~ 18+ mdni!! breeding kink rafe fucking into you from behind and spilling out the filthiest shit ever.
“gonna knock you up silly”
“look so pretty with my kids in your tummy”
“gotta make sure it sticks… face down, ass up just like this”
“your cunt’s incredible”
“so fucking sloppy,,, leaking just f’r me” and you’re just slack jawed and moaning high, whimpering and fucking back onto him like your life depends on it,,, fucking yourself silly and trying to get it to stick; wanna be full of him, have it dripping everywhere.
“yeah? this pussy’s g’na be fucked and filled over and over … make you the best mommy to those kids”
and then he gets soft and says something like, “can’t wait to call you mommy forever and ever”
which ends up making your entire body go taut and and orgasm gets ripped out of you. clenching around rafe and whining at the top of your throat. “yeah, yeah . g’nna be the best mommy for you”
cut to you getting flustered whenever rafe calls himself daddy and you mommy’,,,
“‘m gonna be the best daddy. got the best momma right by my side bc of it”
back to rafe fucking you from behind, face down ass up and leaning over your back.
“your cunt’s made for this, yeah? made for being full of my kids?”
“dunno if i can share you yet… all the babies are g’na get all your attention”
“gonna fill you up over and over, ‘til it’s spilling out of you”
“your pussy’s been made to be bred. g’nna make you pregnant all year round”
you fucking back onto his dick, want to get it so so so so deep to try to get it to stick, doesn’t hurt to feel your lover’s cock scramble your insides, feel it so deep that you feel it in your throat?
“want your babies, ray. want your babies, want your kids. wann’em, wann’em, wann’em” you’re slurring, pathetically crying and fucking back onto him as if somehow it’ll take in that instantaneous moment. “please, pleaseplease — need it, need it to stick. please rafe.” fffffbdhdhsh
the music was too loud, every bass drop pressed into your chest and echoed through your bones. colored lights flickered across the crowded frat house, turning everything into a blur of motion and noise. sukuna promised it would just be you and him hanging out, with maybe a few of his friends there. It definitely was not.
you stared down at the half eaten brownie in your hand, your vision blurred and unclear. “I don’t think this is… normal,” you mumbled, squinting at the treat rested in your hand.
“yeah, no shit. who gave it to you?” the voice came from right beside you—low, amused, and entirely too familiar despite your dizzied state.
you turned your head slowly, like it took effort, and there he was, sukuna. tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his black shirt, his posture relaxed like he owned the place.
“this tall guy.. he had brown hair, two ponytails, and he was with Yyuki..” you whispered as if your own words had confused you.
“goddamn you choso,” he sneered more to himself than anyone. the room seemed to tilt slightly, you grabbed his sleeve without thinking and he instinctively gripped onto your forearm. “you’re fine babe,” he said, glancing down at your arm but not pulling away. “you’re just high.”
“It feels weird, I dont like it. everything feels floaty.” your head tipped, resting lightly against him. he pressed a palm to your forehead, forcing it further on his shoulder. “relax. i got you.”
Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers, smut, angst
Summary: During Midsummers, Rafe finds it hard to keep himself away from you. The secret of your love in danger, how much longer can either of you keep it before its revealed?
Tags: friends with benefits to lovers, forbidden romance, secret lovers, ownership, blackmail, mutual pining, slight cnc play (nothing particularly bad this time), drug use (cocaine), sex under the influence, light dacryphilia, hair pulling, vaginal sex, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, name calling, possessiveness, edging, overstimulation (male), greek myth references, dom!rafe, sub!reader.
Part 2 < | > Part 4
****
Every kid had a Greek mythology phase, and Sarah had been no exception. Rafe remembered young Sarah devouring any book with the words “Greek Myths” written on it then babbling about different stories she’d read, and read them to their baby sister at night. She then started an annoying habit of comparing people she knew to Greek gods, however shallow and obvious they might be. His father found it cute and was proud she'd compared him to Zeus. She'd said their real mother was Hera, and baby Wheezie became a young Artemis. She, of course, was Athena. Rafe never fully appreciated what God she'd given him.
Hades, King of the Underworld and God of the Dead.
At the time, teenage Rafe did not appreciate being compared to a villain. But, as he grew up, he realized that Hades was far from a malicious figure. A person thrown deep into the underworld by his brothers, he was an outcast condemned to a lonely existence. While firm in his judgements and punishments, Hades was not outright evil. The guy simply did his job. Rafe knew the feeling. Even with his family, he never truly felt a part of them. He had to earn his place there; he needed his father's approval to get any kind of acceptance. Hades might have felt the same way. While other Olympian gods received their place, Hades needed to earn his spot on Mount Olympus. As they basked in the sun, he stayed plunged in darkness, living amongst the dead.
But, that isn't entirely true. Hades did have someone to fill the void in his heart. Persephone. Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld. He'd supposedly desired her for a long time, and eventually asked Zeus's permission to have her. Sarah said Hades kidnapped Persephone and tricked her into staying in the underworld, by giving her six pomegranate seeds from the underworld. This ended up binding her to him for six months, while she went to earth for the other six. Rafe always imagined an ethereal beauty being whisked away in a field of flowers, carried across the River Styx, and forced to be a bride. He pictured her upon a throne, Hades at her side and admiring her more than anything else.
Rafe could get behind that. Has he not done something similar with you? Using the sexual content he'd found of you, he bound you to him. If you tried leaving, he'd expose you. He'd tell everyone that you were a slut who'd do anything for some cash. He'd show his friends what you looked like naked and tell the girls the dirtiest things he can think of. Nobody would see you the same again. You'd be bullied and humiliated by it, and it'd serve you right for rejecting him.
At least, that's how he felt at first. Two months into this strange relationship of yours, Rafe began seeing you differently. Not entirely, of course, he always saw you as a goddess walking amongst men, but in another way. A softer, more innocent way that made him uncomfortable because of how foreign it felt. When he gave you the necklace, he'd done it with the small hope you might want more. Maybe you could move past what he'd done, and open yourself to him. You'd thanked him, smiled brightly, but said nothing he'd imagined you would. No ‘Rafe, I love you’ or ‘Rafe, let's be together forever’. You'd only said:
“Rafe, I thought we agreed on no romantic gestures.”
He remembered your playful, teasing smile stabbing him in the chest. How could you not know by now? He liked to think his feelings for you were obvious over the years. He flirted with you any chance he got; he sought you out in places just to see your face. In eighth grade, he'd put flowers in your locker with his initials on the card. Okay, so occasionally he threw in an insult or typical bullying tactic to throw his friends off the game, but he liked you a lot. Rafe thought a woman as smart as you would figure that out. He supposed he was wrong.
“You ready, Rafe?”
His dad's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Rafe saw him in the mirror. His father wore a nice suit with his dark hair and beard trimmed. Midsummers. Fucking Midsummers.
“Yeah, I'm going,” Rafe replied, putting on the usual indifferent tone he used.
“We're gonna be heading out soon. You'll follow in your truck?”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping you from entering his mind as he fixed his bowtie.
“Alright, see you there. Don't be late.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Rafe didn't mind Midsummers, honestly. It was a good chance to party with his friends with free drinks and plenty of drugs. They honored his dad for some old council thing nobody cared about, so he had to forgo a night with you for appearances. He used to be excited about possible hookups like last year, but not anymore. Other women no longer measured up to you. He grew bored with them too easily; so much so that he didn't bother with them. Rafe only flirted to keep up his image these days, going after girls he knew his friends approved of. He felt nothing for them. He preferred spending his night with you.
Rafe finished straightening himself out, then went downstairs. Sarah stood in the foyer, sour faced and blond in her long white dress and Wheezie beside her in pink. The pair noticed him coming, and he couldn't help himself.
“Shouldn't you be with your Pogue boyfriend right now?” he asked, sounding cocky with his smirk.
“I will be. He's my guest,” she said back smugly.
Great, a night around Pogues. He bet anything Kie invited one of the others, and Pope's father and JJ are working the event. Rafe suddenly wanted to go less, unless…
“Then that means little YN is coming too,” he said, getting his keys from his pocket. “Who else would Kie's guest be?”
“You leave YN alone. She's not interested in you.”
He snorted as he walked past her. “This night just got even better!” he called over his back before going out the door.
This certainly added another incentive to go after all. Getting into his truck, he instantly pulled out his phone.
“Your loser friends are going to Midsummers. Are you?”
It only took you a minute or so to reply: “Yeah. Kie invited me as her guest. Why? Eager to see me?”
“Very.”
The two weeks since your last meeting dragged on. Not having you was like trying to flush coke out of his system. He longed to touch you just as much as you longed for him. This party is a terrible place to do anything, he knew. With all of his friends and your friends hanging around, he knew a moment alone would be impossible. There’d be awkward questions and nosey stares. But, the urge to feel your body tempted him. Hades must have felt the same whenever Persephone left for spring.
“It'd be a bad idea,” you wrote as if you read his mind. “We should just keep away from each other.”
“You really expect me to stay away from you?”
