ward’s grip on your hips is iron-tight, bruising the soft skin he’s marked a thousand times before, his thick cock buried to the hilt in your dripping cunt while rafe watches from the chair, stroking himself slow. “look at her, son,” ward growls low, pelvis flush to yours — “my granddaughter’s tight little pussy still flutters like it did the first time i stretched it open without you knowing.” he pulls out just enough to slap the fat head against your swollen clit — smearing your cream everywhere — then slams back in so deep your belly bulges. “been thinkin’ about this all week, angel. grandad’s balls been achin’ to flood his favorite girl again. you gonna milk me dry tonight while your daddy films it?” ward’s thumb circles your puckered asshole, pressing in dry just to hear you choke on a sob.
dad!rafe
now, rafe stands over you with hungry eyes, chest rising and falling fast as he watches his father ruin his daughter’s poor little cunt. camera zooming in on where ward’s fat hairy cock splits your hole in two, clit peeking out and twitching with every nasty thrust. “fuck, look at that greedy little pussy,” he mutters, barely there like he’s in some sort of twisted fascination at the sickness presenting itself before him. “that wet for your grandfather’s old dick, babygirl? y’been creaming on his tired ass without me knowin’, huh?” he reaches down, spreading your lips wider with two fingers so the lens catches the obscene stretch, the way your walls flutter and grip ward’s cock like it was made for him. rafe’s own cock is still rock-hard in his shorts, straining painfully as he watches his daughter’s precious cunt get ruined. “this pussy belongs to me first. i made it — and you really get this fuckin’ wet for him?” rafe pulls his fingers away only to shove two of them into your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick mixed with ward’s precum.
reader!you
your back arches off the sheets, legs shaking uncontrollably as ward pounds into you without mercy, his heavy body pinning you down while rafe towers above, camera capturing every obscene second. tears streak your flushed cheeks, drool slipping from your parted lips as the stretch burns so good it scrambles your brain. “daddy — fuck, he’s so deep, stretchin’ me so fuckin’ full i can’t think.” you choke out, voice wrecked and breathy, hips twitching up to meet every thrust like you can’t help it. you reach back, spreading your ass for him like the desperate slut you are. “more, grandaddy, please — ruin your granddaughter’s pussy. i need it deeper, don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done with me.” your words turn into broken whimpers when ward does — grinding harder against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.
in which rafe cameron finds the girl of his dreams, and refuses to let her go
PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader, rafe cameron x pogue!reader
WARNINGS: given last name (Bradshaw), making out, soft rafe, angst, ward being a jerk (as per usual), kie being nosy, kissing, fluff ending
WORD COUNT: 2.1k
🎶 : another life - sza
AN: ♥️💗
The summer air was heavy, savory even, thanks to the salt spraying from the ocean. You ducked your head, running quickly across the Ward’s large lawn. The house, or mansion, more like, was guarded by motion detectors and traps, set to go off with one wrong move. Pausing below Rafe’s window, you tried to figure out a way you could scale the wall. The gutter was right in front of you, practically calling your name. Then again, you had little faith in that supporting your body weight. The porch was directly under his window, and if you willed yourself (or utilized your upper body strength), you would be in the clear.
You decided to do the latter. Jumping up to the roof, you carefully walked the rest of the way to his window, tapping urgently, the fear of getting caught clouding your mind. "Let me in!" You hissed, tapping on the glass a little louder than before. "Rafe!"
His room appeared empty, and you frowned. He’d just texted you saying he was home, so why was he not in his room? The door's handle moved, and your eyes widened, pressing your body against the wall, holding your breath. The window creaked open, Rafe’s familiar timbre breaking the silence. "Front doors exist, you know.”
You scoffed, climbing through the window clumsily. "As if your father wants you associating with a disgraced Bradshaw."
Rafe shut the window behind you, muttering under his breath. "I don't care what my dad thinks. He's an asshole anyway."
"Never said he wasn't." You looked around his room, arms crossed defensively. "Still looks the same."
He fought the urge to roll his eyes, watching with evident amusement. "You were here last week."
"Yes, last week when I was still a somewhat redeemable Bradshaw and my mother hadn’t abandoned me."
Rafe frowned, hands carefully wrapping around your waist. "Are you alright? You know it’s fine if you’re not. You've been through-"
"I don't want to talk about it." You wiggled your eyebrows mischeviously. "Now take off your clothes."
He shook his head. "You can't just show up here whenever you want and expect something. You're using me to ignore the real problem. You know that you need to talk to someone. Your father died, and your mom abandoned-"
You leaped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Rafe- just let me forget about that for tonight, please."
He sighed, pulling you flush against him. “You're not getting out of talking about this."
Lacing your fingers into the hair near the nape of his neck, you tugged, eyes fluttering shut as his lips neared yours. "I think I just did."
Placing his hand gently on the side of your face, he pulled your lips to his once more. "God, I love you." His breath hitched, heart dropping as he waited for a reaction. "I-"
You smiled, actually smiled. "I love you, too. Now less talking and more-” He fell back on his bed, pulling you along with him. “Smooth.”
He grinned, eyes falling to your lips every so often. “I try my best.”
The morning light streamed through the blinds, ripping you from your sleep. You dug your face into your pillow, trying to indulge yourself in a few more moments of peace. You sighed, reaching out in Rafe’s general direction, frowning when you realized that Rafe was no longer in bed.
You groaned, pulling the covers tight around you as you sat up. "Rafe? Where are you?"
No response.
You huffed, standing up and investigating. He wasn’t in his bathroom or his closet, which was much too large for a boy who wore the same three outfits. You felt dejected - after last night, you would have thought he’d stay with you, talking about everything and nothing.
Your eyes caught the time on his alarm clock, pulling you back to reality. You had work in three hours, and since you did not have a single work-appropriate item of clothing stored here, you had to go back home. Your shorts were thrown haphazardly across the room, your shirt at the foot of his bed. It was like a scavenger hunt, finding all of your clothing before he came back.
"Leaving so soon?"
You grabbed your shirt off the ground, nodding. "I have work, Rafe. I know that's something you're not accustomed to-"
"Don't do that.” He frowned. “Don’t start deflecting." He shut his door, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Stay. I’ll drive you so you’re not late.”
“I don’t know-”
“I’ll make you breakfast, you can take a shower. I’ll buy you a new outfit, even. We can talk." He spun you around, smirking at the flustered look on your face. "Stay with me."
You tried to fight it, his charm, his loving look, but he was hard to tell no. Irresistible, you would call him to your friends. Never to his face, his ego was already too large. "Alright, fine. I'll stay." He nodded like he already knew you’d say yes. You hissed at his back, watching as he walked back out the door and down the stairs. "Blueberry pancakes, please."
He laughed, saluting you playfully. “Yes, ma'am."
You showered quickly because even though Rafe had vowed to drive you so you weren’t late, there was still that nagging voice in the back of your head saying that you would be.
