noises coming from your couch due to all the movements, and the sound of skins meeting roughly each time his hips meet yours.
As if it couldn't get anymore better, one of Rafe's hands slid between the two of you, fingers finding your still sensitive clit from the previous orgasm. He rubbed rough circles onto the sensitive bud recklessly, enjoying the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a louder and breathier moan escaped your lips.
The pleasure was only escalating more and more, you barely even realized that you had dragged your nails down Rafe's back till he let out a loud groan into your neck.
"I love you." You blurted out, gasping when he slammed his cock deep in you, hitting all the right spots.
He leaned closer into you, arms now back around your waist to truly hold you instead of just your hips. "You do?" He asked, blue eyes begging you to say yes.
So tender with his words and gaze yet so mean with the way he thrust into you mercilessly.
"I do, Rafe... f-fuck!" You moaned, "I love you!"
"I love you so much more, baby." He grunted, lips attaching themselves onto yours, muffling the moans from both of you as you both feel that familiar tingly feeling rushing through your bodies. "So close, so close.." he mumured into your mouth.
"Please cum with me..." you had whined.
Then, with just a few more thrusts, Rafe shoved his cock deep into your pussy, his lips parting with a short hitched breath. You could feel his load being shot right into you along with your own orgasm crashing at the same time, back arching off your couch to the point your chest and his were pressed together, both hands greedy with each other's bodies while your mixed fluids now leak slowly between your bodies and pooling onto the fabric of the couch.
"Shit..." you whined, face red and eyes droopy, "You're cleaning my couch right after this..." you say softly, grinning just weakly.
Rafe managed to let out a small chuckle, breathless and humming as he carefully pull his length out of your hole, his body now resting completely ontop of you, head on your chest just like the way he loved it.
"I'd do anything for you." He whispered, looking up at you and brushing your hair away from your face, "I'll never make the same mistake as I did back then. I promise."
Your eyes softened, almost forgetting about the whole point of this, "I think we'll make it work this time, Rafe..." you quietly responded.
He shook his head, taking your hand and pressing kisses onto your knuckles. "I know we'll make it work." He said, confident and sure. "We'll learn together. Every mistake I make will be yours to correct. Every fury you feel will be mine to soothe."
Rafe placed your hand above his heartbeat once more, which still pounded slightly fast against his chest. Yet it was all you needed to listen to to learn how love sounded like.
medieval AU in which simon is nobility and you’re just a servant for his family. and of course, simon has to marry to make alliances. but it’s you he kisses in the dark of night. you he sneaks to his bedroom. you he has fallen for.
and his betrothed is pretty enough, which obviously has you seething, but he would never be satisfied with her.
you beg him not to marry her, but he really has no choice. he doesn’t have the freedom to decide.
and when he does marry her, you sulk in your tiny servants chambers on his wedding night. knowing exactly what it is simon is doing right now. and to who.
yes, simon fucks his new wife. but it’s almost clinical the way she bends over for him expectantly. they both know it’s their duty, and neither party is thrilled about it. it’s boring and quick as he pumps inside her, needing your face on his mind to have even gotten hard at all.
the entire time he’s picturing you. imagining it’s your heat he’s deep inside of. and he pretends to finish, letting his new wife roll over now that her duty is done. he never intended to come inside her.
simon tugs on pants, still hard, and makes his way down to your room. he knocks frantically, needing you. when you open the door, you’re hurt and upset. you tell him to go away as you sulk back on your bed.
but simon doesn’t care—he needs you too badly to care. “come’ere” he grunts as he drags your hips to the edge of the bed, shoving your nightgown up.
you’re too shocked to fight him, sure he’d be satisfied with his new pretty wife—at least for the first few weeks.
but of fucking course he’s not. you’re the only one he wants. with his cock still hard, still stained in his new wife’s juices, he slides into you with a groan.
your hands dig into the mattress, unwilling to tell him to stop now that he’s started.
“only been thinkin’ of you,” he mumbles as he begins a steady, but frantic, pace. “all fuckin’ day.”
you want to be mad. want to be upset. but you can’t. not when he clearly has been yearning for you, uncaring of his new wife.
“fuckin’ feel so good. needed you so bad.” he mumbles nonsense, already so close, just needing you for the end. “needed t’finish in you, darlin’.” thrust “Only cunt I wanna fill.”
and he does, filling you up after only a few more thrusts, rubbing you between your legs so he can feel you clench around him.
and when he’s done, his weight crushes you, pushing you into the mattress, your arms around each other. “only fuckin’ one I want,” he says almost in defeat, unaware he even said it out loud.
A Little Sugar 🍰 | Predatory!Rafe x Bimbo!Reader. ♡ FEM READER
-masterlist-
Warnings: Airhead reader, squirting, degradation, missionary, cowgirl & face slapping.
Note: I don't have anything particularly special to say, but this job took me a while.
You were in the kitchen, humming some pop song while mixing the batter for a chocolate cake. The ruffled pink apron was perfectly tied around your waist, and the smell of cocoa was already beginning to make the room sweet. To you, there was nothing more important in the world at that moment than that dessert. The problem was when you reached for the glass jar on the shelf and realized, with a small pout of frustration, that it was empty. There was no sugar. And a cake without sugar was... well, you couldn't even process something so horrible.
Since it was late and you didn't want to drive to the market, the solution flashed in your mind with the simplicity of a child: ask the neighbor. And the closest neighbor, conveniently, was Rafe Cameron.
Your friends always said that Rafe was unstable, dangerous, or "kind of crazy," but you never understood why. To you, he was always so helpful, always opening the door or giving that lopsided smile that made your cheeks burn. He was a sweetie, you thought, completely ignoring any red flags.
You abandoned the apron on the counter, fixed your hair in the reflection of the refrigerator, and left the house. Your high heels clicked against the pavement of the Camerons' porch, a rhythmic and loud sound that announced your arrival even before you rang the doorbell.
Inside, Rafe was sprawled on the living room sofa, enjoying the rare silence of the empty house. When the insistent knocking echoed, he let out a low growl.
"What a pain," he muttered, standing up with heavy steps. He had no patience for any of Sarah's drama or his father's lectures, but upon opening the door, his predatory and irritated expression crumbled instantly.
There you were, with that naive look and a bright smile that seemed out of place at that hour of the night.
"What are you doing here, sweetie?" Rafe asked, his voice softening but still heavy with intense curiosity. He leaned his body against the doorframe, his blue eyes sweeping you from top to bottom, probably thinking you were looking for his sister.
You put your hands behind your back, rocking your body back and forth on your heels, overflowing with that innocence that always left him disarmed.