“No lol I don't”
Starting up his truck, he wondered what you'd be wearing. Nothing too risque or revealing, but still alluring. You needed to do very little to grab attention. He gripped the steering wheel thinking of all the guys who will chase after you. It'd be strange if you didn't interact or flirt back, since you're too popular for your own good. He'd be standing there, helpless and seething in his anger as he watched guy after guy try getting you alone. Kook and Pogue rivalry didn't matter when a beautiful girl was involved. That's what he'd tell his friends when they ragged on him for flirting with you. He'd tell them he likes messing with you, and yeah, that you're hot “for a Pogue”.
“Dude, looking sharp!” Topper greeted him at the club entrance, smiling in his peach colored suit.
“Thanks” he nodded appreciatively, clapping his shoulder.
“You know what would happen if you tried anything with me,” your next message read as he walked inside with his group. “The boys will be there. Please, don't give them an excuse to cause a scene. I want to have a good time, and you boys always spoil it.”
“They start it,” he argued back. “I only talk to you 😏. Not my fault they can't get in your panties like I can.”
“Lol perv.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
“Bro, who got you smiling like that?” Kelce came up beside him right as he locked his phone. A grin on his face, he then asked, “Anybody we know?”
“Nah. Just some tourist chick I met a while back,” he lied. You'd both decided random tourists made a good cover. “Not important.”
“Seems like it if you're blushing,” teased Topper, arm around his shoulders. “I've never seen a girl make Rafe Cameron blush before.”
“Not blushing. Just hot, that's all.”
It was the opposite of hot in the Island country club. The posh elite of the island gathered for another pointless celebration, using an excuse to get drunk and make fools of themselves. Rafe could understand that. He currently carried a gram of cocaine on him to use later. Maybe if he got you alone tonight, he'd share it with you instead of his friends. He nodded at a few people he knew as they made their way to the outside bar, already hearing the DJ start up music as the sun started going down.
“Is she fine?” asked Kelce, ordering a drink next to him.
“Very.”
“Got a pic?”
“Yeah.”
He'd never show you in a million years, but he carried backup models. Rafe then went into a fabricated story of hooking up with a hot blond in her family’s vacation house. It did have a sprinkle of truth in it: you and him recently hooked up in one of his dad’s listings. A nice house on the northwest side, you said it was too hot for the Boneyard, so he took you there. On a bare mattress, he tied you up and used toys he'd brought. Your needy whimpers and struggling formed a lump that he swallowed back down. Rafe never pushed you past your limits, since hurting you unintentionally took you both out of it. Yet, that night neither of you could get enough of each other. If distance and time made anything good, it was the sex.
He told his friends this, earning their approval with laughter and disbelief. It was when Kelce dived into his own story that a flash of orange caught his attention. Out of curiosity, he looked over to the end of the bar to see you. In a dress of light and red orange, you resemble the goddess Persephone herself with the orange flowers tucked into your hair. He hardly noticed how the bodice shaped out your torso and waistline, or the dipping neckline showing a slight cleavage or the bare shoulders he loved leaving hickies on holding up spaghetti straps. He only saw your beauty. His heart missed a beat looking at you; the world stood still, as if it took a moment to admire you with him. Walking down onto the yard with Kie beside you, Rafe wanted more than anything to walk over to you. Had this been what Hades felt upon seeing Persephone?
This feeling only deepened when you chanced a glance his way. With Kie distracted, you gave a covert smile. He gave his usual smug smirk, eyeing you up and down as if to say, “You look good”. You did the same back, smiling bashfully before turning away. He ordered his drink and sipped the smooth liquor.
“...I'm telling you, man, I had that girl screaming my name all night!” Kelce concluded his story with a cocky laugh.
“Crazy,” Rafe said distractedly, trying not to look at you again. Hades was forced to observe his love for afar instead of close up.
“Hey, looks like your girl showed up,” he said, noticing you with Kie. You'd finally gotten your drink, a cranberry vodka of all things. “She’s pretty hot for a Pogue.”
“Yeah.”
“You…You can't for real be into her, right?” The boy said with a scoff. “She's Pogue trash.”
“Nah, you know I just like messing with her. Maybe I’d sleep with her if I was drunk enough,” he shrugged and turned away from you. “No way would I date a Pogue. I have standards.”
“Well, if you don't want her,” he sneered, eyes directed on you, “I wouldn't mind a slice of that pie.”
Rafe's fingers tightened on his glass, and he restrained himself. You wouldn't like Kelce…would you?
“Psh. go for it,” he dismissed. “That pie is hard to get.”
“I think I got a couple hundred reasons she'd go for me,” he winked, sipping from his drink.
“Already tried that, bro.”
If you'd just agreed to a date with him, perhaps this might have started off differently. He’d take you out somewhere nice, get you flowers, and spend the whole night romancing you. A walk on the beach at night, you’d learn about each other without the interference of friends. He’d tell you he loves the way your eyes squint when you laugh or that it’s cute that you put cream and sugar in your cup before the coffee. Rafe might kiss you, if you let him. It would have been a deep, slow one full of love. He wouldn’t have given into those primal urges and taken you like he did. As much as you both enjoyed it.
“Can you believe Sarah’s here with that Pogue?” Topper asked with disgust, glancing over at the group. “Like, is she serious about bringing them here? She knows it’s a bad idea.”
“I told you, man,” Rafe said, “She’s a Pogue now. It’s better to just forget about her.”
“How?”
“Fuck another chick?”
“I…” he saw Topper struggle with the idea.
“Look,” Rafe put his hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes, “I know that’s gonna be a hard thing to do. Sarah had you wrapped around her little finger, made you her bitch and it’s hard to unravel yourself from that, but she’s with John B now. She doesn’t want anything with you. You’re only embarrassing yourself. Here,” he got Topper another drink, “Take this. Get shitfaced and forget about her. There’s plenty of girls at this thing to pick from. You’ll have no trouble finding somebody.”
Topper looked at him for a second. Rafe scanned over his face, knowing when he’s being read. “Come on, drink up, Top,” Rafe urged, hoping to distract him.
“Maybe I should try a go at YN,” he suggested, though Rafe saw the real intention.
“Oh, you're throwing your hat in the ring, Topper?” Kelce chuckled.
“Yeah,” he stared at Rafe, looking at him over his glass. “Why not? She must be special if Rafe is into her, and we all know you’re hard to please.”
“Ah, so it’s like that? You boys want to go take a crack at her, go ahead, but I promise you: you’re going away empty-handed and humiliated.”
Or so he hoped.
“Forty she picks me,” Kelce put down two twenty-dollar bills on the bar top.
“Fifty she picks me,” Topper said, taking out his wallet and putting the bill in front of Rafe. “Maybe tonight’s the night YN gets topped, huh?”
He’d hit him square in the jaw if he could. Rafe knocked back his drink and nodded. “Good luck, bro. I believe in you.”
Topper patted his shoulder, then made his way over to you first. Rafe causally ordered another drink, pretending to not care, though kept looking your way. Your group moved from the bar to one of the high top tables at the edge of the dance floor. Laughing at a story JJ was telling, Topper’s appearance took you by surprise. Rafe watched him purposefully slip in between you and Kie, blocking the brunette from speaking to you, and talk to you in a cool, casual manner. Topper could get a girl. He’s the nicer one. He’s the gentleman who isn’t afraid to admit to his feelings. A girl like you should be with him, but no. You’re his. If you had a brain, you’d reject him.
“Ain’t no way she’s falling for that,” Kelce said, shaking his head. “Pogue girls like directness.”
“YN’s not your average Pogue.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look at her,” he gestured at you. “YN…YN doesn’t act like them. She has goals, aspirations. She isn’t going to be stuck in The Cut like the rest of them. She’s going to, you know, be something someday…you know, if you take a second to really look at her.”
He knew all about your plans: finish college, get your business degree, and start your own business. Boating, you’d told him. You loved going out on the water early in the morning, whether it be on your dad’s small boat or surfing. He never took you for a surfer until he’d seen you out on the waves with JJ, John B and Pope. Rafe saw how at home you were on the water. He watched you ride waves like a bird gliding through the air. He didn’t think he’d see you any happier than in that moment. You wanted to open your own shop, give out lessons on weekends and live out on the beach. As much as he teased you about it, Rafe knew you wouldn’t be satisfied being a rich housewife. No matter how much money you had, you’d likely live in The Cut forever. Rafe wondered if you’d trade that to be with him. Like Persephone, you could spend a portion of time in The Cut, and the other part in Figure Eight with him. He’d let you have both. As long as you came back to him, he didn’t care.
“Um, okay?”
“Just pointing out a fact.”
“Good to know,” Kelce nodded. “Gives me something to open up with before, you know, she opens up,” he nudged Rafe and chuckled.
He wanted to kill him.
“Oh-ho, got rejected, Top?” Kelce said as Topper came back to them, defeated.
“Yeah,” he sighed, draining his drink. He looked at Rafe, “She shot me down before I could even suggest anything. Sarah being there didn’t help my chances either.”
“Told you,” he replied, trying not to grin. If you rejected Topper, you’ll reject Kelce too.