You pulled on the clothes you’d worn yesterday before venturing back out to his bedroom, searching for a hoodie in his closet. The familiar creak of his bedroom door broke the silence, and you laughed. "Those pancakes didn't take long-"
Ward Cameron stood in the doorway of his son's closet with an eerily calm demeanor. Your heart dropped, knowing that every outcome of this conversation would be less than desirable. "Mr.Cameron."
He smiled, but you knew that look. It was fake, the kind of smile you give your boss who you secretly hate. "You are not my son."
You quickly pulled on Rafe’s hoodie, a chill running down your spine. "I was just leaving."
He smile and faded into a purse, lips tight and rigid. "Perfect." You turned to the window, pulling it open before realizing your mistake.
Turning around, you walked toward the bedroom door, smiling gratefully when the older man moved just enough out of the way to let you by.
You’d almost been free, your foot already on the first step, when Ward grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "I don't want to ever see you on my property ever again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir-”
“Stay away from my son. You and your family's recent fall in-” He grimaced. “Your reputation will ruin his prospects, his future. I don’t need you messing up everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” He let go, his smile much brighter now. "Have we reached an agreement?" You nodded, and he sighed disappointedly. "Speak up."
"Yes, yes, agreed. I agree." You ran down the stairs, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Sorry for disturbing you."
Rafe pushed the door open, carefully balancing the tray he’d made for you.
The blueberry pancakes you’d requested were spent and center, along with a coffee and a small bouquet of daises. “I hope these meet your standards, Your Highness.”
Setting the tray down on his night stand, he frowned, looking around his room curiously. “Baby?”
“Shit!” Your voice rang through his window from the lawn.
He tilted his head, looking out his window for the source of the curse. “Baby, where are you going?” You opened your mouth, about to speak, before deciding against it. If you spoke, he would break you down, convince you to stay, and you couldn’t do that to him.
Rafe leaned out the window and yelled after you, confused beyond belief as to why you were leaving without saying goodbye. “Come back!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Kiara pulled you aside, smiling quickly at a customer who walked past. “You’ve been all mopey since you got here.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Kie.” You faked a smile, sticking your tongue out. “See? I’m smiling.”
“I don’t appreciate the sass.” She glared, lowering her voice. “Is this about-”
“I don’t appreciate you butting into my personal buisness.” You teased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the regular at table five is waving me down.”
Kiara scoffed, yelling after you as you walked away. “You’re in denial!”
You ignored Kiara, smiling at the man in front of you. “You want the usual?”
“I think I’ll try something new today, sweetheart.” He glanced down at the menu, fixing his glasses before reading off his order.
The entrance bell rang behind you, but you ignored it, taking the menu from the customer's hand. The old man smiled, laughing to himself. “Your friend is staring at you.”
You laughed along with him, making a mental note to smack Kiara upside the head. “She’s like that.”
“You mean he?”
You nodded, smiling like you had made the mistake on purpose. “Sorry, sir. Long day.”
“No worries, sweetheart.”
You knew he’d follow you. You wish he hadn’t, but Rafe was nothing if not persistent. Keeping your head down, you danced past him and behind the counter, placing the menus back in their assigned spot. “Please leave.”
“You left,” Rafe whispered, leaning over the counter. “With no explanation.”
“I didn’t think you would need one.” You explained like it was obvious. “Are you going to take a seat?”
He raised an eyebrow, obviously not enjoying your approach to the situation. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“Are you going to tell me why you left?”
You sighed, pouring a mug of coffee and stepping out from behind the counter. “Either take a seat or leave, Rafe.”
“I’m not leaving.” He was adamant, following after you as you handed the mug of coffee to your customer.
“Is this young man bothering you?” The old man whispered, admiration blooming in your heart.
You shook your head, smiling. “No, but you’re sweet for asking.”
Rafe smiled quickly at the old man before turning back to you. “What happened? I thought we’d finally-”
“You want the truth?”
“That’s all I want.” His hand twitched, and you could tell he was itching to reach out and hold you.
“Here’s the truth. I’m not good enough for you.”
“Not good enough for me?” He laughed, his voice raising, grabbing the attention of your customers. “Not good enough-”
“Your reputation is everything, Rafe. I can’t be the one who ruins it, I just can’t.” Your eyes were watering for the third time that day. It was embarrassing, honestly. “Now will you please leave?”
“I’m not leaving.” He looked thoroughly upset. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s the truth.” You hissed. “That’s what you asked for.”
“You sound like my father right now.” He laughed. “If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”
“We both know that’s not the truth.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a disgraced-”
“Stop saying that.” His voice was weak, practically pleading. “Wait a second, did my-”
“Rafe.” You couldn’t have him catching on. “Go home, please.”
“What did my father say to you?” You avoided his eyes, staring at the wooden floor. “I knew it.”
“Rafe-”
“I’m gonna kill him.”
“Rafe!” You hissed. “Don’t say that. He’s just looking out for you.”
“So he did say something then?” Rafe took your silence for an answer, turning toward the door. “I’ll be back.”
“No.” You shook your head, following after him, ignoring the onlookers. “It’s not worth it, really.”
“Well, it’s his fault that I lost you, so I would say it’s worth it.” He jumped into his jeep, slamming the door shut. “He’s gonna-”
“You didn’t lose me.” You called out, heart beating a million miles a second. “You never lost me.”
“What?” He climbed out of his car. “What did you just say?”
“I said-” You laughed, in disbelief that this was all happening. That this was real, and not a dream. “You didn’t lose me.”
“Yeah?” He walked slowly toward you, like a lion stalking its prey. “You still want me?”
“I always have.” You whispered, scared to move. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”
“Dangerous words.” He was grinning, pulling you into him. “I might have to kidnap you, take you away and ravage you.”
“Can’t do that.” You laughed, your breath intertwining with his. “I have to finish my shift.”
“Well, shit.” He frowned. “Guess I’ll just have to kiss you here.”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Guess so.”
He leaned down, lips soft like he thought this was all still a mirage, something he’d imagined. A growl escaped from his throat, pulling you impossibly close, lips attacking your passionately. You yelped, giggling as he tried to keep kissing you. “Stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just-” You pecked his lips. “You’re attacking me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His eyes were soft, lips still against yours as he spoke. “You’re not leaving, I don’t care what my dad says.”
“Excuse me?” You jumped, pulling yourself out of Rafe’s arms. Kie was standing on the porch, her hand on her hips. “I’m glad this-” She waved in your direction. “Got resolved, but your table’s food is ready. So… break it up.”
“Alright.” You nodded. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Kie smiled. “Stop distracting my employees, Cameron.”
“I’m not your employee!” You yelled at Kie. “Stop spreading lies.”
Rafe laughed at you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his hold as he saluted the pogue. “Yes, ma’am.”
Summary: just a cute fic of the Cameron family being one big happy family and infatuated with you and Rafe’s daughter 🥰
Warnings: breastfeeding (?) apart from that this is all fluff
Word count: 1388
A/n: this was so cute to write 🥹🥹 loved writing the fact that the Cameron family is tight-knit and love one another
MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)
divider be @yoonitos
“Got everything?” Rafe glanced back at you, his hands full with bags laden with mostly Mabel’s things. You hummed contentedly, one hand gently adjusting the bucket hat on Mabel’s head while her plushy little hands playfully reached for your face, her giggles filling the air.
