bunnycvnts

[bunnycvnts]

is it that sweet? (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist | a/n i've had no motivation to write lately but this randomly popped into my head the other day and suddenly my brain was like okay let's roll!! let's do this!! let's jump in!! so idk what that says about the current state of my subconscious. anyway this is filth! pls read the warnings! love u. summary: you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right? rating: 18+ explicit warnings: pervy!joel, age gap, voyeurism, coercion, objectification, sneaky picture taking, nude photos, paying for sexual favors, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy pronouns up the fuckin wazoo, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex, standing sex, creampie word count: 8.4k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

He's been watching you for about an hour. You'd sussed him out almost immediately after settling onto your beach towel and digging into your bag for your sunscreen, mildly aware of the shape of him in your peripheral vision. He's old, definitely in his late fifties, but certainly not the most unattractive man who could be eyeing you. You're used to it by now anyway, almost feed into the way men seem to gawk at you sometimes now that you've finally thrown caution to the wind and stopped giving a fuck about your beach body. You used to be self conscious about your curves, your tummy, your thighs - you decided this summer that it had to stop.

And you're glad you did. Because now he's staring at you, this unnamed, completely anonymous middle aged man only a few feet away. And it feels fucking good.

Should it feel good? Probably not. Should you tell him to buzz off and leave you alone? Take a picture, it'll last longer, something like that? Probably. But will you? No.

You like feeling his eyes on you.

Older men like you, you've noticed. They stare. They stare more than men your own age - boys, really. Twenty somethings who try to play it cool and more often than not come across as disinterested in their interest. They're cowardly, obnoxious. And you suppose some older ones are too, especially the ones with wives - they want you to be impressed by them, ooh and awe over their high paying jobs and big mansions, their fancy cars that they think make up for their tiny dicks.

But every now and then you'll come across one like this. You can read him like a book, peering at him from over your sunglasses every so often as he lounges behind a vibrant blue umbrella. His eyes caress your bare shoulders and chest, your exposed stomach, your soft thighs. They linger on the places they shouldn't and it makes you tingle. He's appreciating what he sees, basking in it, taking his time.

You could be content just lying here and letting him look. He is handsome after all, greying curls and soft scruff flecked with white, golden skin that almost glows underneath the sun. His legs stretch out over his own towel, long and lean and strong. He's got a soft looking belly, hanging out a little bit over his trunks, and now your eyes linger for a little longer than they should.

But you won't say anything. If he wants to talk to you, he has every opportunity to. You're not going anywhere for at least another hour, not until the sun starts setting and it's time to head back to your friend's vacation home. You've only been in California for a short period of time, but it's like it's somehow molded you into a different person - a more confident, sexier version of yourself that's been dying to get out for years. A version of you who lets this old man stare and get his fill as you smirk and turn over on your towel, arching your ass up into the air.

Oh, he likes that. You can tell because of the way his jaw clenches, neck tightening as his eyes fall to the globes of your cheeks. With a barely there smirk, you arch a little more, stretching and flexing and letting him take in the way your bikini bottoms barely contain them. Your breasts hang low onto your towel, practically overflowing from their own containment, and you have to admit - you're getting a little wet posing for him like this.

He licks his lips, eyes flickering downward again to something closer to him, something in his hand. You crane your neck a little bit to peer around the blue umbrella, and your breath hitches.

He's taking pictures of you.

It's obvious now, should have been obvious this whole time, really. Only one of his hands has really been visible, the other settled low against his side behind the umbrella. Now you can see that he's got his phone angled toward you, the camera peeking slyly out from behind the blue nylon as he repeatedly taps his screen with his thumb. To test him a little further, make sure you're really seeing what you think you're seeing, you push down into the sand with your hands and rise up a little bit on the towel, almost into a lazy downward facing dog. Your tits jiggle below you, threatening to escape, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as the man adjusts the camera to get a better angle. His thumb and forefinger glide across the screen, undeniably - and unashamedly - zooming in.