“My turn,” Kelce said, fixing his jacket, “Let me show you how a real player plays.”
Rafe and Topper watched him strut towards you. One look at him, and you instantly said, “No.” This caused both boys to laugh as Kelce turned back around to them.
“Damn, you really showed us how it’s done, huh?” Topper laughed.
“Whatever,” Kelce huffed, “She’s not even that hot. I can get hotter girls that aren’t trashy Pogues. If your sister was the Kook Princess, then YN’s the Pogue Princess.”
“Hmph, right.”
“Well,” Rafe took the money off the bar top, “Thanks, boys. It was fun watching you both suffer the same pain I do every time she shoots me down.”
“Bitch probably got herpes or something,” Kelce huffed. “You know those girls from The Cut…”
Rafe blocked out the rest, pulling out his phone while the other two were distracted. He saw a message from you.
‘Care to explain what your friends were up to?’
‘They wanted to see which one of them could pull you.’
‘A colossal waste of effort and money, if you ask me. How about you come over and show them how it’s done, big guy?’
‘What happened to ignoring each other?’
‘I mean, it WOULD look weird if you didn’t come up to me at least once.’
He gazed up from his phone to you, seeing you go back to easy conversation with Sarah. JJ stopped by the table, playing pretend not knowing them as simply being a server. Always the comedian. He made you laugh so easily. Rafe hated the jealousy that burned in his chest.
‘Rock, Paper, Scissors. I draw scissors on three, and you draw paper,’ he hastily texted back before finishing his second drink. Seeing him smooth back his hair, Topper spoke up first.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I’m going to shoot my shot,” he answered, already walking to you. “Millionth time’s the charm.”
As if your body sensed him before anything else, you looked over to him while mid-laugh. Bright and joyful, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Sarah said Hades abducted Persephone from a meadow of flowers. He’d become so overwhelmed with love for her, he had to have her for himself. He defied Zeus’s command to return the young goddess to her mother, Demeter, goddess of the harvest for her. He tricked her into eating the seeds to bind her because he’d rather trap her than let her go. She fell for him eventually, in some versions.
“Ugh, what is it, Rafe?” You asked at the end of a laugh, smiling at him.
“Are you lost, Rafe?” John B asked from across the circular table, already in defense mode.
“Nah,” he shook his head, “I’m exactly where I want to be.” He turned back to you, coming closer before JJ stepped in between you both.
“What do you want?”
“A dance with the most stunning woman here,” he looked over at you.
“She doesn’t want to dance with you,” he answered, blue eyes staring at him coldly.
“I think the lady can speak for herself, Waiter,” he fixed JJ’s vest and said, “How about you run off and get her another cranberry vodka, hm? Cran-apple. That’s her favorite.”
“Rafe, stop being a creep for like one night,” said Sarah.
“Guys, it’s okay.” You reached JJ, and put your hand on his arm. “JJ, it’s okay.” When JJ backed off, you stepped up to him. A light flowery scent came off you that turned him into a magnet forcing itself to resist you. “What is it, Rafe?”
“You look beautiful, YN,” he said earnestly, forgetting the group watching nearby.
“Thank you. What do you want?”
“Like I said: a dance.”
“Why would I want to dance with you?”
“Well, firstly, I took lessons when I was a kid so I like to think I’m a decent dancer,” he shrugged, “And also because I personally think a woman as gorgeous as you should be on the dance floor, not on the sideline being a little wallflower.”
He saw a hint of a smile come through your mouth’s upturned corner. “I’m sorry, Rafe, but I am politely declining your request for a dance.”
“Not even just one?”
“Nope.”
“One little dance won’t kill anyone,” he reasoned. “If you hate my dancing, you’re free to abandon me on the floor.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Yeah, you do,” he smiled, hands in his pockets.
“She said ‘no’, Rafe,” said Kie with disgust in her voice. “Haven’t you heard ‘no means no’?”
“Rock, Paper, Scissors,” he told you, ignoring her. “You win, I ignore you for the night. I win, you dance with me.”
“Ignore me forever,” you upped the bet.
“Ooof,” he huffed, “No chance, gorgeous. You’d end up killing me, and I don’t think you want my death on your conscience.”
“I’d learn to cope with it. You know, with therapy and booze.”
He laughed softly, “How about it, YN?” He put out his hand in a fist, “Best two out of three.”
“Two out of three.”
“You’re not seriously entertaining this guy, are you?” JJ asked, incredulously.
“Shoot on three,” you declared.
“Deal.”
You counted to three, and you stuck out rock and he stuck out rock. You counted to three a second time, and you shot out paper and he put down scissors. Your friends groaned at the brief loss, and Rafe’s body bubbled with anticipation of the third draw. You put down rock, and he put down paper.
“Paper beats rock,” he smiled triumphantly over your huffy pout. “Come on, beautiful. They’re playing a slow one too.”
You gave your friends a cringing face before turning away from them. On the dance floor, people started pairing up as a slow pop song came on. Rafe could not place the song, but clearly you did since you instantly started singing under your breath. It was another habit he loved.
“I love hearing you sing, you know that,” he said, one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. He led you into a slow waltz, mostly shifting from side to side to avoid stepping on each other’s feet.
“Then you’re tone deaf because my singing is terrible,” you replied, trying not to smile though he could still see it.
“It’s not that bad,” he insisted. “Then again, I probably only like it because it’s you.”
You hesitated, “Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why?”
“Because…” you looked away from him, and he saw a hint of sadness in your eyes, “We both know why you actually say it.”
“YN,” he cupped your cheek and the softness of your skin nearly made him melt, “Did you ever have a Greek myth phase growing up?”
The question caught you off guard, “Huh?”
“Sarah had one and she was so fucking annoying about it,” he began. “She liked going around comparing people to Greek gods all the time like it was some personality test.”
“Um, cool? I never did that, but I did have my Greek phase.”
“Well, she liked telling me that I reminded her of Hades.”
“Hades? Really?” You said, brow furrowed.
“Oh, you don’t agree with that comparison?”
“No. You’re more of a Dionysus than a Hades.”
“Why? Because I drink all the time?”
“That and you party and have sex all the time too,” you said. “He was also the god of madness and wild frenzies.”
You both let that hang in the air. Rafe forgot the few times you’d seen him lose control. He always felt embarrassed right after it passed, but you never made him feel ashamed or invalidated them. You listened. Your compassionate heart soothed the demons living in his head.
“But, okay, so Hades,” you said, urging him to continue.
“Yeah, she liked to say that because-I don’t know-it was an easy choice and she was a dumb kid, whatever” he guessed. “I used to be bummed out because, like, who wants to be associated with the bad guy, right? But, Hades wasn’t really a bad guy. He was just doing his job as king, and that sometimes came with making hard decisions. He had to know what punishment fit what crime, and which parts of the underworld people went to. Zeus was king of the gods and the living, but Hades was king of the underworld. He was like, on the same level as Zeus since he was just as important-”
“-Well, look at you,” you smiled in surprise, “Rafe Cameron is actually a well read guy.”
“I got curious about it, I guess. Anyways, Zeus has Hera, right? His wife who he was always cheating on, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hades had Persephone,” he let his voice drop a bit lower, cupping your chin gently. “Goddess of spring, who he fell madly in love with. Their story is that she was in a meadow picking flowers one day-”
“-When he kidnapped her-” you interrupted pointedly.
“-When he swept her away to the underworld to make her his wife,” Rafe corrected. “Her mom eventually gets wind of this and tells Zeus to tell Hades to give her daughter back. Zeus is like ‘woah, this woman’s not producing the harvest so people on earth are dying! I should probably make Hades give her daughter back’. He sends Hermes to give the message, and Hades is like ‘that’s cool. You want her back? No problem’, right? Well, I don’t know about you, but when I want to keep something,” he puts both his arms around your waist now, bringing you closer, “I do what I can to keep it.”
“Rafe, people are-”
“-There’s a part of the story where people believed eating anything in the underworld bound you to it,” he continued, unable to look away from you, “So, Hades tricked Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds. Each seed represented a month that she’d have to spend in the underworld. That meant for six months out of the year, she could go home, and the other half, she’d be with him.”
“Are you trying to compare us to Hades and Persephone, Rafe?”
“Do you agree with it?”
“Not really,” you scrunch your face and shake your head. “Hades is cool and everything, but it’s such an obvious and easy analogy.”
“Alright then, smarty-pants, if you had to pick a pair, who would you pick?”
“Dionysus and his wife, Ariadne.”
“Who?”
You giggled, “She was a Cretian princess who helped Theseus kill the Minotaur, and she ran away with him after on his ship. There’s like a whole bunch of different versions of her myth because Greeks told these stories orally, not on paper. But, yeah, there’s the version that Dionysus found her sleeping after Theseus abandons her on an island,” you gazed over his face, a softness coming over your eyes, “And he fell in love with her. When she woke up, he declared her as his wife.”
“Eh, Hades and Persephone are better, so we’re sticking with that,” he waved this off.
The slow song soon ended, and a more upbeat one started playing. He expected you to pull away, pretend to be fed up with him, and walk away. However, you both stayed glued together still slow dancing.