"I came to ask for a little sugar," you said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to knock on a rich man's door at ten at night to ask for ingredients.
Rafe let out a nasal breath, a mixture of incredulous laughter and fascination. "Sugar..." he repeated, the word sounding almost like a joke in his mouth. "Sure. Come in, I can get it for you."
He stepped aside, making room with exaggerated courtesy, but the look he fixed on your back as you passed him was not "nice" at all. Rafe closed the door with a dull click, locking the world outside. To him, that jar of sugar was the most delicious pretext fate had ever dropped in his lap to finally have you alone, exactly where he wanted you.
You followed him down the hallway, watching the movement of his shoulders, having no idea that sugar was the last thing Rafe Cameron intended to give you that night.
Rafe walked to the kitchen with a casualness that hid the fact that he barely knew where the water filter in that house was. His daily life was a succession of alcohol-fueled parties and lines of powder in nightclub bathrooms; the Cameron kitchen was foreign territory to him. He opened the upper cabinet doors with a certain impatience, looking for any glass jar that contained the white powder you wanted so much, although, in his mind, the term "white powder" usually had a very different meaning.
"So, what do you need so much sugar for, anyway?" Rafe tossed the subject into the air, his voice dragging as he dodged a set of Rose’s porcelain.
"I was making a cake," you replied with that simplicity of yours that always left him disarmed.
Rafe let out a short laugh, a raspy sound of someone who found your existence a fascinating anomaly. "Yeah, that’s just like you."
You just tilted your head, not catching his affectionate tone of mockery, and waited. He finally found a heavy jar and placed it on the marble counter with a dry snap. "Well, there it is."
He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you approach to take the jar. A gentle and genuine smile lit up your face as you thanked him. "Thanks, Rafe. I’ll return it full tomorrow, I promise."
He just shook his head, his hands now sliding into his pants pockets. Sugar was the last thing that mattered to him, but seeing you there, in his kitchen, under the soft light of the recessed lamps, was a visual feast he wasn't ready to end.
"Wait a second... why not leave that cake for later? It’s not going to run away," he said, stepping out from behind the counter and shortening the distance between you with slow, predatory steps. "You know, company in the middle of the night is good. I’ve been feeling a bit... bored."
His voice came out in a serene tone, almost sweet, faking an ingenuity that matched yours, but his blue eyes shone with an intention you couldn't read. He seemed like just a lonely neighbor wanting to talk.
You stared at him for a moment, processing the invitation with that mind of yours that never saw malice in anything. "Oh, alright. I can stay for a bit. The cake can wait in the turned-off oven."
Rafe gave a lopsided smile, satisfied with the ease with which you yielded. He reached out, lightly touching your shoulder to guide you back to the living room, feeling the heat of your skin and already planning how to turn that "bit" into an entire night from which you would leave much more than just sweet.
Rafe settled into the expensive upholstery, throwing his body back with a dangerous ease, his legs spread wide, occupying almost half the space. He gave two slow taps on the seat right next to him, a silent invitation that you accepted without hesitation, sinking into the softness of the sofa.
You crossed your legs slowly, starting that rhythmic rocking with your feet that always caught his attention. Rafe couldn't help his gaze dropping to your heels; they were cute, delicate, and seemed totally improper for an "emergency mission" for sugar, which only made everything funnier and more exciting in his head.
The TV in front displayed the pause screen of some shooting game, the vibrant colors reflecting in the lenses of his eyes. With a quick flick of the controller, he turned the device off, leaving the room plunged only in the soft light of the lamps and the sound of your breathing.
"So, sweetie..." he began, turning his face to you and resting his arm on the back of the sofa, surrounding your space in a way that you, in your naivety, thought was just attentive. "Tell me more about this cake. Do you always cook, or only when you decide to show up at my door late at night?"
He gave a lopsided smile, his voice heavy with a malice he was struggling to keep under control, while his fingers drummed lightly on the leather of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder. Rafe loved how you seemed to be in a rose-colored world, while he was there, counting the seconds to see how far your "kindness" would let him go.
"No, it's nothing like that!" You laughed, shaking your head in a cute way. "Actually, I'm a disaster in the kitchen. I just felt like eating something sweet and thought a cake would be easy. But then the sugar vanished and... well, now I'm here."
Rafe let out a nasal laugh, the sound vibrating low in his chest as he watched you with that intensity that seemed to pierce through you. He leaned his body toward you, closing the space on the sofa until his knee brushed against your thigh, in a way that seemed too natural to be by chance.
"There are more interesting things you could be doing, you know?" He said in a voice that dropped to a heavy whisper.
Rafe rested his arm on the back of the sofa, surrounding you, while his blue eyes slowly descended to your mouth before returning to yours. There was a heavy malice there, a second intention he no longer bothered to hide, but which in your head seemed like just a very deep curiosity of his.
"You know, sweetie... there are much tastier things I can show you." He continued, his fingers now lightly brushing your nape, a warm touch that made your skin crawl instantly.
He gave that crooked smile, watching your reaction with predatory patience, waiting to see if you were going to understand the silent invitation or if he would have to be even more explicit with that little head of yours that only thought about sweets. For Rafe, the game was just beginning, and he was loving how vulnerable you looked sitting there, so close to him.
You tilted your head, blinking your long lashes with an expression of pure confusion, and let out a nasal giggle. "What, Rafe? What things?"
For a second, he wondered if you were playing with him or if you were really as stupid as you seemed; in the end, he decided it didn't matter, because he loved the emptiness of that expression of yours. Rafe slid his hand down your thigh, his thumb rubbing the fabric in slow, circular motions, while a cynical and predatory smile played at the corner of his lips.
"Let's play a game," he said bluntly, his voice getting raspier with every word.
"What game?" You looked at him expectantly, your eyes shining as if he were about to suggest a board game or something innocent.
"It's one that will make me very, very happy," he murmured, bringing his face close to yours until you could feel his breath on your cheek. "I can show you, but only if you promise to stay very quiet and do everything I tell you."
Rafe felt an almost animalistic impulse run through his body; your docility was the perfect fuel for his madness. Your doe eyes shone with the idea of a shared secret, and you didn't hesitate.
"Show me..." you asked, your voice sweet and eager. You uncrossed your legs slowly and snuggled even further into his space, giving small hops of excitement on the sofa that made his entire body tense.
Rafe let out a low laugh, almost a growl of satisfaction, while his hand moved from your thigh to your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a strength that was no longer that of a nice neighbor. He was loving how you surrendered without question, ready to be his new favorite toy.