“We’re not late are we?” You called out as the two of you boarded the Cameron’s luxurious yacht. “Hmm? Not really, they can wait,” Rafe grinned, glancing around as you shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re here! They’re here!” Wheezie’s voice echoed excitedly from above deck, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps rushing towards you.
You shared an amused glance with Rafe as he shook his head affectionately. “Wheezie, slow down!” Sarah’s voice called out in a mixture of exasperation and amusement, just before Wheezie came bounding around the corner, closely followed by Sarah, Rose, and Ward.
“Hey!” You greeted them warmly, arms open for hugs all around. Wheezie and Ward gravitated towards you and Mabel, their faces lighting up at the sight of the youngest Cameron family member.
Wheezie squealed, bouncing up and down in excitement as she gently pinched Mabel’s cheek. “Hey, easy there,” Rafe interjected firmly, earning a glare from his younger sister, though you couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s okay, Rafe, she’s being gentle,” you reassured him with an affectionate smile, his protective nature endearing as always. “Wanna take her, dad?” you offered to Ward, who nodded eagerly. “May I?” he asked softly, reaching out to cradle Mabel in his arms.
“Of course you can, she’s your granddaughter,” you chuckled, leaning in closer as Mabel reached out to Ward, her little arms outstretched in anticipation. You moved closer to Rafe’s side, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice low with admiration as he whispered, “They all look so happy.”
Jesus, Sarah. Stop shoving your phone in her face,” Rafe groaned, his tone edged with mild annoyance as he watched Sarah snap yet another 0.5 photo of Mabel. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the sight, knowing that it was always Sarah’s candid photos of Mabel that Rafe eventually looked back on with a chuckle.
“Send them to me,” you mouthed to Sarah, who winked in response, both of you giggling like schoolgirls. “What are you giggling about, hmm?” Rafe asked, looking down at you with a smile, his irritation quickly fading. “Nothing, nothing,” you said, your smile widening. “Just excited to get to the island and have lunch together as a family again.”
Rafe’s smile softened, appreciating how much you valued these family moments. Before he could say more, Rose chimed in, glancing at her watch. “Okay, I think we should move this upstairs, don’t you think?” she suggested. Everyone agreed, and the group began making their way up to the spacious upper deck. The Bahamas sun was bright overhead, casting a warm glow over the yacht.
“You know, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m right here,” Wheezie offered, linking her arm through yours as you ascended the stairs. She batted her eyelashes playfully, making you giggle at her antics. Rafe, close behind, scoffed. “Yeah, as if I’m letting you look after my kid by yourself.”
Wheezie rolled her eyes dramatically. “And why not?” Rafe gave her an incredulous look. “Remember the time you almost burnt down the house because you wanted to heat up chicken nuggets in the microwave?” Wheezie huffs, “That’s not fair!” She protests, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to put metal in the microwave!”
Your jaw dropped in mock horror as you imagined the scene. “Exactly,” Rafe said, patting Wheezie’s head with a teasing smile. “You’re not looking after Mabel by yourself. End of story.” He walked away, leaving Wheezie pouting with her arms folded. You squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Maybe you can help out when I’m around,” you suggested, trying to lift her spirits. Wheezie perked up a bit, her eyes brightening at the idea. “Deal!” she said, grinning.
~
“Guys! You have to tan with me, the UV rays are insane right now!” Sarah called out from one of the outdoor loungers, her phone in hand as she checked the weather app. “I’ll be right there!” you shouted back, finishing up changing Mabel’s clothes. You handed her to Rose and Ward, who eagerly took over entertaining their granddaughter with coos and smiles.
Rafe trailed behind you, intrigued by the idea of getting some sun. He settled next to you on the lounger, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun wash over him.“How are your boobs not saggy?” Sarah suddenly blurted out as she watches you tie up your hair, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Sarah!” Rafe hissed, shooting her a disapproving look.“Shit, sorry. Is that a bad thing to ask?” Sarah’s face flushed slightly, realizing the bluntness of her question. You couldn’t help but laugh, finding the situation amusing. Sarah joined in, her laughter a bit more nervous.
“I’m just asking. All my friends said that your boobs begin to sag because your baby is always sucking on them,” she explained, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Which one of your friends has a fucking baby at your age?” Rafe interjected, his expression one of pure disbelief.
“None of them. They were just saying that,” Sarah shrugged nonchalantly. You giggled, reaching over to rub sunscreen on Rafe’s face where he’d missed a spot. “I think it’s different for everyone. I mean, I hope mine don’t sag,” you said, glancing down at your chest and giving them a light, playful touch.
“You have such nice tits, it’s really unfair, ” Sarah sighed dramatically, leaning back and closing her eyes against the sun. Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m putting my AirPods in,” he announced, inserting them with a huff as you and Sarah chuckled.
~
“Mabel, come here,” Rafe clapped his hands with a gentle yet encouraging tone. Mabel babbled happily, steadying herself before taking a few small, determined steps towards you and Rafe; you were nestled against his chest as you cheered her on.
“Keep coming, sweetie,” you cooed softly, your hands ready to catch her. Eventually, Mabel reached you and crashed into your waiting arms with a squeal. You kissed her chubby cheek affectionately, “Good job, baby girl!” You lifted her up in the air, as she squealed with joy.
Rafe took the moment to take a photo, capturing the pure happiness on both your faces. As Rafe looked through the many photos already taken, you couldn’t help but notice how Mabel lingered close to your chest.
“Are you hungry, bels?” You asked gently, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Glancing at your phone, you noticed it was about time for Mabel’s next feeding.
With Rafe still focused on his phone, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked through the photos of you and Mabel, you adjusted your bikini top and began to nurse Mabel.
Noticing the quietness, Rafe briefly looks down, his eyes widening slightly. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered under his breath, quickly reaching behind him to grab his shirt.
“What? Mabel was hungry,” you said innocently, as Mabel peers up to the both of you. Rafe didn’t mind you breastfeeding in public, if his baby girl was hungry, she was hungry. But he always made sure to help you cover up with a blanket when you puly down your top, his protective instincts kicking in.
Rafe’s gaze darted around, making sure no one was watching. “You should’ve let me know beforehand so I could’ve helped you cover up,” he murmured, adjusting the shirt and to peek at Mabel.
You chuckled softly, appreciating his concern and love. Mabel watched the two of you with wide, curious eyes as she nursed contentedly. "Next time I will," you assured him, reaching over to pat his thigh affectionately.
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Liked by itssarahcameron, christoper_thorton, rosejcameron and 85,208 others
@/rafemfcameron we’ve got the cutest baby 🥰
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rafemfcameron: damn right mamas
↘️ eloise_cameron: I just puked 🤢
↘️ rafemfcameron: throwing u off the boat
itssarahcameron: SQUISHY
↘️ rafemfcameron: are you calling my kid fat?