“Still boring.”
“I have your nudes, young lady, so you better agree with me,” he warned.
“Hm, do you think Hades had her nudes and waved them over her head whenever they disagreed?” you bantered back.
“No, but I bet he might have.”
“From what I remember, Her Highness was a lot meaner than her husband, so maybe it was his nudes that were getting waved around.” You then gave a mock gasp, “Is that why I never get dick pics from you?”
“Why send pictures when you can see the real thing whenever you want?” he questioned, desperate to kiss you. He took in the shape and fullness of your lips, spotting the natural shade of lipstick you’d chosen. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Rafe,” you warned him softly, turning your face and feigning disgust, “They’re still watching us.”
“So? What do they think I’m going to do to you?”
“What you did to me on the golf course.”
He hesitated, unable to find a retort. “Did you…”
“Yes,” you assured him. “I definitely did. But, my friends…like, they wouldn’t get it. To them, you’re the Kook Prince whose a total psycho asshole.”
“Ouch,” he said, pretending to be wounded.
“Oh, it’s not like you haven’t given them reasons to not think that,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re the bad guy. I’m not supposed to like the bad guy. I’m supposed to like guys like JJ who are nice and funny and-”
“-But you don’t want that,” he said confidently.
“JJ is sweet and everything, but I don’t see him that way. He’s like a little brother to me,” you admitted. His heart leapt at this news. “My friends wouldn’t understand. I…” your fingers gripped his shoulder and you looked away in shame. “They’re the only friends I have. I don’t want to lose them because they found out about us.”
“You could tell them that I blackmailed you into sleeping with me,” he said, “Since that is why this even started. It just happened to be that we both…you know…make a good match…in bed, I mean,” he added the last words quickly. “I’ll continue being the asshole they hate, and you’ll be absolved of any guilt.” He noticed his own gang still near the corner of the dance floor, occasionally glancing over at you two. His eyes met Topper’s, and he realized he’d been caught. “My friends wouldn’t get it either,” he said, turning back to you.
“So, we should stop dancing then.”
“Yeah.”
He kept holding you, dancing in one spot side to side. “Then let me go,” you said.
“You let go first.”
Neither of you did. Rafe kept looking into your eyes, admiring the color and shape of them like always. “You can let go at any time, YN,” he said with a small grin, “They expect you to whenever I get close to you like this.”
You took shallow breaths, looking down at his lips for a moment. “One more dance wouldn’t hurt,” you suggested. “I am enjoying myself with you, Mr. Cameron. I don’t want it to end so soon.”
“Then I’m glad, Ms. YLN,” he grinned, happiness blooming in his chest. “Now, what is this whole thing about Dionysus and his wife?”
You spent the next few songs talking about different myths. Rafe could listen to you go on for hours about anything. The sound of your voice calmed the anger constantly settled under the surface. He held you close, hands on your lower back, and wished he’d give in and kiss you. The watchful eyes of both friend groups started irking him the longer you two danced. The idea of going ahead and doing it came to him when you laughed at a joke of his. He shouldn’t feel ashamed to love you, Pogue or not. He didn’t, but if that were true, why did he hide it? He downplayed his interest in you as lust; he never made it known that he wanted more from you. To do that would raise eyebrows and disapproval. Rafe needed public approval if he wanted to get anywhere in life. Kooks with good connections might look down on him for dating a Pogue from The Cut. It’d make it harder to convince them that he’s good to do business with. Being a Cameron only did a fraction of the job. Rafe had goals he wished to achieve, and if people started looking down on him, it’d make things harder. As ridiculous as that sounded, he knew it was true.
But, how can he stop his heart from leaping whenever he sees you? How can he dim the world’s vibrant colors when you are around? If he could not have you, where would he turn when his temper took a hold of him? Rafe brushed his thumb across your jawline, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your beauty was only one aspect he adored. Hades and Dionysus admired their wives’ beauty, but did they like anything else?
“Rafe,” your soft, sweet voice cut through his sentimental thoughts, “What’re you doing?”
“Just want to get a good look at you,” he excused, letting you go.
You smiled, and he died inside. “You’re not too bad looking either, you know,” you said, doing the same to him for a moment. “You have that bad boy who gets away with stuff because he’s hot vibe.”
"Bad boy, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean, you got this cocky attitude that you tote around everywhere. You ride a motorcycle that you bought with money that wasn’t really yours. You deal and do drugs. You pick fights with people just for an excuse to punch someone,” you listed as you straightened his bowtie. “You aren’t afraid to speak up or confront people who piss you off. You’re the snobby rich bad boy and it’s lowkey hot,” you laughed.
“If we’re playing this game, then you’re the neighborhood sweetheart that girls want to be friends with and guys want to fuck,” he said, fingers trailing the lower part of your spine. “You have wholesome hobbies like baking or gardening. You like pop music, pastel colors and cute things. You want to help people, and taking care of them is second nature to you.”
“Ah, so you do notice more than how I look when I’m under you,” you pointed out with flirty eyes.
God, how did this look to your friends? You’d both danced through four songs now, not unsticking for a single second. He should let you go after this song. He glanced at the bar and didn’t see the guys anymore. They’d moved somewhere inside, most likely, still drinking and talking. He could always tell them he just hooked up with you, finally getting what he wanted out of you. It did not have to be romantic. From your reaction to the necklace, you didn’t feel the same as him. You might like him, and enjoy your time together, but real love? He doubted it.
Is that what he was feeling?
“I’ve always noticed you,” he said, pushing a hair behind your ear. “You just never took notice of me until I had you pinned to a tree near the golf course.”
“Because I never took you seriously.”
“You still don’t.”
The hurt stayed in his voice even when he tried pushing it out. You caught it right away, and the playfulness died out. This made him finally break from you, anxiously pushing hair from his face. He caught a glimpse of the necklace you wore tonight. The pink rose charm clashed with your orange and red dress, but you’d worn it anyway. This still meant nothing. You probably had nothing nice to wear with the dress, so you’d kept it on.
“Rafe,” you reached out and he stepped away.
“I should go,” he responded. “We’ve danced enough. People are gonna start talking.”
“Rafe, don’t go.”
“See you later. I’ll…Yeah…”
He walked away before you touched him again. If those pretty hands landed on him, he’d fold and he can’t fold. Real men didn’t fold to women like this. Men were in control in relationships. They handled business. That’s what Rafe always did. He took care of business; he made things move and shake. He isn’t supposed to let a Pogue take over him like this. He shouldn’t like you at all, by Kook standards.
“Hey Rafe,” a slender blond came up to him as he went up the steps inside. He only vaguely remembered her. A party? The club? It didn’t matter. “Some of us are going to Caleb’s place after. Do you want to come? You always bring the best favors.” He caught the flirty glint in her eyes.
“Nah, not tonight.”
Not when he had you in his head. He passed her and her friends, and went back inside. The gram in his pocket suddenly weighed a ton, pressed to his thigh and made itself known. Rafe ignored Topper as he walked towards the bathroom. He couldn’t believe he let you ruin him this way. You, with your sweet eyes and pretty lips. You, who broke down every wall he had just by existing at his side. You brought out a side of him that he kept buried deep in his chest. Real men didn’t spiral like this. They kept their shit together. His dad always told him this. He’d tell him to ‘man up’ if he saw Rafe right now.
Walking into the nearest stall, Rafe rifled around in his pocket for the baggie of white powder he’d carried. He dumped a small amount on the toilet tank, held down a nostril and quickly snorted the line with a rolled up bill. The drug burned the nasal passage, being bitter going down, causing him to rub his nose. He’d hoped to take some with you, but he supposed not. He’d snort the entire bag if it meant he forgot you for a while. He’d do anything to kill the heartbreak that came with every memory of that necklace. He’d let the burn pass before doing a second line. That was when his phone went off in his pocket.
‘Everything good, bro?’ Topper texted him.
‘All good.’
Topper won’t believe him, but won’t say anything either. Rafe often said Topper was soft and a pussy, but he was the nicest and most understanding of his friends. He sometimes wondered who was the oldest: him or Topper? His phone went off again as he leaned against the wall.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He didn’t answer you. Rafe sat on the toilet, letting the drug slowly seep into his bloodstream and give him the high speed, euphoric feeling that only your body gave him. Lord, your body. Your beautiful, soft body that made men everywhere stop and stare. Going through his phone, he found the collection of Twitter and OnlyFans screenshots he’d taken of you. In some you’re wearing lingerie or a bit of clothing, but other times you showed off everything. Rafe had a hard time believing he’d gotten to be inside you. He got to feel your tight walls clench whenever he did something you liked. He’d hear your pathetic whines each time he teased or spanked you. He stopped at one photo of your ass, bare with the words ‘insert here’ on your cheeks. Rafe loved spanking you. He loved the sounds you made and how the doughy curves rippled against his hand. He’d occasionally bend you over to land a few slaps to your tight, wet pussy right after. This always got the best results. You’d squirm and tell him to stop, but he’d keep going until your thighs shook.
“I’m on the patio farthest from the club,” you texted him again, adding a photo of the dimly lit covered patio at the end of a dock.