Rafe wasted no time. The facade of the helpful neighbor crumbled in a second, giving way to the pervert he had always been. He leaned in even further, his warm breath now hitting directly against your ear, while the hand on your waist squeezed the fabric with a possessive urgency.
"Ever held a cock before, sweetie?"
The question was a dry, direct blow, as if he wanted to shatter whatever remained of your good-girl aura. Rafe didn't want to beat around the bush; he wanted to see your reaction, wanted to see the shock and desire fighting on that doll face of yours.
You remained silent for a few seconds, processing the word he used with such naturalness. The weight of the question made you bite your lower lip, a shy and hesitant gesture that made Rafe gasp audibly, his eyes fixed on the pressure of your teeth against the pink flesh of your mouth.
"Only once..." you whispered, your voice coming out almost like a breath of confession.
That was music to his ears. A slow, predatory smile spread across Rafe's face, his blue eyes shining with a sickly satisfaction. Only once? Almost pure. The idea that you barely knew what you were doing, that only one guy had gotten close to you, was the fuel his obsession was missing.
"Interesting..." he murmured, his voice vibrating in a way you felt in your stomach. "So you're almost a beginner, aren't you? A waste."
He slid his hand from your waist to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and slowly guiding them toward the rigid bulge that now deformed his pants.
"Let Rafe teach you how it's really done, sweetie..."
You made a dramatic pout, your shaped eyebrows rising in an expression of pure existential doubt, as if you were trying to solve a very difficult division problem. Rafe was so handsome, his jaw was so defined, and he smelled so good... you simply couldn't say no to him.
"Oh, Rafe... I don't remember the last time I did this," you murmured with a whiny voice, almost in a whisper, as you slowly blinked your long lashes. "Just be patient, okay?"
You brought your free hand to your hair, twirling a strand around your finger with genuine distraction, while the other hand, guided by him, felt the absurd heat emanating from under his jeans.
Rafe let out a low growl, his patience hanging by a thread, but the way you looked at him as if he were the master of the world and you just a doll wanting to play drove him completely frantic. He loved how futile you were, how your only concern seemed to be not smudging your gloss while admitting you didn't know what to do with him.
"Patient?" He repeated, his voice raspy and dangerous, as he pressed your palm against the rigidity of his pants. "I can try, sweetie. But if you forget what I teach you today... I'll have to punish you later, understand?"
You gave a silly giggle, finding the idea of a "punishment" fun, not noticing the obsessive gleam in his eyes. "Punishment? Like making me go without painting my nails for a week?" you asked, tilting your head and letting a bit of saliva glisten on your lower lip, making Rafe completely lose the rest of his remaining sanity.
He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his back straight and his jaw locked while you rode him. Rafe grabbed your ass with brute force, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your buttocks without any delicacy. He pulled you down violently, forcing every inch of that throbbing thickness inside you, stretching your walls to the limit of what was bearable.
"You're... too big..." You gasped, your voice coming out in a sharp whimper, your cheeks burning a sinful red as you felt his cock collide against your cervix with every downward stroke.
"Take it all, you little bitch," Rafe growled against your neck, his voice so raspy it sounded like thunder. "Swallow every inch of this cock and don't stop. I want to feel you tearing this pussy."
He didn't let you dictate the pace. His hands were like iron clamps on your hips, pounding you against him with a sickly urgency. The sound of flesh hitting hard was the only thing filling the room, a wet and visceral slap that accompanied your tearful moans. You squeezed his shoulders, your nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to find some balance while your pussy pulsed and squeezed his member in desperate spasms.
You felt tiny under his control, a doll being used to the limit. The pain stung, but the pleasure was an electric shock that fried the little reasoning you had left.
"That's it... bounce on my cock like the whore you are," he hissed, his blue eyes glazed at the way your breasts bounced and how your mouth hung open, drooling with pleasure.
Rafe gave an upward thrust and you let out a muffled scream, feeling his cock fill every vacuum of your body.
Rafe had no patience for delicacies. With an animal growl, he shoved his hand under your hip and grabbed the thin fabric of your pink panties. The sound of the spandex snapping was dry and violent; the fabric that covered your intimacy was now nothing more than useless rags tossed aside.
He didn't wait for you to process the shock. Rafe began to fuck you from the bottom up, his hips powering every thrust with a brute force that made your spine arch. He went deeper and deeper, seeking the bottom of your womb with every blow, wanting to mark his territory inside you in the most visceral way possible.
Your eyes rolled back, your pupils disappearing under heavy lids while that "butterflies in the stomach" feeling turned into a hurricane of pure electricity. You moaned like a sweet little girl, a high-pitched and needy sound that contrasted with the rawness of his movements.
"That's it... cry for me, sweetie," Rafe hissed through gritted teeth, his voice breaking from the effort as he buried you against the mattress with every upward thrust. "Feel the size of this? Feel how I'm finishing you off?"
He hit deep, with no rhythm for romance, just dry and wet thrusts that made a slap echo through the room. His hand moved up to your neck, squeezing lightly to keep you fixed while the thick cock continued the work of opening you in half. You were completely surrendered, feeling every inch of that rigid invasion transform your mind into a sweaty blur, where the only thing that mattered was the weight of his cock.
You tried to tilt your hips, seeking that whiny grind you thought you knew how to do, but Rafe didn't give you the slightest chance. His body was a wall of tense muscle and he kept you pinned, his hands like shackles of flesh on your hips, dictating a rhythm that had nothing to do with dancing and everything to do with dominance. He pounded you from the bottom up with a force that made your vision blur, each brute thrust tossing you upward only for him to pull you back to the axis of his thick cock.
Rafe let out a raspy groan, a sound heavy with excited irritation when he felt your attempt at control. "I told you to stay quiet," he hissed between his teeth, his voice vibrating with a dark authority.
Before you could process the command, his hand moved like lightning. The crack of the slap on your face echoed through the room, dry and humiliating. Your head snapped to the side and the heat of the mark of his fingers began to sting instantly on your fair skin, leaving a bright red trail on your doll cheek.
You let out a tearful murmur, a sound of pain and surprise that died in your throat as you felt the next thrust come even deeper, as if he wanted to punish your insolence through your pussy.
"That's it... focus on the pain, sweetie," he growled, his warm breath now against your stinging cheek. "Forget how to move and focus on how I'm opening you in half. You're mine now, understand?"
He continued to fuck you with visceral rawness, ignoring your tears of pleasure and pain, delighting in the way you trembled and cringed at every blow. For Rafe, there was nothing more addictive than seeing that red mark on your face while you were being filled.