↘️ yourusername: HAHAHAHAHA
christoper_thorton: guys let me babysit her again
↘️ yourusername: you tried offering her one of your brownies top….
WARNINGS .ᐟ very detailed gore, smut, SA, violence, smoking, drinking, death, abuse, drugs
cw: stockholmsyndrome!user, mean!rafe (not the abuser), mentions of guns/weapons, mentions of really detailed gore/death, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse.
CHAPTER 2
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The gunshots echoed through the mansion, you flinched hard and stumbled into the room with shaky hands grabbing blindly for something—anything.
Your eyes darted everywhere except at Rose’s mutilated body, but the smell—coppery blood mixed with something sickly sweet like perfume and rotten—hit you anyway. Your stomach lurched violently. You slapped a hand over your mouth, gagging as bile burned the back of your throat.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Dad would tell you to toughen up. He’d say this is nothing compared to what’s coming—Footsteps. Heavy, fast, coming toward the room.
Shit… you weren’t really in the mood to get murdered right now. Panic surged through you so you lunged backwards towards Rose’s vanity, grabbing the first thing your fingers closed around—you looked down and saw a heavy silver hairbrush? It wasn’t much, but you clutched it like a weapon since it really is right now.
Then you screamed when Rafe burst into view, pacing wildly just beyond the threshold, one hand gripping a pistol and the other tearing through his hair. His shirt was splattered with fresh blood that definitely wasn’t his. His eyes were wild, breathing ragged.
“Holy shit—” He swung the gun up on instinct, barrel pointing straight at your chest. He looked messed up, his eyes rimmed red. “Fuck—what the hell are you still doing here?”
His gaze landed on you head to toe, trying to find a sign you were one of those flesh eating fucks and putting the gun down when he was satisfied you were just a breathing pogue, he lowered the gun sloghtly, though his finger stayed close to the trigger.
Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his hands were shaking—almost dropping the pistol. He just shot his dad and one of their housekeeper’s dead.
“The fucking world’s ending, that’s what. Ward’s dead. Rose is—” He jerked his chin toward the carnage on the floor, refusing to look at her again. “—lunch. Those things aren’t people anymore. They’re dead and they’re still walking around eating anything that moves.”
“Stop bullshitting me, rafe… you murdered them!” You yelled at him from across the room, holding onto the brush until your knuckles turned white.
“Murdered them? You seriously fuckin’ think I can do that to my own fami—“ He pressed his fingers hard against his temple, eyes narrowing.
You saw it before he did.
Behind him in the hallway, a figure shambled forward—Wheezie. Rafe’s little sister. Her pajamas were soaked in blood, her small face half-torn, one cheek completely chewed away. Her eyes were milky and vacant, hands reaching out with a low moan that made your stomach drop.
You held onto the vanity tighter, pointing frantically behind him. “holy shit… rafe!”
Rafe spun around. The second he saw her, everything in him shattered.
He raised the gun with violently shaking hands, aiming at her. But his finger froze on the trigger. He couldn’t do it. Just like how he couldn’t shoot that cannibalistic shit who was ripping his dad apart, he could’ve saved him… made him fucking proud for once.
His face crumpled, tears mixing with the blood splattered on his cheeks as Wheezie kept lurching toward him, moaning hungrily, teeth snapping.
You looked at him—then moved. You dropped the hairbrush on the vanity before you bolted behind him toward the large bay window. Your hands fumbled desperately with the latch, shoving it open as hard as you could before humid air and the smell of rotten rushed in.
Wheezie was only a few feet away from him, arms outstretched. You didn’t imagine you’d think of this but thank god her other leg was eaten fully to the bone—making her slower.
“Rafe!” You yelled. “Come on!”
“Man up, rafe… man up, fuck—c’mon…” he muttered to himself, hands shaking and almost looking like he was one drop of sweat away from dropping the gun.
He almost looked, hurt?
You sighed and reached back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking hard. “Rafe, c’mon… you don’t have to!”
Rafe stumbled like he was in a daze, tears still cutting through the blood on his face. But when you pulled him, something in him finally snapped back. “I don’t need pogue’s telling me what to do.”
You climbed out first, dropping down onto the roof of the lower level with a thud. Rafe followed right after, nearly falling as his legs shook. Behind you, Wheezie reached the window, her bloodied hands slapping against the frame as she tried to follow.
Rafe didn’t look back.
He grabbed your arm roughly again, dragging you across the roof toward the edge. “We’re using the dirt bike.”
You both dropped down into the yard, landing hard on the grass. “get down.” he hissed.
The groans were everywhere now—shadows moving near the treeline and along the driveway. Rafe fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the dirt bike keys with trembling fingers—almost dropping them. His face was still wet with tears, but his jaw was locked tight in that familiar and unhinged glare.
“Get on,” he ordered, swinging a leg over the bike and starting it with a roar. The engine cut through the night, way too loud. “And hold the fuck on. If you fall off, I’m not coming back for you.”
You climbed on behind him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Rafe revved the engine hard, tires spitting gravel as the dirt bike shot forward through the yard.
The wind whipped against your face as the Cameron estate disappeared behind you. But the further you got, the tighter that sick knot in your chest became.
“Wait… my dad,” you said suddenly, voice rising over the roar of the engine. You squeezed his waist harder, almost panicked. “Rafe, stop—we have to go back for my dad. He’s still at the house. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s waiting for me—”
“Are you fucking serious?” He didn’t slow down. “Your dad? the piece of shit that hits you everyday?”
“He doesn’t!” you defended him. “Please, let’s just go back for him! he’s gonna die, rafe!”
You panicked, hitting his back now.
“Fuck… fine!” he snapped, voice barely audible over the engine. “We’ll swing by your place. Just hold on.”
He sounded like he was giving in. Almost reluctant, but cooperative. For a second, that familiar warmth bloomed in your chest—someone listening to you, even if it was Rafe. Maybe he wasn’t half as bad as everyone said.
But instead of turning back toward the Cut? Rafe took a sharp left onto a narrower trail that led deeper into the island’s interior, away from both Figure Eight and your neighborhood. The bike bounced over roots and sand as he accelerated again.
You leaned forward, confused. “Rafe… this isn’t the way—”
“Shortcut, okay?” he snapped again, voice shaky while cutting you off. “Trust me. Less of those things this way. We’ll circle around.”
He was lying.
Helllooo!!
This is the second part, let me just get it clear that user is just like Kiara to Rafe, one of the pogues he actually tolerates.
i do hope you guys enjoyed this one as much as the first one and unhinged, greasy bangs rafe will come soon… 😘
[warnings] dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, future smut, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+
A/N: This is an au I'm trying out where Kildare County is actually in Montana and all the pogues and kooks exist within a ranching community. Hope you enjoy!! I would really appreciate feedback, reblogs are most appreciated!