He knew the place well. It’d be secluded and dark. The perfect place to take advantage of that lovely body and those tight holes. Cocaine fueling him, he put his phone away and left the bathroom, starting for the patio area. He already saw himself lifting up that dress and shoving himself inside you, willing or not. If you won’t take his heart, you’ll take his dick instead. It’s not as if you’d say ‘no’ to it. It’s all you wanted from him, so who was he to keep it from you?
The cold night air blew past him as he made his way to the dock area. People usually hung out there during the day, enjoying the marina of boats passing by them. Rafe brought a girl or two there in his time. A good hook up spot, nobody liked the cold ocean air or being in near darkness so late at night. His blood pumped down to his cock once he caught sight of your silhouette against the railing lights. You were his. You’d always be his. As long as he had those videos and photos, he owned you. You had no choice but to let him have you.
“Rafe,” you turned to him when you heard his footsteps, “Listen, I’m sorry if I-”
“-Shut the fuck up,” he grunted, pinning you to a column.
Your lips crashed together in a bruising kiss. The yearning mixed with the coke, making him harder faster. Your hands touched on his shoulders for support, both holding onto him and trying to push him away. Judging by how you barely put in any effort, he knew you wanted this. If you really didn’t, you’d knee him in the groin right now. Grabbing your arms, he threw you onto a nearby couch and immediately mounted you. His lips attacked the base of your throat, sucking and biting the tender flesh. Your soft whimpers of pain stiffened his erection, the tip starting to push on his zipper uncomfortably. He’d hurt you tonight. He’d hurt you in the way you hurt him. Haphazardly grinding into your sex, Rafe cupped your breasts through your dress and bra. He kissed further down to them, about to hook his fingers on the neckline before you stopped him.
“Cherry, cherry,” you huffed quickly, hands on his. He forced himself to stop and look at you, “Don’t rip it. It’s the nicest thing I own,” you said breathlessly, “Please.”
“Fine.”
He settled for lifting the skirt to your waist and grabbing your ass. Rafe groaned into your cleavage when the two cheeks filled his hands. Your underwear, cotton and likely some pretty pastel color, became a thin barrier between him and your skin. You whined in his ear when he rolled them around, spreading and pushing your panties in between them. He kissed across both tits, giving more love bites. He didn’t care if people could see them or not after this. He’d know they were there, and you’d remember that you’re his. Love him. Don’t love him. You’re his property. He’s the man and you’re his bitch. You pulled down the top half of your dress, revealing your cotton bra and he instantly started kissing your nipples through them. Your arousal and the night air hardened them, leaving small goosebumps on the smooth mounds.
“Rafe,” you moaned in his ear, hips moving up into him to feel his bulge, “Oh god, Rafe.”
“I said ‘shut the fuck up’,” he said, a bit more harshly the normal. “You speak when I tell you to,” he broke away just to smack your cheek. “Got it, bitch?” He backhanded your other cheek, “Got it?”
“I got it,” you whimpered.
He lifted your legs to his waist, and tugged your panties to the side. He caught a hint of wetness already slickening the lips and your hard clit. Your back arched when the tip of his middle finger grazed over it. Slut. You got wet so easily. You never refused or truly fought back when he started in on you. You’d spread your legs and take him because that’s all you wanted. You didn’t want anything serious because of your stupid, pathetic friends. Who cares if they don’t want you after? You had him. You only needed him at the end of the day. He could give you things nobody else can. He does things to you that they can’t. Why would you not want him? Why couldn’t you just love him how he loves you? He gave your pussy a few hard slaps, smiling when you twitched at the stinging smacks. They came sharp and direct, your wetness leaving spots on his fingers. He wished he could see it properly. The small fluorescent lights on top of the railings left very little visibility. Still, that didn't stop him from getting to taste you. Groaning, he buried his face in your swelling cunt. His tongue quickly lashed at your clit until you squirmed around under him.
“Stay still,” he ordered, spanking your pussy hard.
Pulling each side, Rafe focused directly on your entrance now. It fluttered around the tip of his tongue, trying to pull him in for more. He denied you this and licked a long stripe up to your clit again. The sweetness with its hint of a tang became the only thing he craved. He sucked the remnants that dripped from you, groaning at your taste and warmth. How could you not want him when he does this for you? He loved doing this for you. Your faint whimpers and lustful moans were music to him, causing him to go further just to hear more. He moaned when your essence filled his mouth, obscenely sucking up whatever he could while feeling your trembling thighs. When he finally pulled away, it was with restraint. He started hurriedly undoing his belt and fly.
“Rafe!”
He spat on your soaked pussy, and instantly went inside. A hand keeping you pinned by your neck, he didn’t bother measuring his control. Feral grunting and miserable whining broke through the silent night. Your pussy accepted him without a fuss, clamping and wetting his length in every stroke. Pleasure pulsed through him like a drug, especially with your juices shining his lips and chin still. It took over completely, and he focused on nothing but feeling you shudder around him. He stared down at you underneath him, the back of the couch keeping you in half shadows. Beautiful. Even with tears starting to glaze your eyes, lips parted in mixes of moans and cries, he found you beautiful.
“What’s the matter, YN?” he grunted, shoving into your cunt hard when you started clutching at his hand. “Can’t breathe?”
You shook your head, and he loosened his grip. Last thing he wanted was to truly hurt you. No matter how much you hurt him. The sanity in him spoke as he buried himself in you again. How could you love him when he’s forcing you to be with him like this? Surely, Persephone didn't appreciate being trapped in the underworld. Though, she eventually fell for her captor. You'd love him soon, right? You had to. You were connected to each other, even if you didn't know it yet. Every time he saw you, every time he touched you, he became more convinced you're fated to be. He never felt this for anyone else; it felt amazing. When he held you, he didn't feel like a monster. He was human.
He nearly came to your gasping breaths. Rafe imagined the slight pain he must be giving you, and moaned into your neck. He’ll admit he liked hurting you. He liked having that power over you; he got off just knowing he brought you both pain and pleasure. Not too much, but enough that you both found enjoyment in it.
“No, no,” he croaked, feeling your body tremble. “You’re not cumming before me,” he stopped choking you and reached for your hair, not caring if he ruined the delicately placed flowers. “This is for me, not you. You want to be a bitch and not want me, then you’re not getting anything.”
“Rafe…”
“Did I say you could talk?”
“No.”
“Then shut up,” he gave a few hard thrusts, “I’m not saying it again.”
The moment he felt you starting to hit the edge, he withdrew. As much as it pained him to do it, he would not let you be satisfied so easily. When you came down, he went right back inside. Several long strokes had his cock dragging against your walls. That familiar tightness that built in him started flourishing as he grew closer to climax. He lost control of himself, keeping you down against the creaking wicker wood couch and pumping your pussy. His beautiful Persephone. His goddess of spring and flowers. The lovely maiden whom he ruined with his cock and mouth was powerless to stop him from finishing inside her. Every pulse sprayed more white strings, his moans muffled by the cushion underneath you in each push. As his cock kept twitching, he felt your fingers scratching the back of his jacket.
“On top,” he panted, instantly maneuvering to get you in his lap. “Go,” he smacked your ass when you did not immediately start bouncing, “I’m not helping you. You’re working that out yourself tonight.”
He pushed your dress forward to see you in his lap. Hands on his knees, you started riding him. Full cheeks slamming onto him, Rafe took hold and spread them. Your tightest hole looked good tonight. Particularly good. Bending forward, you let him see more of you as you moaned in the air. He’d pulled out his phone just to shine a light on you. His cock glistening with your combined fluids, the whole thing disappeared in your pussy every time you met. Rafe gave one cheek a hard smack, no longer caring if someone heard you both. Let them find you this way, moaning and riding him like this. Then they’d all know you’re his. He started getting hard again when you let out fake sobs, though still rode him at the same speed. Your hole squeezed his sensitive shaft and head, the entrance jacking off his tip in shallow moves. It sent small bouts of pain that tingled inside him, though he didn't make you stop. When you stopped, taking a short break from your ride, he spanked both cheeks.
“Don’t you want to cum?” he asked, grabbing one of them for a small shake. “I thought you wanted to cum.”
“Please, Rafe. Stop. I-I won’t sa-say anything!”
“Is it because you want me in here instead?” He spread leftover cum to your tight ass hole, pushing his thumb there and earning a low whine.
“No!”
“I think you do,” he teased, pumping his thumb in and out. “Fuck, it just sucks me in every time I fill it.”
“Rafe, please! Don’t put it there, it'll hurt!”
“So?” He removed his thumb and stuck his index finger, groaning watching your hole stretch around the single digit. Your sex squeezed him when he did this, and you shifted around. “It’s supposed to feel good for me, not you.”
“Rafe, not there. Not there.”
He knew better than to do anything like that somewhere uncomfortable for you. He'd never go in raw like that, preferring to prepare you properly for it.
“I guess,” he sighed disappointedly, “Your pussy is going to have to do it for now. Keep going, and try to actually cum. I don’t have all night to…to wait on you.”