Your voice came out in a thin thread, a high-pitched lament that got lost between the sound of flesh colliding with force. Tears of pleasure and pain began to overflow, tracing warm paths down your cheeks, one of them still pulsing with the heat of the slap he had just given you. You felt tiny, helpless under his dominance, your hands squeezing Rafe's broad shoulders in a silent plea for a truce.
"Rafe... slow... please..." you begged, your voice failing as you felt his thick cock hit the bottom of your womb with cruel precision.
Rafe let out a dark laugh, a sound that vibrated directly against your sweaty skin. Instead of answering your plea, he dug his hands even harder into your hips, his fingers leaving instant purple marks on your fair skin. He pulled you down with a jolt, making you swallow the rest of your request with a muffled scream.
"Slow?" he repeated, his voice heavy with excited scorn. "You come to my house late at night, with this smell of candy and this face like you don't know anything, and now you want me to go slow?"
He gave another thrust, this one so deep you felt your stomach turn in a wave of electric shock. Rafe tilted his head, his blue eyes flashing with a possessive madness as he watched your expression of agony and ecstasy.
"I'm going to stretch you out completely until you forget how to speak," he hissed, his warm breath now against your parted lips. "Forget 'slow'. You're going to take every inch of this cock until I decide you've had enough."
He accelerated the pace, transforming the thrusts into rhythmic and brutal blows that made your head bounce. You could no longer form words, just disconnected and whiny moans that fed his sickly ego. To Rafe, seeing you crying and trembling while being filled by him was the only sugar he needed to feel alive.
Rafe didn't give you time to breathe. In a sudden and possessive movement, he flipped you over to face the mattress, the weight of his body crushing you against the expensive sheets without the cock leaving you for a single second. The friction of that turn made you let out a sharp yelp, feeling his thickness scrape your internal walls in a way that made you see stars.
He pinned your wrists above your head with a single hand, acting like a gag of flesh and bone as he settled between your legs. In the missionary position, the contact was total; his sweaty chest pressed against yours, and Rafe's blue eyes were fixed on yours, burning with a maniacal intensity.
"Look at me, sweetie," he growled, his voice vibrating directly against your sternum as he withdrew almost the entire length to thrust into you with a force that made the bed hit the wall.
Your legs, acting on a purely animal and needy instinct, wrapped around his hips automatically, trapping him against you. You closed your eyes tight, your head sinking into the pillow as you felt every inch of that rhythmic and deep invasion. Rafe wasn't just fucking you; he was claiming you, every thrust was a dry blow that echoed in the silence of the room, turning your moans into whiny and disconnected whimpers.
"That's it... squeeze Rafey with that little sugar pussy," he hissed through gritted teeth, sweat dripping from his face onto your neck.
He accelerated, the blows getting shorter and more visceral, focused only on pushing you to the limit. You felt your stomach turn with the pressure, the butterflies from before were now electric discharges that made your toes curl inside the heels you were still wearing. Rafe roared low, burying his face in your neck and biting the skin there while pounding you with urgency, determined to come so deep you'd never be able to get the taste of him out of you.
Rafe let out a raspy, dark laugh when he felt your well-manicured nails tear the skin of his back. The sting of the cuts only served to further fuel the madness shining in those blue eyes. He loved the contrast: you, the perfect little girl, now had a red face, messy hair against the pillow, and a dirty mouth.
"Fuck, Rafe!" you screamed, your voice failing from the effort, the curses coming out between moans that echoed throughout the room.
"Look at that, she curses..." he hissed, finding it the funniest thing in the world to see you totally out of your mind.
"Where are your manners, huh? Where did all that sweetness go?"
He didn't slow down; on the contrary, the thrusts got even deeper and more heartless. Rafe pinned you against the mattress with his body weight, delighting in the sound of your screams. You no longer cared if Sarah or Ward could hear from across the hall; pleasure was a fire that had consumed any trace of your "shyness."
"Scream real loud so I can be sure you won't forget who's fucking you like this."
He gave a jolt, his hips hitting yours with a dry and wet slap, feeling your pussy squeeze his cock in waves of pure desperation. Rafe was loving every second of seeing you transformed.
Pleasure reached a peak your brain could no longer process. You locked your entire body, your toes curling inside your heels, and let out a sharp scream that died in a gasp of pure ecstasy. Rafe felt the crushing pressure of your pussy against his cock, a rhythmic and desperate squeeze that made him growl with satisfaction.
He stopped for a second, savoring the way you trembled under him, and then pulled his cock out slowly, a wet suction sound echoing in the room. The moment the head of his cock left your entrance, the recoil was inevitable: you squirted hard, a warm, clear jet that soaked his abdomen and drenched the expensive Cameron mattress beneath you.
Rafe let out a nasal, dirty laugh, his blue eyes shining at the sight of the dark stain spreading across the sheet. "Look at what you did, sweetie... what a delicious mess."
He didn't give you time to catch your breath. Without any warning, he pushed his cock back in, sliding in with absurd ease now that you were overflowing. With every brute thrust he gave, more liquid ran between your legs, wetting his thighs and making a splashing sound that left the room with a heavy smell of sex and lust.
"The more I fuck you, the more you melt, don't you?" Rafe hissed, his voice heavy with visceral malice as he pounded you with a force that made the liquid jump out. "Damn, you're coming so good."
He accelerated again, his hips slamming violently against yours, ignoring the fact that the mattress was soaked. To Rafe, seeing you slumped, eyes rolling, and gushing honey with every blow of his, was the final proof that he had broken you in the best way possible.
Rafe locked his jaw, the tendons in his neck bulging as he saw the mess you were making on his sheet. The vision of you squirting, completely surrendered and in thermal shock of pleasure, was the final trigger. He let out a low growl, almost a whimper of pain from being so excited, feeling his own pulse hammer in the head of his cock.
"Fuck, you're going to make me... now!" he hissed, his voice breaking as he felt the walls of your pussy signal the final squeeze, sucking him as if it wanted to tear his soul out through his cock.
He tilted his body even further forward, crushing your breasts against his sweaty chest, eliminating every millimeter of air that still remained between you. Rafe dove into short, fast, and desperate thrusts, ignoring the loud splashing sound the liquid made between your thighs. He was drenching you and you were giving it back double, a warm moisture that lubricated the friction and made everything even more visceral.
His blue eyes were fixed on yours, dilated in a maniacal way, as he felt the pressure rise. He grabbed your arms with brute force, keeping you fixed in place for the final impact.
"I'm going to come in this pussy!"