In which your dying father struck a deal with Ward Cameron, he promised the family land in exchange for your safety. But protection comes with a price, and that price is Rafe Cameron.
word count: 5k
rough hands, soft chains masterlist
After the funeral, you flopped down on the old leather couch in your living room, absently twirling a lock of your hair as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your black dress, meant for the sweltering summers, fell just below your knees. You’d paired it with a shawl you found tucked away in your mother’s dresser, a pretty, soft thing with little patterns you didn’t understand, but it smelled like her, so it felt right.
People at the funeral said you looked “so grown up” now, which filled you with a sense of pride. They said nothing about the dirt under your nails from wandering around the yard barefoot earlier that morning or the way your mascara smeared from crying too much. No one ever took you seriously anyway.
The quiet of the house was deafening, pressing in at you at all sides. The lack of his presence weighed on you. He’d built every corner of this house, your mother painted every wall, and you were grateful for the life they’d built you. Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them. You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either.
A loud knock at the front door made the house shake and snapped you from your daze. It was not the knock of a kind neigbor delivering a sympathy caserole, the knock was firm and authoritative. You half expected the sheriff to be behind the door but instead found yourself staring back at Ward Cameron.
You pushed back the curls that had fallen into your face. He stood before you, tipping his finest black cattleman hat with deliberate grace, lifting it from his head and placing it over his chest in a quiet gesture of respect. His square jawline was sharp, his striking blue eyes unflinching, and though the gray streaks in his hair hinted at age, they only added to his rugged handomenss.
“Miss,” he greeted you smoothly, his voice as sharp as the crease in his shirt. He looked out of place here, too clean, too polished for the worn edges of your family’s ranch.
Your anxiety peaked, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You gripped the handle of the door tighter than you expected.
“I think you know why I’m here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time we talked about your father’s arrangements.”
Arrangements? You shifted nervously, trying to make sense of his words. You knew your dad had debts, but it wasn’t like he told you all the details. You knew that a significant amount of your father’s debt was to Ward. It humiliated your father to lease the Cameron’s grazing rights but he only did it to keep the ranch afloat. Money and paperwork were never your thing, and your dad always said not to worry about it. “I—I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ll figure out how to pay you back, okay?”
Although Ward wasn’t the tallest man, most people towered over you, and as he leaned in the doorway, you knew he had your stature in mind.
Still, his smile was empty, “Why don’t we discuss this in your father’s office, hmm?”
“Um, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But before you could shut the door, his hand pushed it open with way too much ease. You stumbled back, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as he walked in like he owned the place.
“Excuse me! You can’t just barge in here!” you squeaked, hurrying after him, his expensive boots, tapping against the creaking floor of your home.
He made his way down the downstairs hallway, barging into the room that not even your father wanted you to step in. Immediately as you stepping inside, a coldness touched you. he heavy oak desk sat like a monument to your father’s stubbornness, papers scattered across its surface in disarray. Just looking at it made your brain feel fuzzy. Ward moved behind it as if it were his own, his hands brushing against the chair’s worn leather.
“I offered to come speak to you, before all of this drama, but your father insisted I wait until he was gone,” Ward gestured to rickety chair that sat in front of the desk, “Sit.”
You ignored him, crossing your arms in stubborness, “What are you talking about?”
“Do you know how much exactly your father owes me? How much you’d be taking on?”
His words, like they had certainly intended to, made you feel stupid. Your father made sure you were uninvolved in the ranch’s finances and he had just passed this week, you hadn’t thought about entering his office and disturbing his things.
You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “Well… um… I know he owed some money, but he didn’t really tell me how much.”
“It’s more than the farm is worth, Y/N.”
The weight of his words settled heavily between you, thickening the already suffocating air in the room. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show any sign of the panic tightening in your chest. The farm, your father’s legacy, your mother’s dreams, was supposed to be yours to save.
“That can’t be right,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “My father would’ve told me if it was that bad.”
“Would he? It’s nothing you should’ve worried your pretty head about,” Ward continued, his eyes sharp and assessing, “We parents try to protect our children. But he was too prideful. Pride doesn’t pay the bills and banks don’t wait forever.”
“The bank–”
“The bank would’ve taken the entire property if your father hadn’t already signed the land over to me.”
Your heart sunk into your stomach at Ward Cameron’s words. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You shook your head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that.”
The land was the only piece of your father that you had left. A hundred acres that your family and only a few ranch hands tended to.There were dwindling amounts of livestock, mounting debts, but it was your home. Humble in comparison to the Cameron’s thousands of acres but it belonged to your family. Even if you were the only one left.
“This all would’ve been easier for you if your father had explained all of this to you before. I think he was scared of you hating him.”
“I don’t understand.”
Ward’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked almost bored with your responses, “We came to an agreement a year after his initial diagnosis. Instead of losing it to the bank, he would sign it over to me.”
“I promised to take care of you.” Ward’s words were slow, deliberate, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You’re unmarried, no prospects, and this place is a sinking ship. Someone was bound to take advantage of you eventually. You don’t have the resources to rebuild.”
“T-take care of me?” you stammered, your face scrunching in confusion.
“You’ll come live with my family for the time being. And eventually you will marry my son, Rafe.”
Your eyes went wild, “Are you crazy?”
Ward’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more smug. “This arrangement keeps the land in the family, ensures your safety, and gives you a future. You’re not equipped to handle this ranch on your own, Y/N. Your father knew that. I’m offering you a way out.”
You gaped at him, your thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of anything. “I… I want to talk to a lawyer or—or see his will or something!”
“You’re out of options. It’s either this arrangement or being out on the streets. I’m tossing you a lifeline.”
“I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
“No,” Ward admitted, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “But your father did. And a Cameron always honors their agreements.”
You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave and take his deal with him, but the weight of your father’s decisions pressed down on you. The debts, the ranch, your future—it was all tangled up in a web you couldn’t escape.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow to pack your things,” Ward said, placing his hat back on his head. “Rafe will come by to collect you.”
He turned and walked to the door without another word, leaving you standing alone in the office. The walls seemed to close in around you, and although you’d be crying for a week, you cried again.
You thought that if you weren’t at the house when Ward’s oldest son came to collect you, they might just give up and leave you be. Maybe you’d slip through the cracks of their plans, vanish into the quiet of the countryside. You could disappear for a little while and return in a few days. It would be rough surviving outside but you could make it on your own. You’d packed a small bag of essentials and took Juliet, the chestnut-colored mare that had belonged to you since your fourteenth birthday.
“Okay, Jules, we’re gonna go on a little adventure,” you whispered as you fumbled with her saddle.
Her large, liquid-brown eyes blinked at you with trust as you led her down the south path, the one behind your family’s ranch, overgrown from years of neglect. You left before the sun had a chance to rise. You didn’t want Ward Cameron or his scary son to find you, after all.
You tried to dress for comfort. Your long jeans would keep you warm, and you layered a jean jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. Perched atop your head was your trusty white cowboy hat, its wide brim offering protection from the sun, taming your unruly curls, while keeping your face shielded.