You're definitely wet now. You know you shouldn't be. You know this has probably gone too far and you should get up and leave, potentially tell someone about the creep on the beach taking photos of women in bikinis.

Instead, you make eye contact with him, settling back down onto your towel with your ass still perched a little in the air. He seems to freeze, eyebrows going up in the realization that he's been caught. In response, you blink slowly at him, pout a little bit as if to say, Really? You arch your back a little more and shimmy your hips, tilting your head as you continue to gaze over at him, eyes going a little hooded.

Come fuck me, you're almost saying, even though you know there's no way in hell you're gonna let him. It's just funny to watch him squirm, phone gripped tight in his hand as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. You arch a little more and then grind your hips into your towel, flattening yourself against it, holding his gaze. You rest your head and smile at him teasingly.

He's getting up and shuffling toward you in no time at all.

"Hi, darlin'," are the first words out of his mouth when he reaches you, and you certainly did not expect a Southern accent to fall from those plush lips. He's gorgeous really, now that you can see him up close - wide shoulders and big arms that strain against his white shirt, strong chest covered in little freckles, chocolate brown eyes that shimmer in the sunlight.

"Hi," you say with a smile, blinking up at him.

"I'm sure you saw what I was doin'," he seems a little embarrassed, voice apologetic as he scratches the back of his neck, "I know I shoulda asked, but you seemed so relaxed, I didn't wanna disturb you."

Bullshit, you only came over because I smiled at you. Any other reaction and you'd have run for the hills.

"I'm Joel," he reaches his hand down for you to take. For some reason, you shake it without hesitation. "I'm actually a photographer, believe it or not."

Huh. You raise an eyebrow at the words, doubt immediately swimming in your mind as you assess him.

"If you're a photographer, where's your camera?"

He chuckles, "Back at my hotel. I just came out here to relax, wasn't plannin' on takin' any photos. But then I saw you, and, well..." he smiles at you sheepishly, "You're just so pretty, darlin'. Never seen somebody like you before."

The words are not special. They're nothing you haven't already heard, nothing he hasn't probably already used on countless other women. And yet... you smile back at him, cheeks warming a little at the way the compliment sounds coming out of his mouth in particular, all Southern and sweet. "Thank you."

His eyes suddenly leave yours to flicker back toward your body again, scanning the length of you. As if on instinct, almost to show off, you tighten the muscles in your ass cheeks and then release, letting them jiggle a little bit under your swimsuit. He swallows tightly.

"Would you be interested in posin' for me, sweetheart? There's a little spot down the beach, outta sight. Still public though, of course. I wouldn't ask you to go anywhere unsafe," his eyes linger on your ass for a few more seconds before he's meeting your gaze again, soft and sincere, "I'd love to get some pictures of you in that bikini, and some with it off too, if you're comfortable with that."

Oh, he's fucking brave. You can feel disgust brewing in the pit of your stomach, a scowl beginning to dawn on your face. This is where you should draw the line. This is where you should get up and leave, tell him to go to hell, tell him he's a pervert and-

"I'll pay whatever you think is fair," he continues, "How's three hundred as a starting point?"

On second thought...

"Beautiful, baby," he's telling you softly, "You're so pretty like that."

You hum in contentment, laying in the sand with a little smile tugging at your lips as Joel maneuvers around you with his phone, snapping pic after pic as you peer up at him through rays of sun. You're a little ways down the beach now, in a sparser area behind some rocks. He was right about it still being public - if something happened, you know you could raise your voice the tiniest bit and be heard immediately by people on the other side. Somehow though, despite his forwardness and slightly perverted habits, you trust that he isn't going to force anything on you.

You've already got three hundred dollars in your purse. He'd given it to you before you'd even gotten up from your initial spot on the beach, placed it in your hand with a grin as your eyes widened. You suppose you could've taken the money and run, but part of you wanted to play it out, test the limits, see what else he'd pay you for.