With a roar that echoed off the bedroom walls, Rafe gave one last thrust, burying himself so deep he seemed to want to go through your body. He locked inside, his body having violent spasms as he poured jets and more jets of a warm, thick come deep inside your womb, mixing his honey with your mess, in an explosion that left you both trembling and breathless on the soaked mattress.
୨୧price loves to see his cum on your freshly manicured nails
price is a nasty old man. as much as he tries to hide it from the public, you, his sweet little girlfriend, have seen all of his worst moments.
a particularly bad one is any and all times you get your nails done. he'll drive you to the salon, pay for the entire set, (even though you got a mani pedi instead of just a pedi) help you find inspo, even talk with your nail tech. he's a fan favorite at the hole in the wall shop you go to.
on the drive home, his eyes are glued to your hands; not a cuticle, botched shape or scratch in sight. his favorite part?
the huge, glittery 'j.p.' on each of your ring fingers. other drivers flip him off because he's nearly caused 3 accidents already. not like he notices, or cares. you encourage staring, flipping your hands like crazy.
your insta story is blasted with pics of your nails, but not without mention of your spoiling boyfriend. "new set new me! and ofc my man paid for them<3"
what instagram doesn't see is those same nails gliding down his dick, sting of the acrylic hurting so good.
"fuck, just like that, darling," he groans, air thick with the scent of sex. looking down, he's met with your teary eyes and drooly mouth, trying to shove his whole length down in one go.
"shit-be careful. inch by inch, it'll get in. i know it will." he watches in amusement as you stop choking yourself, smile cracking on your sweet, lipgloss and cum stained lips. you take your mouth off with a pop, going for stroking his hard shaft instead.
deep down, you and him know 'slowing down' is mainly just an act. in times like these, when he could barely walk out a store without his hard on showing, there's no such thing as slowing down. only intention. delicious, careful intention.
within minutes, price's ears are filled with sounds of your gagging, tight throat barely taking him in. every bob is a new sensation, another opportunity for him to cum like he never has before.
"m mouth ish hurtin,'" you whine, slobber connecting your mouth to the base. his eyes roll up in ecstasy. "take a little more f' me, i know you can do it."
his big, meaty hands are pushing your head down, cutting off your airflow with a loud groan. instinctively, your throat clamps down, another wave of pleasure taking the man by surprise.
braced against his thighs, your saliva covered hands are bracing themselves, nails digging into the thick flesh. it's hard not to gag when your nose is grazing his stomach, inhaling his faint musk.
by the way he's groaning, curses flowing out his mouth, he's sure to be unraveling soon. balls raising, teeth clenching, he tugs your heavenly mouth off.
"please, use your hands." tables flipping, he begs you to finish him off. with a wide grin on your face, you stroke up and down his dick, thumbs circling his tip at an agonizing pace.
head thrown back, his hair glistens under the low light of the lamp. your simple motions have turned the mighty captain into a crumbling mess. the shining floor squeaks under his shoes as he braces them against it.
"fuck, i'm cumming-" teeth grinding, he can barely stop himself from shouting. white hot heat floods his stomach, coil snapping in seconds.
thick, salty ropes paint your hands, cum stringing your delicate fingers together. no matter how loud he groans, you don't stop.
he's shooting blanks by time you stop stroking, blue eyes crossed and piercing. mouth hung open, silent moan choking out, he's the perfect picture of pleasure. "oh my god," he finally breathes.
with a wince, he looks back down. his gorgeous girlfriend smiling, baby pink nails covered in so much cum they're barely recognizable. despite his orgasm painting your nails, his intials, glitzing like diamonds are still visible.
silence hangs in the air for a while, excluding the sound of his cum dripping onto the floor. finally, he speaks up. "you're going to be the death of me, sweets."
"that's why you love me, isn't it?" your head rests on his cheek, lovingly looking into his still blown out eyes. "unfortunately, yes." that earns him a slap.
maintenance of the pool gives simon a migraine—he's like a territorial dog when it comes to his house, he'd rather die than let some strange man come into his house and fix whatever needs fixing, professional or not. so often simon finds himself putting his back into the maintenance.
but good lord, when he works up a sweat and finally sits back on a baby pink sunchair, he finds it allll worth it.
from his view of the sunchair, does simon see you rise from the water like a pretty little mermaid, water droplets running down your skin that's beginning to tan from the many days you spend in the sun, in the pool.
sexy, sexy thing you are. you have on this tiny little bikini, so you have the most exposure to the sun as possible. "i'm trying to get a tan for the summer!" you said to him when he bought you it. simon actually didn't give a fuck what you wore to swim, he would prefer you even swim without anything on at all—now that would be something he could watch for hours.
"simon," you call. simon instantly redirects his focus on you, seeing you bat your pretty wet lashes at him. "yes, lovie?" he immediately answers. what do you need? a drink? another ice cream? lord please ask him to rub on some more sunscreen on you.
"can i have a sip of your lemonade?"
simon deflates. but instantly perks up because what his lady wants she gets. he rises from the chair he's been sitting in for hours and walks to the edge of the pool, squatting and lowering down his cold glass of lemonade that has a pink straw in it. you made the lemonade of course, so it tastes good naturally 'cuz everything his lady does is effortless in his eyes.
he gets hypnotized by the way you move in the water. nice and slowly. you grab onto the ledge, pulling yourself up and wrapping your lips around the straw, closing your eyes taking a nice relieving sip.
simon takes a greedy look of you now that you're upclose. he himself is turning red from sunburn but you look delectable; his eyes closely follow the droplets that run down the valley of your breasts and neck, and finds fascination in your new tan lines.
"ah," you sigh, unwrapping your lips from the straw. you look back up at him, crinkling your eyes as you smile more warmly than the sun has ever felt on simon's skin even in the sweltering heat of afghanistan.
"thank you!" you chirp, then turn around and begin to paddle back to your waterbed for some more tanning.
this pool is the best investment he's ever made—right next to mesh bikinis he's about to buy you..
what if your best friend rafe walks in on you pleasuring yourself, and takes offence because why use a toy when you can use him instead? mdni 18+
"fuck, yess" you moan, the vibrator on the third level, as you push it in and out of your very wet cunt. all you can think about is rafe, his big biceps holding him up, as he's leaning over you pounding in and out of you. his silver chain dangling in your face, as small droplets of sweat develop on his forehead.