Juliet made a snorting sound, and you patted her neck. “Don’t worry, girl, we’ve totally got this. Like, what’s the worst that could happen?” You glanced back at the ranch, its dark outline fading behind the trees.
You mounted Juliet after deciding the direction you were going to travel in. You wanted to be much farther away by the time the sun came up. The air was cool and crisp, a reminder of the coming morning. You looked behind you although you were sure no one was following you yet.
The path twisted and turned. “Okay, so if we head toward the old fishing shack by the river, we can stay there for, like, a day. Nobody’s used it in forever.” You spoke out loud, pretending that Juliet could respond. “I think it’s... that way.”
You continued down the path in the direction you remembered the fishing shack to be located. The sun rose slowly, bringing light to the dark path. The shack was tucked away on the outskirts of the ranch, sitting in the bend of the river, most of it shielded by tall grass. The water flowed gently, the sound caressing your ears, it’s hues reflecting the red in the sky.
A clearing sat nearby covered in wildflowers, the bright colors splashed against the muted landscape. You hadn’t ventured this far out since the previous spring and were surprised to see how the flowers had held their vibrancy, defying the chill of the cooler months.
You hopped down from your saddle, taking Juliet’s rein before you tied her to a nearby tree, allowing her room to graze. The shack was small and weathered, and you rested on a rickety cot that you had to clear of cobwebs. It felt safe. At least for now.
If only staying still was your strong suit. A few hours later, boredom quickly got the best of you. You could only talk to Juliet for so long and you’d failed several times to nap inside the dirty shack. The silence pressed in on you. You decided to wander out into the wild flower fields, tugging your cowboy hat low over your curls. The vibrant colors were calling to you.
An hour later, you held a thick bundle flowers in your arm and a crown of daisies wrapped around your hat. Before you knew it, the shack was almost out of your sight and you faced a long trek back to Juliet.
You didn’t hear him at first.
“Hell of a hiding spot.”
The deep drawl froze you in place. Slowly, you turned, heart pounding, your eyes landing on Rafe Cameron sitting tall on his horse a few yards away. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at something darker.
Rafe’s quarter horse was even more intimidating. It’s coat was midnight black, sleek and imposing. There was a wild, untamed quality to him, a fire in his eyes that mirrored Rafe’s own.
“I… I was just…” You stepped back without thinking, the urge to drop your bouquet and bolt creeping up. You’d seen Ward’s son from across a room before, but no one had ever bothered to introduce you. Still, you knew enough from the whispers and rumors. He was wild, always getting into trouble with the Kildare County police, and everyone said he was gonna take over his dad’s power and influence one day.
He was older than you remembered, more rugged, and definitely more muscular. His black button-up shirt clung to broad shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted arms. A baseball cap sat atop his head, the bill slightly bent, with the Cameron Ranch sigil stitched on the front—an emblem of a stallion rearing. His light brown hair peeked from beneath it, slightly tousled.
“You’ve been wandering around all morning. Half the town’s already seen you,” Rafe leaned forward slightly, eyeing you curiously, “If you were gonna run, thought you’d go a little bit farther.”
You gained the courage to finish your sentence, “I wasn’t running …or hiding. And you can’t tell Mr. Cameron that.”
“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.”
Your lips parted in shock and Rafe watched you take another step back. His jaw clicked before he swiftly hopped down from his horse. His heavy boots hit the dirt with a thud that seemed to echo, and you couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of him. Though he wasn’t much older than you, it was clear he towered over you, his presence demanding attention in a way that made your knees feel weak.
“I’m not coming with you,” You stated with all the strength you could muster, “It’s not right. You can’t make me.”
He stared back at you. Where Ward was bored by conversation with you, something about your Ward’s made Rafe’s eyes fiery, “And I guess you’ll make your living by what … selling flower crowns?”
Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t considered that an option. In fact, you hadn’t dwelled long enough on what you would do once Ward gave up on this arranged marriage nor did you have any idea of how to make the ranch profitable again. The idea seemed wrong. Flowers weren’t the key, were they?
“I’m kidding,” Rafe spoke again after a moment of watching you reflect, “That’s a bad fucking idea. You know…I think your father might’ve been right about one thing in his life. You do need someone to look after you.”
“You don’t know me,” You looked away, your face heating up with embarrassment, “And I don’t want to go with you.”
A yelp escaped your lips as he started to close the distance between you, his long strides closing the gap in a matter of seconds. His smirk widened at your reaction, and quickly, you dropped your bouquet and made a run for the fishing shack. Rough hands easily snatched you up by your waist, lifting your feet off the ground, and making your head spin, “You’re real cute, darlin’,” Rafe drawled, hardly breakin a sweat as he dragged you back towards his horse. His grip on your waist was firm, unrelenting, and no matter how much you kicked or squirmed, it didn’t matter. He only hoisted you higher.
Heavy boots crunched against the dirt. You could hear your breathing and the sharp pounding of your heart in your ears. You lost your hat and subsequently your flower crown in the struggle. Scared that you might spook Rafe’s horse, you found yourself succumbing to his force, letting him lift you onto the saddle.
“Please, let me down,” You whispered, tears beginning to fall. Rafe was next, hoisting himself onto the black stallion, squeezing himself behind you. You were pressed against him so much that you could feel the flexing of the muscles of his stomach. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
Rafe shushed you, and surprisingly, you felt him settle your hat back on your head. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. You were never supposed to ride without a hat, that’s what your father had taught you. You barely had time to process it before he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal's hooves pounding the earth beneath you as Rafe held you tightly, “M-My horse, Juliet!” You remembered, panicked, “I won’t go without her, Rafe!”
“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense.”
He kicked the horse into a gallop, the powerful animal responding instantly, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground like thunder in the otherwise still air. The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your face. You gripped the saddle tightly, to anchor yourself, despite knowing that Rafe’s grip was strong enough to keep you from flying.
This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close.
Sure, he’d heard the rumors that you were a little …daft. And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame.
The last thing Rafe wanted was a wife. He resisted the way his father felt like he could stll make decisions for him. Rafe was losing with this arrangement. Your father’s hundred acres was nothing in comparison to what he family already had and would acquire. But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped.
Once you were under the Cameron’s roof, Rafe had the power to do whatever he wanted.
Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.
That morning, Rafe had never expected to chase after you on horseback. He had arrived in his truck, scouring the house for any sign of you, only to realize you were already gone. In frustration, he called John B., one of the Cameron ranch hands, and sent him to bring Trigger, his horse, to the Y/L/N ranch.
When you both returned, John B. was already there, waiting. Thunder cracked above, a sunny morning turning into a dreary afternoon. Rafe barked orders to ensure Juliet and Trigger were both stabled at the Cameron’s ranch.
He lifted you down from the saddle, his grip firm on your wrists before you could bolt. It only took a second for him to realize the urgency in your voice as you spoke, trying to talk to John B., who was already taking Juliet and Trigger’s reins. “She gets nervous when she’s in new places. She doesn’t like to be rushed,” Rafe overheard, catching the panic in your tone.