But you knew he would. He felt himself growing harder as you started working him again, still fake crying. When you started quaking, Rafe put down the phone to hold your hips. He gave support and subtly pushed up to that g-spot driving you crazy. His favorite moment finally came when your moans became restrained whines through gritted teeth and your grip on his knees tightened. He watched you shake as your orgasm hit you. Unable to control himself, he pulled you back to his chest, hand over your mouth, and began pushing into you fully. The heat coming down over his cock made him moan in your ear.
“Fucking finally,” he gruffed as you came down from your high, trembling in his arms. “Took you long enough.”
He started cleaning up as best he could before pulling his pants back up. You fixed yourself up, a small smile on your face now that it was over. He held up a light as you redid the baby flowers in your hair, and fixed your lipstick. You looked prettiest when he was finished with you. He knew you couldn't go back looking disheveled, though imagining it didn't hurt.
“How was it?” he asked, softly pecking your lips when you finished.
“Unexpected,” you answered, “But so good. I love it when you’re mean to me.”
“I know,” he replied. He took a moment to kiss you deeply, his love for you blossoming once again. “That's why I do it.”
You stayed on the couch for a while, kissing in your embrace. The inevitable question came up halfway through.
“Why did you leave?”
Rafe placed several small kisses to your lips. He didn’t say anything. The drugs and the bliss started wearing off, and the real him came back. He only looked down at you.
“Rafe?”
Had Hades hesitated when Persephone confronted him? Did Dionysus show reluctance when he came upon Ariadne? Rafe kissed you again, enjoying the weight of you on top of him on the couch.
“Got tired of dancing,” he said, rubbing his nose briefly, not looking at you.
You studied him in the lowlights of the small space. He hated it when you did this. He felt as if you read his soul like a book. Only you, his father and Topper seemed to have this ability.
“You know,” you said carefully, “I really love my necklace.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I really like wearing it even if it doesn’t match my outfit.”
“Alright.”
“It makes me feel closer to you,” you shuffled further up to him, hand on his chest and face inches from his. “It reminds me of you whenever I touch it or look at it in mirrors.”
“It’s supposed to.”
“It makes me happy to wear it, whether you’re around or not.”
He stared down at you on his chest. Rafe didn’t know what to think of your words. Yes, he heard the meaning behind them, but did you mean them?
He really hoped you did.
“We should get going,” he said, delicately moving to signal this. “People are gonna ask where we went.”
You slid off him and back onto the couch. You kept your eyes on him still, and he avoided your gaze. At least you really did like your necklace. He hoped you might when he'd bought it. You said you thought of him wearing it.
“My friends aren't dumb,” you said, “They're going to know we at least hooked up.”
So would his. They'll expect a wild story of outdoor sex and how he made you scream in pleasure. No.
“You can tell them I was nothing but a gentleman,” he finally replied. “I mean, there's nothing to prove otherwise and…”
‘Who the fuck are they to say anything?”
“Sarah’s dating John B,” he pointed out, helping you up off the couch. “Nobody cares about them.”
“It's different. Sarah's not…She's not you.”
“She was a Kook once. They couldn't have been okay with it at first.”
You looked up at him. Those lovely eyes stared right through him. You seemed to come to a conclusion right there.
“Can I get a night to think about it?” you asked him with a small wince.
He knew how you felt. It'd change so many things.
“Sure. Take as long as you need,” he said, bringing you to his chest. “Then can I have one more kiss before we go back?”
You answered by kissing him first. This kiss differed from the ones before it. He sensed a deeper meaning in every smack of the lips. The two of you came together like flowers on vines. Your back arched at his hands on your spine, and he leaned in for more. He didn’t want to let go of you right away. Why should he?
You're his Persephone.
****
A/N: geeze, I wonder how long these two can stop being so obvious and just let people know??? hope you guys liked this one! thanks for reading!
a/n: as the title tells reader is jj’s sister and he is just mean all the time so beware.
readers masterlist.
you’re weird.
but not in a quirky, funny way.
you’re just..
too anxious, too rough around the edges, too jumpy. Maybe that’s it, or maybe you’re just not what’s considered normal.
Like that person that always smells like drugs or alcohol, whose eyes dart around like there’s a gun being held to their head. And maybe there is, they just can’t see it.
Weird in a ‘my brother doesn’t want to hang out with me because we’re not close’ even though you’ve done everything you could to be close way.
Weird in a ‘Thee Rafe Cameron came up to you and you froze for a whole minute waiting for him to leave laughing with his friends because you thought he’d never talk to someone like you’.
Summary: Where your drug, alcohol, and sex fuelled relationship has turned you into a cold and detached person. Both running from things in your lives, you and Rafe Cameron lose yourselves each night in each other and any substances you can get your hands on.
(not my gif, if it’s yours let me know so I can credit)
requested: no
warnings: drug use & dependency, sexual content, swearing, drunk driving, toxic/violent relationship, ANGST ANGST ANGST (I'm sorry if I missed anything)
word count: 3.4k (issa long one oops)
(A/N): omg hi, it’s finally done. This is the first piece of writing I'm posting on here so I’m extremely rusty so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Also, I am in no way trying to romanticize toxic or abusive relationships!! If you are experiencing something like this or have in the past, it is not love and you all deserve the world♡. Also thank you to @adoreyoudrews for just being supportive since the beginning and throughout this whole process (ilysm). Enjoy!!
He could be crazy, but some would argue that you were crazier. You’ve always been an impulsive person — but you both brought out the worst in eachother. You used to spend your days with the pogues who you called your best friends, but as you grew closer to Rafe he slowly put the idea in your head that you were better off without them. You would do anything Rafe asked you to, which might scare you to death. But your drug and alcohol-fueled relationship didn’t leave room for you to feel scared.
You squeezed your way through the crowd of intoxicated teens that were currently surrounding a game of beer pong in the kitchen of Kelce’s house. As you brushed past some of the familiar faces you would whisper, “Rafe is in the pool house, come if you have cash.”
You and Rafe became a team over the course of your relationship. The king and queen of the kooks. It was summer, and you had been doing what you wanted, whenever you wanted with your boyfriend. Days usually consisted of hanging out at the country club, golfing, or boating but they always ended with you and Rafe getting high or drunk together. The only time you ever felt bad was when you stopped the cycle, so eventually you just decided you wouldn’t stop. You were constantly around him, which your old friends would call “unhealthy” — which is exactly why they’re now old friends. All you needed was Rafe.
Once you spread the word to enough people about Rafe’s new supply of the “finest coke in the obx”, you made your way back to the pool house excited to try it yourself. As you were exiting the house, you passed a few acquaintances who would greet you with a smile and offer you a shot, which you happily accepted. The day someone sees (Y/N) (Y/L/N) refuse a drink will be the same day hell freezes over.
Opening the French doors of the pool house, you see a small group surrounding your boyfriend. Laughter and twenty dollar bills were being exchanged. You stood there for a minute to admire him. Cracking jokes and telling stories with these people before they would take a bump or in between them. When he wanted to be, he could be the most charismatic and magnetic person in the room, but it often flipped like a switch. The way that he could captivate an entire room of people whenever he wanted with seemingly no effort always left you astonished.
Sure, you guys fought like you hated each other sometimes but when you loved each other... holy shit you loved each other. And there was no inbetween with you and Rafe — your relationship was either scalding hot or freezing cold, it was never lukewarm.
You strut towards Rafe with a devilish smirk. You eagerly pushed past every person standing between you and your boyfriend. He makes eye contact with you and his face lights up immediately. This is the atmosphere both of you have been happiest in lately. You were both running from things in your home lives that each of you knew better than to bring up to one another. As long as you and Rafe were running in the same direction, you didn’t care how tiring it would often feel.
He eyes you up and down as you approach him. You’ve discarded your shirt since the last time you saw him that night, your black bikini still damp from the pool.
“Get over here, baby” he mutters, firmly grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto his lap. The surrounding conversations continue as you make yourself comfortable on top of Rafe. He leans around you, gathering the white powdery substance into neat lines while you roll up a loose twenty dollar bill. When it comes to this, it’s like a ritual. The two of you move like it’s a dance you’ve rehearsed every night for the last few months — you leaning over, him holding your hair back, your nose brushing up against the cold surface of the table as the drugs enter your system. You lean back into your boyfriend as the euphoric sensation takes over. He eagerly begins to lean forward, to finish off the lines you left behind.
“No,” you mutter, grabbing a hold of his bicep to pull him back. He looks at you with furrowed brows, confusion written all over his face.
“What the fuck do you mean, no?” he spits. As mentioned, Rafe could flip like a switch at any moment. The bruises that would often litter your frail figure could attest to that, but you forgave him every time.
“I mean…” you trail off as you twist your body so your back lays flat on his lap. His demeanor calms immediately, as he catches on to what you’re asking him. He gathers the coke and lays it between your cleavage. As the drugs disappear from your chest, he kisses the surrounding area. If you were sober, you would maybe feel slightly embarrassed as the two of you had gathered somewhat of an audience. But sober you were far from. In this moment there wasn’t a trace of the guilt, anger, and sadness that would often plague your sober thoughts. You’ve convinced yourself it’s easier this way; and you really believed that you loved this boy.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
Rafe was recklessly driving back towards his house with you in the passenger seat, head out the window and giggling uncontrollably.