"you like that?" he asks you as he leans back, bringing your legs up against his chest as his mouth falls open. his eyes dark as they watch you in bliss as your eyes roll back in pleasure. "oh i love it" you respond breathy, and teary eyed.
each of your moans, sending him closer and closer to his own high. "this pretty pussy is gonna make me cum" he says, and you lift your legs up off his chest, wrapping them around his waist as you pull him down, body flush against yours. you grab his face, placing a kiss on his lips. "cum inside me then" you say against his lips, and that was all he needed before he-
"y/n?" you hear, and you immediately scramble to cover yourself with your blanket your small day dream interruptedly over. "shit" you mutter to yourself, cheeks hot and red of embarrassment, while the one and only rafe is staring right at your blanket covered body with wide eyes.
“um, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, but he obviously knows since he stood there long enough to contemplate stopping you, loving the small show you were putting on. you open your mouth, then close it again. “i uh nothing. i was just-”
“nothing?” he repeats, stepping fully inside, shutting the door behind him a little too quickly, out of habit, considering you live alone. your face burns, “rafe, don’t, just forget it, okay? just get out!” you say loudly. but your words are falling on deaf ears.
his eyes flick down despite you kicking him out, then snap back up to your face. that’s when you notice it. the way his eyes are glossy and almost glazed over with want, the way he’s shifting uncomfortable, like his pants are tight. “you’re using a toy?” he says, almost in disbelief, like that’s the part he’s stuck on. “what?” you asked confused as to why he would even care. you’re just friends you thought, right? “why do you even care?” you ask avoiding his question.
he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “why do i…are you serious right now?” you frown, still clutching the blanket. “i’m serious. why are you here?”
“i have a key,” he says immediately. “you forgot?” you roll your eyes, irritation cutting through the embarrassment. “yeah, well, i’m regretting that right about now.” “yeah?” he mutters, stepping closer. “that so?”
“rafe, get out,” you say again, firmer this time, but it only makes things worse. instead of leaving, he walks over and sits on the edge of your bed, like this isn’t the most humiliating moment of your life. your eyes widen as you instinctively back up, heart racing. “what are you doing?” you ask, in a small panic. “you’re kicking me out,” he says, “but you weren’t exactly shy a second ago.”
“oh my fucking- shut up” you groan, even more mortified. “can you not?”
“what?” he tilts his head, watching your reaction. “you think i didn’t see you thrusting your vibrator in and out of that very wet pussy of yours?” the way he asks that, sends a pulse straight down your legs. “y-you weren’t supposed to!” you snap, your grip tightening on the blanket, trying now to let him know how aroused you are for him right now. “yeah,” he mutters, “i got that.”
there’s a pause as he leans forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs. “that thing,” he says, nodding vaguely, “that’s what you want?” you blink, thrown off. “what are you even talking about?” he drags a hand over his face, like he’s trying to collect himself. “i’m saying, you’re in here, by yourself, when you don’t have to be.” you lightly gasp at that, never in a million years thinking those would be the words coming out of his mouth.
“rafe..” you start, but you don’t even know what you want to say. he leans in just a little closer, close enough to make your heart beat out your chest. “you really think i’d rather you use that instead of me?” your mind goes blank.
“wh-why would-” you start, but the way his eyes darken at the thought, his tongue licking his lips like he’s devouring you in his mind, makes you lose all train of thought. yet you not answering cretas a filthy suggesting in his own mind, like something just clicked,
you literally watch it happen in real time, the teasing smirk changing from something seductive to, a lightbulb turning on. “wait,” he says quietly. “no” you cut him off, “you were,” he cuts in, eyes narrowing slightly. “weren’t you?” you shake your head too quickly. “no.” but your voice is so unsure, it answered the question for him.
a slow breath leaves him as realization settles in. “jesus,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you differently now. “you were getting off, thinking about me.” he says, not even as a question anymore.
you stay silent as the room feels like it’s getting smaller on you. he leans in closer, not touching you yet, but close enough you think he can hear how loud your heart is beating. “that’s why you want me to leave?” he murmurs.
you’ve become so unequivocally shy, you don’t even trust your voice anymore. but in this moment you want rafe so bad, too bad, so you nod. the corner of his mouth twitches up, while he lets a low exhale escape. he draggs a hand through his hair, for the fifthteenth time in shock, like he doesn’t know what to do with this new information, as if he’s not consumed by how much he suddenly wants you. “you have no idea what you just-” he starts, but you cut him off before he can finish.
“just shut up and kiss me already,” you say, your eyes locked on his. his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, tension snapping between you. that’s all it takes.
whatever restraint he had left is gone as he closes the distance, one hand coming up to your face, the other bracing against the bed as he pulls you into him. the kiss is everything that’s been building crashing together at once, and suddenly the embarrassment, the awkwardness, all of it fades away.
“show me what you want me to do to you” he asks against your lips, his hand drops from your face to pull and push away the blanket covering your half naked body. he breaks the kiss to stare you down, as you begin do fully undress, and holy fuck did he love every moment of this. “you have too many clothes on” you smirk looking back at him, as you move closer towards him. he’s so mesmerized by the bounce of your perky plump breasts. “she’s not so shy now is she?” he teases.
you roll your eyes, as you place light kisses, sucking and nibbling on his neck a little, as you begin to pull his white tee off his body, revealing his beautiful chest. you disconnect from his neck, and watch as his hands shoot up to caress your breasts, each one getting separate attention.
you mouth fall a little open, a small moan escaping your lips, “fuck you’re too mesmerizing like this” he says to you. you swing your leg over, straddling him, “am i?” you tease. you push his chest so he’s laying flat on your bed, as you press soft kisses against his chest, slowly making your way down, until you reach the waistband on his light colored grey sweatpants. his bulge exposing how turned on he is. you look up at him, his eyes watching every move you make, his head slightly tilting back, already so drunk of lust.
you hook your finger on the waistband of his sweats pulling it down, his hips slowly raising to help you, and you run your hands over his compressed cock. wanting to tease him as pay back for him walking in on you. you stick your tongue out as you drag your tongue over his cock covered by his boxers. “fuck y/n” he moans “don’t tease me like this” he pleads with you.
you smirk up at him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as you drag your tongue along the outline of his cock through the thin fabric. his boxers are already damp with precum, and you can feel him twitch under your touch.