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with her,” John B. assured her although Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight.
“Come on,” Rafe pulled your arm, “We’re leaving.”
Your small hands grabbed where he’d wrapped his hands around your arm. You dug your boots into the gravel in front of the house, “Wait, I don’t have everything. I-I need to grab some things,” Rafe’s gripped only tightened as his irritation grew.
“You should’ve thought about that before you made me chase after you,” He took one more look at your teary-face before he snapped. Taking you home should’ve taken thirty minutes, not four hours. Without warning, he scooped you up over his shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasp you let out.
Your legs kicked in the air, “Hey! Please put me down!” Rafe didn’t spare your house on John B. a second glance as he trudged over to his dark, blue truck. Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!”
“Scream all the way there for all I fucking care,” He muttered under his breath, his voice cold as he finally reached the truck and tossed you into the passenger seat.
Rafe sped off moments after he pressed start engine on the vehicle. You went quiet and he hoped to be alone with his thoughts, soothed by the soft pitter patter of rain on his windshield. Fifteen minutes down the road, he heard your breath hitch. He looked over to see you were staring straight head, eyes wide and wet with tears. Smudged mascara beneath your eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and you clutched your hands tightly in your lap. Your lips were shaking, moving as if you were whispering something to yourself.
Your legs began to jitter, restless, and Rafe looked away. He managed to tune out your obvious panic for nearly an entire minute. He had a rare feeling. One he didn’t fully understanding. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to reach out, to try and comfort you. He thought about what Wheezie might think if this was the disheveled state he brought his future wife to meet her in. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was only going to get worse as the reality of your situation set in.
“Hey,” He spoke without that sharp edge, channeling a voice he might use with his youngest sister, “I didn’t mean you’d never get your things. We can come back, when you’re more settled …And I’ll send someone to get all your keepsakes. Okay?”
“Okay, okay, okay,” You repeated though your voice sounded empty, “Okay.”
He thought those would be the magic words but you hadn’t even turned to look at him. You were doing the same thing, shaking like a leaf, barely taking in enough breath, “Fuck,” Rafe cursed. He pulled over to the side of the road with a sharp jerk, the gravel crunching under the tires as the truck slowed to a stop. Without thinking, he shifted into park and turned to you.
Rafe needed to be more deliberate in his actions. He had eyes on him, his entire immediate family, and he wouldn’t have them thinking he couldn’t handle you.
He tried to calm you, squeezed your hand, told you to breathe over and over again. Nothing. You were spiraling, letting your thoughts consume you. Rafe had been too rough. It was all too much too fast for you. He wanted to mold you, not break you.
He leaned in, taking your face in his hands, and pressing his lips to yours. You went frantic but he only deepened the kiss. He held your hand and slowly felt your tension lesson. He entwined his fingers in yours and slowly felt you move your own lips against his. You tasted like cherries, dark red, and perfectly ripe. His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly, urging you to focus, to let go of the panic.
He pulled away only when you stopped your heaving.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. Breathe with me.”
He waited for you to come back to him, cradling you there. You had no one left, Rafe realized in that moment, the truth settling heavily in his chest. And maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.
No, taking care of you wasn’t just an obligation, it was an important responsibility. One he’d shoulder completely. Whether you liked it or not, Rafe would make sure of it.
Rafe Cameron tasted like whiskey, with a faint hint of mint that lingered now even as you stood in the foyer of your new home, Tannyhill Ranch. The white house was sprawling and pristine, situated amidst of sea of green fields. Windows sparkled even in the storm that was coming down, and although the roof’s shingles were weathered, it was hard to believe the property had been there for more than a century.
Workers, chefs and maids, bustled by but no one spared you or Rafe a glance despite the dry tears on your face and disheveled appearance.
The interior was grand, the hardwoods polished until they shined, and the ceilings were higher than the ones at church. Everything screamed old money. You felt a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the grand entrance hall and then up one side of a grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, serious faces, Camerons and previous owners of the estate.
Their eyes watched you, “Rafe, where are we going?” You asked him quietly.
“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.”
Rafe led you down the upstairs hallway, stopping at one of at least six bedroom doors, and pushing it open. The room was breathtaking, a four-poster bed draaped in white linens, oak furniture, blue-white toile patterns, and large windows that overlooked the property. It was beautiful, yes, but none of this belonged to you.
Your fingers absentmidnely traced the fabric of the bed’s comforter before you got a grip, turning around to say something in protest, “Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe interrupted, hands tucking into the front of jeans as if to give off a non-chalant appearance. The position emphasized the silvery belt buckle that sat on the middle of his waist.
“I don’t want to live here,” You spoke softly, your voice still weak from all the crying.
“I know,” Rafe continued, sounding exactly like his father, “Your father did though. You still love your Daddy, don’t you?”
Rafe’s words made you think. Really think. Of course you loved your father. He was a smart man and he always did right by you and your Mother. However, deep down, this all still felt wrong. You stood there, caught between the beauty of the room and the unease of what you felt.
You nodded, “But–”
“But this is what he wanted, darlin’,” Rafe spoke in a way that carried a sense of finality. Rafe stepped closer and suddenly his body was a brick wall keeping you from leaving the room. His lips pulled into a smirk and he leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath fanning over your cheeks. Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?”
“Yes,” You answered too honestly for your own good.
“Now you’ll do what I say. That’s how it works. A young lady belongs to her father, and one day, after she grows up, she belongs to her husband,” He straightened up and you blinked your big eyes up at him. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to his lips, “You’ll thank me, one day.”
Gently, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it even higher. You held your head exactly in the place he placed it, making something flicker in Rafe’s eyes. A heat bloomed in your core. You could only think about that kiss, your first one, despite the fact that he was one of the men completely ruining your life.
“You ever seen someone break a wild horse?”
His question caught you off guard, and your brows furrowed slightly as you searched his face for meaning. The smirk on his lips deepened, and his hand dropped from your chin.
“Takes patience. Takes strength. Takes knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. But eventually, the horse figures out who’s in charge.” His blue eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place, ”Out on the ranch, when we get a wild one. It’s my favorite thing to do. Watch em’ go from fighting you to starting to trust you. Really, there’s no point in fighting. The one’s who don’t submit, we don’t keep em’ around. They’re dangerous.”
“Oh,” You managed to say, shifting uncomfortably, “That sounds … hard.”
Rafe chuckled in response, “Hard? Yeah, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“You want me to kiss you again. I can tell.”
His words sent you stammering immediately, “No!”
“Tell you what,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, ignoring your denial as if it hadn’t even registered. “If you settle in, get all dolled up for dinner…” His voice dripped with false generosity. “I’ll give you another one.”
You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.