“Get back in here.” he slurred, pawing at your skirt to try and get you to sit still in your seat.
You began to laugh even harder at his attempt to reel you in. Your whole upper body was leaning into the cool summer breeze passing you by.
“I’m not fucking kidding.” Rafe said firmly, losing his patience. Your laughter softened as you sighed, “Fine.”
Sitting in your seat you began to get bored after only a minute. Over the past few months you have grown to need constant excitement in your life. Things always needed to be fast paced and you craved the adrenaline that accompanied your reckless behaviour while under the influence.
You stared at Rafe for a moment. His eyes were hazy; hand switching back and forth from your thigh to a bottle of beer he’d been drinking as he sloppily navigated the streets approaching tannyhill. Your own eyes widened with the idea that suddenly came over you. Lifting Rafe’s hand that was resting on your thigh, you raise it to your mouth.
He glances over to you, a smirk spreading across his face. His index finger finds its way into your mouth and you begin to gently suck. His eyes are hungry as they flash between you and the road in front of him.
“You’re so hot, (Y/N).” he practically moans, a bulge appearing in his shorts. Roughly, he grabs hold of the back of your neck and pushes you down towards his crotch. Leaning over the centre console, you take him into your mouth.
If the drugs weren’t fueling your relationship — it was the sex. Taking place anywhere and everywhere — his father's boat, the office, the beach, or simply in between his french-imported sheets. It was while he was inside you that he unleashed much of his aggression and rage, especially if you had just been fighting. It might bother you, if it didn’t feel so damn good. You didn’t mind that he could be rough, violent, or cold towards you. You were all of those things too.
Between the drug haze, intoxication, and the feeling of your mouth around him his driving was becoming more and more reckless as he pulled into the long and swerving driveway of his house. He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the feeling of pure bliss. As his eyes were shut, the car began to swerve. You jolted forward as you came to an abrupt stop.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Rafe muttered in a panicked tone, zipping up his shorts and roughly shoving you off of him as he exited the car. He had collided with the marble statue that resided at the edge of the Cameron’s driveway. Wiping the edge of your mouth, you exit from the passenger door to assess the damage.
You couldn’t help the laughter from escaping your lips as you looked upon the statue that was broken into pieces before you. Rafe was anxiously pacing, shaky hands running through his hair.
“What the fuck is funny, (Y/N)? My dad is gonna lose his shit!” he spat at you, still not able to keep your laughter under control. You couldn’t help it, you always found that statue of a naked man hideous and borderline creepy. Through the laughter you uttered, “Holy shit, it’s dick broke off.”
Rafe was getting angrier with you by the second. You picked up the cracked and detached marble phallus and started making obscene gestures with it, which Rafe didn’t happen to find as entertaining as you did. “What? Are you jealous, baby? I’ll save some for you don’t wor—” before you could finish your sentence, Rafe’s hand swung to knock the piece of marble from your grasp as he grabbed a hold of your jaw to keep you from talking. “Shut the fuck up.” he angrily slurred.
You pushed him back with all of the force you could muster. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” you spat. He took a few steps back due to the abrupt force of your shove. As much as he could push you around, you rarely sat there and took his shit without fighting back although you were no match to his 6’2 frame.
“You know what…” he trailed off. Rafe was looking between you and the shattered pieces of the statue that Rose had treasured. “Go the fuck home.”
His statement, the way he was looking at you with utter disgust, and the throbbing pain from where his hand had been gripping your jaw was enough to cause tears to form in your eyes. “What do you mean, go home?” you asked softly. Rafe had strayed from the usual pattern of events that would take place. Usually, you would have it out and scream at each other like maniacs for a good amount of time, before you each would break down and lose the argument somewhere between the sheets. Home was the last place you wanted to be right now. The place that should be associated with warmth and love could not be said about your large blue house with the wrap-around porch. Your mother and father hated one another — their least favourite characteristics about each other were reflected in you, their daughter. Most of the time they couldn’t manage to look you in the eyes, much less hold a conversation.
“I mean, I don’t want you here,” he explained to you in a condescending tone, as if you were an unknowing child.
All of a sudden, the anger you had just felt towards him was replaced with absolute desperation. Desperate to stay, for him to forgive you, for him to hold you even if it hurt. You’re not even sure what you’d be asking for forgiveness for — but you’d do it without hesitation.
Your shaky hands find his chest and you snake your arms around his waist. He stands frigid and cold, unresponsive to your touch.
“Please, I’m sorry baby.” you mutter into his shirt. “Let’s just go inside…” you trail off as you use the tip of your finger to trace shapes on his back, a weakness of his. You begin to feel him slightly relax into your touch.
Trying to diffuse the situation you add, “We can make something up about the statue. I know how Ward can be sometimes...”
He tensed up again. You knew better than to bring up his dad, especially in the state he was in right now. You were already blaming yourself for whatever would come next, before it even happened.
Rafe ferociously pushed you off of him sending you into the ground, knees scraping against the pavement. “You think you know everything.” he spat, “You don’t know shit, (Y/N).”
Rafe walks away and you sit there for a moment. All that can be heard is the pounding of your heart and the crickets chirping. You begin to think from this angle, you and the shattered statue didn’t really look much different.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
Walking the streets of figure eight, you begin to feel the effects of the stimulants wearing off. The distractions you so desperately seek are beginning to crumble around you — leaving you completely and utterly alone with just your thoughts, bloody knees, and shaky hands.
These streets were painfully familiar. Under the amber glow of the street lamps, memories uncontrollably flooded your mind. You were seeing it like a movie scene — from the days that you spent with the pogues riding bikes together fading into more recent memories of Rafe carrying you on his back on your way home from a houseparty. Sometimes you think of that girl you used to be. Even if you wanted to be her again, you had no idea how. Riding on the back of JJ Maybank’s bike while the sun was setting and the rest of your friends trailing closely behind you. You remember the sound of your laughter while your arms and hair danced in the wind. The thought reminds you of earlier that night in Rafe’s car and the similar sensation you had felt while leaning out the window. You immediately felt guilty for thinking about the past — you loved Rafe… and they didn’t want you with him.
Attempting to keep your thoughts from slipping out of your control, you begin to start thinking of what painkillers you could steal from your parents medicine cabinet. Continuing to stumble home while considering whether or not there was enough oxycontin or vicodin that could be stolen without someone noticing. Nobody ever did.
Noticing headlights approaching, you stagger to the side of the road. The streets were usually vacant at this time. You look to your right to see the van you once spent much of your time in, with the paint still chipped and surfboards strapped to the roof. You immediately avert your eyes, desperate to disappear into thin air. The constant presence of Rafe basically ensured that whenever you crossed paths, all of you would just look the other way.
“(Y/N)?” you hear the familiar voice as the van slows down beside you. You hesitate before looking up, meeting the gaze of John Booker Routledge. You’re grateful it is only him in the van, seeing all the faces that represented your old life would be too overwhelming while you were in this state. You don’t slow down your pace, but he drives slowly alongside you awaiting a response. All that you do is quickly glance up with a forced smile, panic rushing over you as you think of what Rafe would say if he knew who you were talking to.
“(Y/N)… are you okay?” he asks, noticing the blood running down your shins and unsteady steps. “I’m great.” you reply, eyes glued to the road ahead of you. Your voice comes out sounding harsh. You feel a pang of guilt, but you’re not the same girl that John B remembers. You’ve become detached and full of anger — ready to unleash it on anyone in an instant.
“I can’t let you walk home like this.” he states with a sigh, looking between you and the road as he drives alongside you.
“You’re not letting me do anything,” you retort. “Besides, Rafe would beat the shit out of you if he found out.”
John B scoffs, “I’m not scared of your boyfriend.” You should be, you think to yourself. “And besides, I don’t see him anywhere.”
That comment caused you to stop in your tracks and stiffen up. John B hits the brakes. You constantly craved Rafe’s presence and standing on the side of the road bloody and bruised and practically sober, you never felt more alone.
“Shut up, Booker.” you almost whisper. His eyes softened at the use of his middle name that he only ever let you call him by, “Listen, I’m sorry. Just let me take you home.”
You think the faster you get home, the faster you make it to the medicine cabinet. So you get in.
What would’ve been a 30 minute walk was just a short 6 minute drive. Silence had filled the space between you and the boy who you once called your best friend. After what seemed like forever, your large blue house finally came into view. You were prepared to make a quick exit with just a simple ‘thank you’ but John B sighed as he put the car in park, obviously wanting to say something.
“(Y/N), I know it’s been almost two years but—” you cut him off, “We’re not doing this. Thank you for the ride but, we are not doing this.”
You manage to open the passenger door slightly so you can make a swift escape from the last conversation you want to have but John B reaches over you, slamming it shut and making you flinch which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please let me say this.” he pleads. You sit there staring at your hands as he continues, “We never stopped caring about you. I don’t care where you are, or who you are with. Pogues for life… I don’t care how much of a kook you or everybody else thinks you are.”