"oh, i think you deserve a little teasing," you mutter against him, your breath hot. your fingers curl under the waistband of his boxers this time, pulling them down just enough to free him. he's thick, cock angry already leaking.
god, is he fucking perfect, just like you imagined it.
you wet your lips, making sure he watches, before pressing a soft kiss to the tip. his hips jerk involuntarily, and he curses under his breath, his hand tangling in your hair just holding, cause he knows he needs to grab onto something or he’ll absolutely collapse under you. "y/n," he growls, his voice wrecked. "don’t fucking play with me, please" he begs this time. you feel yourself wetter at the sounds of his begging for you.
but you love playing with him. so you wrap your lips around him, taking him deeper, and he groans, his head falling back. "oh fuck, just like that." his grip tightens slightly, just enough to let you know he’s losing control.
you glance up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring the way his thighs tremble when you suck lightly. his fingers flex in your hair. "holy fuck," he rasps, his breathing getting heavier through his strangled moans, "you look so fucking pretty like this."
you hum around him, the vibration pulling another broken moan from his lips. his hips buck slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth, but you pull back just enough to tease, dragging your lips along his length with a slow, wet kiss. "rafe baby" you mumble against his skin, "you taste so good."
he lets out a sharp breath, his grip tightening just a fraction. "yeah? then stop fucking torturing me and take me all the way." oh boy do you love a challenge. with a smirk, you sink down, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat and his groan is so fucking filthy, echoing in the quiet bedroom.
"fuck just like that," he grits out, his fingers threading tighter in your hair. "don’t stop." and you don’t. because seeing rafe unravel like this, for you? worth every second of teasing. his breaths keep coming ragged, as you continue to messily take him. your lips warm and wet from the saliva.
his hand lets go of your hair as he fists the sheets, hips twitching fighting to not roughly fuck your mouth. "you’re gonna kill me," he chokes out, his abs flexing as he watches you with half lidded eyes. you pull off with a wet pop, grinning up at him as you swipe your thumb over the tip, spreading his precum. "thought you wanted to replace my toy, not just watch." you remind him, sucking your thumb of his precum.
his nostrils flare, a muscle ticking in his jaw, as he watches you suck your finger. he then pulls you up towards him, before he flips you onto your back, caging you beneath him. his mouth crashes into your, so hungry, tasting himself on your tongue.
"oh, i’ll replace it," he says against your lips, "but i’m not letting you call the shots anymore."
and then his hand finally slips between your thighs, and you shutter with a gasp as his warm fingers play with your sensitive clit. “oh yes, rafe’ you softly moan. "say it again," he growls, dragging his fingers through your slick lips. "say my name like that when i’m inside you."
his smirk is predatory as he hovers over you, the silver chain dangling against your collarbone, the weight of it cool against your heated skin. one hand pins your wrist above your head while the other teases lower, fingertips tracing circles that make your back arch off the mattress.
“this what you were thinkin’ bout?” he aks against your ear, fingers moving in a faster motion. “me? playing with this pretty pussy like this?” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulder as he adds a second finger, pushing both fingers deep inside, curling them just so fucking right, the way only he would know how. your hips jerk up, chasing the friction, slowing his movements to a torturous pace.
“nuhuh” he mutters, nipping at your earlobe. “you wanted to teast me right? now i get to play.” he says, his head lowering to your breasts. his mouth engulfing your right nipple, as he flicks his tongue in up and down motions, swirling and nibbling at it.
his thumb swirls against your clit, and you swear you see stars. “tell me” he demands, face now between your breasts, tone dark with want, need even. “tell me what you were imagining earlier”
you let out another whimper, annoyed this time as his fingers withdraw completely, leaving you achingly empty. “please” you manage to say. “words princess, use your words” he says, as he gets up, on his knees hovering over your body. quickly fully taking off his boxers, you watch him jerk his own cock, as those ocean eyes lustfully gaze down at you, and you swear the sight alone could make you cum right now.
he pushes lifts your legs, widening them as he lines his throbbing cock with your cunt. he rubs the tip slowly, against your clit, to your entrance, only letting the smallest amount in, still awaiting your answer. “you wanted me to fuck you?” he asks, his pace getting agonizingly slower the longer you don’t answer. “say it” he says.
the small stretch burns in such a good way, “yes” you moan out as he no longer cares for the answer, needing you as bad as you need him, sinking his cock deeper into you. your thighs tremble, as he pulls out and repeats the motion, finding a new depth everytime. he pauses for a second, like he heard your answer delayed, so engulfed in the fact that he’s really about to fuck his best friend. “yeah?” he questions. and you glare up at him. “yes rafe, fuck me. i want you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk after.” you say, an attitude appearing.
his grin is wicked. "since you asked so nicely." he teases, kissing your ankle that’s up by his head, as he fully thrusts into you, a loud moan escaping both your lips as your tight cunt takes all of him, gripping his cock. “fuuck, you’re taking me so well” he says breathless. “like it was fuckin’ made for me” he says running his free hand across his face, in disbelief of the feeling, pure bliss.
you were getting closer. so much closer. you could feel the heat coiling at the base of your spine, ready to snap with just a few more strokes. but rafe has other ideas, suddenly pulling out with a low groan. like he himself hates the disconnect . “no! why-” you start, but he grabs your waist, turning you over, pushing you onto your stomach with a firm hand, cutting off your protest. "on your knees," he instructs, yanking your hips up. your stomach sinks with anticipation and nervousness.
you obey, rising to your knees, thighs trembling. his hands skim up your sides, then he leans forward, his mouth close to your ear. "you trust me, baby?" he asks, voice rasp.
you nod. “good” he says with a smirk. his hand cups your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze. “but i need words. you trust me?” you lick your lips outta nervousness nodding with a light “yes rafe.”
his thumb brushes your lower lip before he releases your chin, trailing his hand down your spine in a slow, possessive stroke. "then let me show you," he says, gripping your hips tight as he thrusts his cock into you, harder this time. your breath catches as he fills you completely, the stretch bordering on painful, giving him more access than the last position. “so deep rafe” you moan.
he doesn’t move at first, letting you adjust, his chest pressed against your back as he drops rough kisses along your shoulder. "breathe," he coaxes, and you exhale shakily, your body relaxing into him. then he pulls out, almost all the way. you still hadn’t fully adjusted to the length or his size. you nails dig into your sheets, “rafe” you lightly warned.
“i got you” he promises, before slamming back into you. you cry out, pleasure sparking, as he sets a brutally fast pace, each thrust driving you deeper into the mattress. his hands dig into your hips so hard you know you’ll bruise. but you know he’s doing it to mark you. and the thought makes you clench even tighter around him.