Ward finds Rafe and JJ fucking Sarah's boyfriend. The condition he sets for not telling her? Joining in, obviously.
we're all good people here
⫘⫘⫘ ward cameron x male reader
⫘⫘⫘ smut
⫘⫘⫘ content warnings: explicit content, age gap (ward is in his 40s obv, reader in their 20s), cheating, rough and unprotected p in a, dirty talk, daddy kink
the room stilled when the door opened to reveal your compromised position: rafe cameron sheathed fully inside your mouth, and jj maybank mid-thrust into your asshole.
ward cameron gripped the door handle, pure shock frozen in his face. rafe slowly pulled out his salty cock from your mouth, letting you look down the mattress and hide your face between your arms. the blood rushes and pounds in your ears.
you knew what kind of man ward cameron was and what he was capable of when it came to his family. and there you were, sarah's known boyfriend, being fucked by his brother and friend. hurting his daughter because you were too weak to resist the desire of being taken by two handsome and muscular men.
heavy footsteps close in on you. jj pulls out your ass without a word, and you brace yourself for what's about to come next. silence lines the room thick, and all you could feel is the frantic shaking of your heart against its cage. "leave us." ward orders with the same authoritative voice he uses whenever you and sarah hung out at the mansion.
you hate that jj even found the audacity to say "yes sir" so carelessly before the door closed. ward bends down to your level, his breath close to your ears. imprinting in your mind that you're alone in a room with him in his mansion, and anything he says goes.
"i know about your little arrangement with my daughter," he begins. "pretending to date her so that topper thornton will stop bothering her. it was so obvious since you seemed more interested in his brother and well.. me." ward's hand travels to your naked spine, tracing the path down to where your cheeks start.
"be glad there's no actual damage done to sarah. aside from the fact that she has to deal with her friend being an absolute slut." ward curls his finger into the incline, making you moan in response. "but we could always not tell her. for a price."
"w-what do you want in exchange, mr. cameron?" you ask, still reeling from the loss of sensations replaced by chills brought by the older man.
ward grabs your jaw tight, making you meet his deep blue eyes. "you." he pins you on your back down the mattress before leaning down to claim your lips. his tongue is immediately everywhere, stealing away your breath while mapping out the corners of your mouth. his rough hands are immediately everywhere— your bare thighs, down your scrotum, gripping your arms.
ward pulls off you briefly, stripping off his own clothes before kicking your legs apart. your hand flies up to touch his hair-riddled chest briefly. "daddy..." the words roll of your tongue before you could stop them.
he smirks upon hearing you and seeing heat flush your cheeks. "yeah i'm your daddy, but don't go around saying that. okay, babyboy?" he pushes you down again with a callous finger, pulling you closer to him by the ankles.
the tip of his hard cock immediately pressed against your gaping hole, still sensitive and burning from jj's wild fucking. "please be gentle, daddy."
"hm i've been fantasizing about you for a long time now. i plan to do the exact opposite." ward whispers hotly against your lips before breaching in with one hard thrust. you grip the sheets as a moan escapes you, the feeling of being filled so familiar yet so different at the same time.
ward began moving in full, earnest thrusts that knocked your body further into the bed. one hand gripped both your bruising wrists while another wrapped around your own stiff dick. he met each powerful snap of his hips with a stroke down your length.
"ward!" you yelled out. you feel all the heat rush down your legs, they're left suspended in the air as ward's movements bounced the both of you on the bed. "f—fuck, so good— i've never taken someone as old as you before—
"yeah? well you're into it, aren't you? giving me those shy eyes whenever you were here in my home pretending to be sarah's boyfriend." ward growls, his thrusts gaining a harder and faster pace. the bed groaned against the both of you, and you feel him press against your prostate before drawing back again. "you're practically asking for it."
"mhm yes!" your hands travel to scratch ward's back, surely leaving red lines and imprints on his body. "give it to me, daddy. i need you."
"then cum for me. and i'll fill up this ass too." ward's hand finally settles on your hip to grip your waist down. three more pounds and you both hit your highs: your cum splatters all over your stomach and ward's hand while ward spreads his spunk in your channel. warm and cozy, like it belonged there.
minutes later of breathlessness and exhaustion wanning the both of you down, ward pulls out with a wet squelch and collapses beside you. he begins tracing random circles on your stomach coated in cum.
"consider your secret taken to the grave, pretty boy." ward whispers. "we're all good people here, after all."
i want ward to eat me out then bend/fold my legs to my head pounding my pussy then switch me to doggy fucking me even more deeper while rafe is tied to a cuck chair
the room is dimly lit, the air thick with tension and the scent of arousal. ward’s kneeling between your thighs, his strong hands gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to his mouth. his tongue dives in without hesitation, lapping at your dripping pussy with a hunger that makes your toes curl. he’s relentless, sucking on your clit hard enough to make you gasp, then dragging his tongue down to tease your entrance, tasting every bit of you. your fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer as your hips grind against his face, slickness coating his chin. he groans against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your core, and you can feel yourself unraveling already, thighs trembling as he devours you like a man starved.
“fuck, ward,” you moan, voice shaky, and he doesn’t let up, his tongue plunges inside you, curling and flicking, while his nose presses against your clit, driving you wild. your orgasm hits hard, a wave of heat crashing over you as you clench around nothing, soaking his mouth with your release. he pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, lips glistening, before grabbing your legs and yanking them up.
“hold still,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. He bends your knees toward your chest, folding you in half until your ankles are damn near by your ears. the stretch burns in the best way, leaving you exposed and vulnerable as he lines himself up. his cock’s thick and throbbing, the tip already leaking as he rubs it against your soaked entrance. then he slams into you, no warning, no mercy—just a deep, brutal thrust that fills you completely. you cry out, the angle letting him hit spots so deep it’s almost too much, his hips snapping against yours with a force that makes your whole body shake. he’s pounding you relentlessly, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, your pussy clenching around him as he drives you toward another edge.
across the room, rafe’s tied to a chair, ropes biting into his wrists and ankles, his cock straining against his pants as he watches. his jaw’s tight, eyes dark with a mix of fury and helpless arousal, unable to do anything but stare as ward fucks you senseless. “enjoying the show, son?” ward taunts, not even breaking rhythm, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you folded as he rams into you harder. rafe’s chest heaves, a low groan slipping out despite himself, his erection painfully obvious.
ward pulls out abruptly, leaving you whimpering at the sudden emptiness, but he’s not done. “on your knees,” he orders, voice commanding. you scramble to obey, ass up, face down, and he’s behind you in an instant. he grabs your hips, yanking you back as he thrusts into you again, deeper than before, the angle making you scream into the sheets. doggy’s his domain now—he’s fucking you like an animal, each thrust stretching you, hitting your cervix with a delicious sting. his balls slap against your clit with every brutal stroke, and you’re a moaning, dripping mess, pussy gripping him tight as he takes what he wants. “look at him,” ward snarls, fisting your hair to lift your head. “look at rafe while i ruin you.”
your eyes lock with rafe’s, his face flushed, lips parted as he pants, completely at your mercy—or ward’s. ward’s pace picks up, impossibly deeper, and you shatter again, cumming so hard you see stars, your walls pulsing around his cock. he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release until he finally spills inside you, hot and thick, groaning your name.