You shake your head, “You think you know everything.” you recycle the words you had just heard from your boyfriend, “You don’t know shit.”
“You’re wrong.” he replies, “I know you, (Y/N).”
You break your gaze from your hands, looking at him in the eye for the first time. The words come out soft and sort of sad, “Not anymore.”
You exit the car and begin to walk towards the door of your cold and harsh home.
“(Y/N)!” John B shouts. You spin on your heels, with a sigh. What more can be said, you think. “You know where to find us… if you ever need anything.” With that, he drives away.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
You collected the pills that you hoped would make you forget the events that took place and snuck into your bedroom. Leaning against the counter of your ensuite bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Someone with messy hair, smudged makeup, and bloodshot eyes stares back at you. But what caught your attention was the hand shaped bruise that was beginning to form on your jaw. Your fingertips graze over the area as tears form in your eyes. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach. It wasn’t Rafe’s violent nature that scared you. It was realizing that no matter what he did, you would still love him. You pop the pills and head to bed.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
The sunlight peeking through your blinds wakes you up. With your head pounding, you reach for the aspirin that you kept on standby as this is how you were left feeling most mornings. Reaching for your phone, you hoped to god that you had messages from Rafe.
No new notifications, just your lockscreen with a picture of you and him kissing from last year's Midsummers staring back at you. Unlocking your phone, you open your contacts. Scrolling to the letter ‘B’ you find the contact information that has laid idle for nearly two years. ‘Booker.’
You stare at the name for what seemed like hours, something inside you willing you to be brave and reach out.
Before that voice got too loud, it was interrupted by your ringtone. ‘RAFE♥’ spread across the screen and your heart rate picked up. You eagerly answered, “Hello?”
“Hi baby girl. Can you be ready in 15 minutes?” he asks, “I just picked up from Barry’s and we’re going to spend the day on the boat I think.”
You hesitate, remembering what it was you almost did mere seconds before you received Rafe’s call. “(Y/N)?”
You snap back into reality, “Yeah, I’ll be waiting on my dock.” you confirm.
“That’s my girl.” you smile at his words, “And hey, sorry about what went down last night. We were both really fucked up.” he chuckles.
You had forgiven Rafe before he even said the words, “Don’t worry about it.”
~ 18+ mdni!! "take it." rafe says, pounding into you. he wraps his hand around your neck, watching your mouth drop open at the feeling.
you whimper at the constant in-and-out, in-and-out of your pussy. you wrap your hand around the firm wrist, the one on your throat.
"oh, fuck. 's so deep." you moan. your eyebrows furrow and your eyes roll back into your head as his cock hits that sweet spot inside of you. it's so good, you've never felt anything so good.
"mmm," rafe hums. "yeah? i can fuckin' see it in you.” he says. he emphasizes his point by placing his other hand on your lower tummy, and he slows his thrusts. a very small — but there — bulge presses against his hand, protruding very slightly from inside you.
you moan out at the feeling, focusing your gaze on the spot on your stomach. it's so carnal, all of it. his voice, his words, his fucking cock inside of you so big that it shows from the outside.
"fuck, fuckfuckfuck. ray — ‘m gonna. gonna come. please, please lemme." you slur out. your whole body tenses, thighs trembling, chasing nirvana. he leans down, chest-to-chest, hand still around your throat, and whispers in your ear.
"yeah, baby. cream on my cock. show me." he then takes his tongue and licks slowly from the bottom of your jaw to the start of your hairline on your forehead.
and you scream.
your entire body trembles, legs shaking, muscles tensing, and you're pretty sure everyone in the neighborhood can hear you. tears stream from your eyes and drool falls from the corners of your mouth as you let go. it's a life-altering experience. it is every time rafe fucks you.
"there it is, baby. there you go. so good for me." rafe praises. his thrusts get sloppier and his moans get louder as he fucks you through your never ending orgasm, still hitting that sweet spot inside you.
he pounds into you three-four-five more times before emptying himself inside you, squeezing your throat and making your head go fuzzy. your body gives one more tremble as he slowly pulls out of you, feeling his cum pouring out of your pussy. he removes the hand from your throat and moves back to look at the mess dripping from you.
“don't move." he says. he gets up from the bed, skin shiny with sweat. he grabs his phone from the dresser, opens the camera, and then gets on his knees to get the perfect angle.
and oh. it is.
your pussy is puffy, swollen. streams of opalescent white dripping out. you look fucked beyond compare, cheeks flushed, skin wet with sweat and drool. it's the perfect picture, honestly.
the camera shutters and you smile, covering your face in embarrassment. "mmmm, no. what are you doing?" you whine. rafe looks at the picture and smirks, proud of his work.
"a picture lasts longer, right? say ‘s worth a thousand words." he puts his phone back on the dresser and climbs back into bed, wrapping you in his arms.
~ 18+ mdni!! you’ve taken a concerning interest in sucking rafe’s cock. every time he let’s you suck his dick, your brain short circuits.
your oral fixation is at its peak; always has been. needing something in your mouth — fingers/fingernails, pens, pencils, marker caps, chewing gum, straws, rafe’s cock.
which is why you’re on your knees with hands clasped together in your lap, looking up at rafe with a mouth full of cock.
rafe is leaning against the wall in his overly grand and glorious floor-to-ceiling windowed beach house living room that sits prettily on the shore overlooking the outer banks.
both of his hands are buried in the top of your hair, gathering most of it on back of your head. he’s practically white-knuckling it, using his hands to guide your head over his cock.
your eyes are blown out, pupils swallowing all color around them. your lips are stretched thin around rafe, slick and shiny with spit and precome. your nose is running profusely, spit dripping down your chin and falling in slow drips onto your neck and bare chest. your cheeks are flushed red, eyebrows furrowed upwards.
“got the best fucking mouth, jesus christ.” rafe groans, moving your head slowly over his dick; loving the warm and wet feeling of your mouth.
you whine, trailing your hand down to your clothed clit and rubbing through the fabric. you liked having things in his mouth, sure — helps you focus and you practically do it mindlessly. but when you’re on the ground being face-fucked like a slut by the hottest and richest dude on the island, it gets you off quicker than a virgin having sex for the first time.
you try to move your head faster, wanting to feel rafe down your throat; wanting to get your nose crushed into his pubes, feel his balls pressing on your chin.
but, rafe tugs harshly on your hair, scolding you for ‘misbehaving’ and eventually pulls you off his dick, making make eye contact with you. his cock slaps against your spit-slick lips and you fucking mewl at the feeling.
“so desperate for it, aren’t you? practically begging for me to fuck your throat.” rafe removes one hand from your hair and grips the base of his cock. he drags the tip of it over your lips and ends up slapping it slightly on your mouth, cheeks, even the tip of your nose.
“mhmm,” you whine. “want it, want it so bad.” trying to push your head towards the dick mere millimeters from your mouth and away from the strain of rafe’s fist in your hair.
rafe snaps. shoves his dick back into your mouth and pushes, pushes, pushes all the way to the back of your throat, pelvis flush with your mouth and nose.
you moan wetly, loudly around rafe, grinding your hips down into the hand on your pussy. you’re so close to coming in your soaked panties, your three fingers swirling your clit. you’d normally be embarrassed, insecure of the sheer amount of no self-control around rafe, but at this moment in time, you couldn’t care less.
rafe starts truly fucking your throat — constant wet plap! noises fill the living room, the beach sunset basking you and rafe in orange and yellow and the crashing of the waves on the shore, both of your moans and whines and whimpers and groans sounding blissful after one another.
“fuck, i’m gonna come. so fucking good for me, baby. gonna swallow it f’r me, yeah?” rafe’s unhinged. his hips moving fast, the entire bottom half of his torso is covered in spit, sweat, precome, snot, and tears. you nod, hollow your cheeks, flutter your eyes shut, and do your best to make rafe come before yourself.
rafe fucks one, two, three more times into your throat and releases the most pornographic moan, his voice cracking at the end, turning into the most sinful whine you have ever heard. cum streaks down your throat for what feels like eons; just coming, coming, coming — like it doesn’t have an end.
just that alone has you coming into your dripping panties like a thirteen year old girl just discovering how to masturbate, hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into your head, face full of sin. mouth opening wide, spit escaping out the corners of your mouth, your tongue cradling the underside of rafe’s cock.
rafe humps his hips into you, chasing the feeling of his orgasm; releasing pitiful whines as he does so while you come down from your orgasm.
rafe moves both hands to the sides of your face and strokes his thumbs over your cheeks; wiping away the never ending amount of tear tracks. you pull off of him teasingly, mouth closing around the head of his dick and giving it a few kitten-licks and kitten-kisses before standing up and crashing both of your lips together.
“god. you’re unbelievable,” rafe says after you pull away. “you get better and better every time … you cheatin’ on me? practicing all the time?”
you scoff, roll your eyes, and slapped him on the arm. “sorry that i have a severe need to have things in my mouth twenty-four seven.”
rafe chuckled. “definitely works out in my favor though.”