“this what you wanted?” he grits out breathy his voice wanting to sound possessive and dominant, but it betrays him with the moan that follows, “me..” he slows out, the feeling of your cunt squeezing him become a vulnerable mess. “me fucking you like this? taking what’s mine?
you also can barely even form words, that same orgasm you were chasing earlier creeping up with every pounding thrust. he hits that sweet spot that makes your vision blur, eyes rolling so far back you’re not sure how your eyes don’t fall out of your head. he chuckles, but it’s so dark and villanous sounding. “yeah you’re all fucking mine. say it” he demands.
you’re too far gone to resist, to make any fully conscious decisions at this point. you’d even say yes to marriage if he’d ask you right now. “i’m yours” you say raspy, uncontrollably. “i’m all yours” you repeat. he rewards you with a thrust so deep you see stars, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he also chases it, chases that moment when you both shatter for each other.
you cum first, clenching him so tightly, as his cock feels your cunt throbbing. you let out a moan so loud it comes off as a scream, “rafe, ugh fuck!” you let out, hands gripping the sheets your knuckles turn white, hips still grinding on him, as you twitch.
rafe swears he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful than this moment, watching you come undone for him. your ass grinding on him matched with your screams of his name was enough to send him over the edge, he goes to pull out, but your hands fly to his hips as you lean back. “cum inside me” you tell him, “please cum inside me” you beg.
his gaze snaps to yours. it’s darkened, the intensity there making your heart beat faster. he seems almost shocked, like he didn’t expect you to say that, to ask for that. “oh you’ve fucking ruined me” he growls. but he’s cut off by his cum covering your walls, “fuck y/n” he moans. “shit baby” he says, hands still on your hips, but he softens his touch as he falls lighty onto of you. not wanting to pull out.
his hips roll forward again, slower now, drawing out the last waves of pleasure as he fills you completely. a shudder runs through him, and you can feel his pulse where your bodies are joined.
he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like he's trying to clear it. then, with sudden purpose, he turns your head towards him, and captures your lips in a kiss that's softer than before, filled with way more passion, not just hunger. when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, eyes closed.
"i’m serious, you’ve ruined me," he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone. like he just found something precious, but also found what could destroy him. you unfortunately move up, his cock falling out of you, as you turn to face him completely.
but the way he looks at you you'll never forget it. his gaze is longingly and so soft, what was once dark and filled with lust has completely changed, now raw and vulnerable.
for a moment, neither of you speak. the silence seems to stretch on forever, until he runs a hand over your cheek, "that really happened," he mutters. "regrets?" you tease, though your voice is shaky and nervous now. he jokingly glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. only his lazy satisfied smirk you know way too well. “yeah, should’ve walked in on you sooner.” he says
you laugh, swatting his chest. he catches your wrist, pulling you closer against him until you’re curled into his side. his fingers trace idle patterns on your hip, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
“next time, skip the toy and send me a text or something” he teases, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you glance up at him, a smirk on your lips now, “make me" you say. his laugh is undeniably dangerous,
WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ porn with little to no plot, praise kink, dirty talk, age difference, slight breath play, mentions of boxing, fem terms used, aftercare at the end.
NOTES ⭑.ᐟ once again, you’re responsible for the content you consume, read at your own risk.
WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ 1.0k
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ hello!! likes, reblogs, & requests are appreciated and encouraged. thank u for the love 🐆
rafe was a force in the boxing world. with his gruff voice, buzzed blonde hair, thick biceps, bulging veins and that sharp jawline— he was impossible not to fall for.
you’d shown up to one of his matches, your eyes gleaming everytime he swung on his opponent, that hazy look returning to your face when his veins bulged. with your short denim skirt, cropped t-shirt, and high heels— he found it hard not to pounce on you.
he’d see you at almost seven more matches after that, your outfits getting skimpier time and time again, your eyes catching his more often than not.
he hunted you down after the match, sweet talking you till you agreed to go out with him, a grin on his lips as he listened to the click, click! of your nails as you typed in your phone number.
that was almost a year ago, time passing by quickly the longer you were together. matches got longer and your skirts got shorter, his possessive attitude growing stronger and stronger by the day.
you basically lived with him at this point— having a drawer in his dresser with your clothes in it, a section in his bathroom that held your toiletries and your makeup bag, a side of the pantry filled with your favorite snacks, as well as your own spot in his bed.
he’d had a little over a week off from matches, spending all of his free time in bed with you— high or not. today, you had been draped over his lap, trying to work yourself out of his hold, little hazy giggles leaving your lips everytime he tightened his grip.
which is how you ended up here— with your face wedged between his chest and his forearm, your hips in a tight hold, gruff moans and your lazy mewls filling the bedroom.
“take it, baby,” he groaned, his forearm tightening around your neck, “take it like i know you can.”
your pussy clenched around him, a choked moan leaving your lips as you scratched at his arm, your lipstick smudged from his kisses. “m’takin’ it— m’takin’ it!” you whined, your cheek smushed against his tan skin.
his forearm squeezed again, not enough to cut off your oxygen but enough to make you feel it, enough to make the heat in your lower belly burn hotter than before. “yeahhhh, fuckin’ look at you, baby, ditzy as hell on my dick, huh?”
he pulled you back against his chest, watching the way your eyes rolled back into your skull, the bounce of your tits from the roughness of his thrusts, the whines that spilled from your plump lips. his pace picked up more, a ringed hand snaking down your torso, calloused fingertips rubbing your clit in messy circles.
“c’mon, baby,” he groaned, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “you were so mouthy earlier, thinking you could fight me, what happened to that, baby? too cock-drunk to think, huh?”
your moans grew louder, thighs squeezing around the fingers between your legs, squirming against his chest. “rafe— rafe, please, s’too much.” you whined, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, a muffled moan falling from your lips.
he hummed roughly, pulling you closer against him, his fingers working faster against your clit. “nah, baby, s’not too much. my tough girl can take it, yeah? can cum for me like a good girl, huh?”
he felt you clench around his dick, a groan leaving his lips, tucking his face into your neck as he worked you faster. “c’mon, baby, give it to me. make me proud.”
that’s all it took to push you over the edge. a hot, white flash rushed through your body, a loud mewl falling against his forearm, your pussy creaking around his dick. he groaned at the feeling, spilling into you with a longer groan this time, his fingers slowing against your clit.
he exhaled slowly, feeling your body slump against him, a roughened chuckle leaving his lips. “y’good, baby?”
his voice was softer now, his touch gentle against your skin, holding you up against him as your thighs wobbled, holding back a grin at the hazy look in your eyes. “m’okay..”
he huffed out a chuckle against your neck, his arms lacing your torso as he mumbled quietly. “nah, baby, don’t fall asleep on me— still gotta clean you up, baby. make sure you’re nice and clean.”
you let out a grumble as his arms slid under your legs, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom, your face tucked away against his neck. “love you.”
he hummed quietly, pressing a light kiss to your neck. “love you more, beautiful.”
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