Which leads you here, laying sensually in the sand with the strings of your bikini dangling a little looser off your shoulders and hips, a little careless, a little more teasing. The poses so far have been pretty basic, and you've tried your best to emulate what you think a supermodel on the cover of Sports Illustrated would do. Based on Joel's responses - excited nods and gentle praises - you think you're doing a good job.

"Turn over now," he tells you with a playful grin, "Put that cute little ass in the air again for me."

It should be demeaning, the way he's talking to you. There's a lot about this situation that should be wrong, and yet you can't help but feel pride swell in your chest at his directions, his compliments. You do what he says, flipping over to dig your hands into the sand and arch your back, turning your head to eye the camera directly with a sultry little smile on your face.

"Perfect," he's murmuring, thumb tapping the screen like his life depends on it, "That's so perfect, honey." You listen to the fake little shutter sounds the phone makes, still wondering if he's even really a photographer. Would it even matter? Wouldn't you have still let him do this anyway?

With this new angle you can feel the loose strands of your bikini top starting to slip, unraveling at the back and trickling gently against your sides. You watch with what should be a worrying lack of urgency as it cascades down onto the sand below, leaving you topless.

He whistles low under his breath, "Well, would you look at that. The girls are out."

"That's an extra fifty," you say with a coy eyebrow raise, "Or else I cover them back up."

"Extra fifty, no problem" Joel echoes, "Can you shake your ass for me again, darlin'?"

You nod, tilting your head and peering back at him as you tighten and release your muscles with a giggle, basking in the way he stares at it, like it's a five course meal he's about to devour. You do it a few more times, arching your back a little more and spreading your thighs slightly to allow for more recoil, more jiggle. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and you grin.

"How much to take these off too?" he lowers the phone and peers at you with pleading eyes, brown and soft, "Huh? How much extra to show me this lil' peach, honey?"

You grimace, looking down at the sand and trying to calculate an appropriate cost in your brain. You bite your lip, "You know that's not the only thing that'll show."

"I know," he murmurs, eyes trailing downward again to eye your ass, still perched high and plump, "Your peach and your pussy then, how much?"

Fuck.

"I won't touch you," he promises softly, "You can just tug it down and show her to me, lemme see her up close, yeah?"

Her?

Her.

"Christ," you mumble under your breath. He's filthier than you thought, and not in a bad way - in a fucking hot way. "Another fifty," you decide, voice firm, "And... and I wanna see you put the money in my purse first. And no touching my... her."

"I can do that, sweetheart," he's already digging into his wallet and yanking out the money, opening your bag slightly to place it inside. It could be counterfeit for all you know; this whole thing really might be a completely worthless venture, and yet -

He watches as you reach backward to untie the strings of your bikini bottoms, doing it in one fell swoop and then spreading your thighs again, knees digging into the sand. You arch and press your face against your towel, feeling goosebumps rise all over your skin at the knowledge that he's staring at where you're now completely bare.

You hear him groan, a rough little sound that goes straight to your core, and a few little shutter sounds go off, "Now, that's a pretty little pussy you got there, baby."

Heat rises throughout your body, up through your chest and to your cheeks. You turn a little to look at him shyly, lashes fluttering when you see where his gaze has settled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, honey, she's so pretty," he breathes, "She's all wet. Leakin' for me, you see that?"

You can't see it of course, but you can feel it; feel the way you're dripping, knowing that he can see it, has a 1:1 view of the way you throb and drool for him. This random old man who about twenty minutes ago you'd never spoken to in your life.

"And your little clit is sayin' hi to me too, babygirl, can see her pokin' out." Fuck. You squirm a little in place as his camera continues to go off, legs spreading a little more unconsciously as you tilt your head downwards and close your eyes. Your clit twitches under his stare.

"Swollen little thing," he breathes, barely loud enough to hear, "Perfect pussy."

Jesus Christ.

"Roll over for me again, sweetheart," you hear him say quietly, "Show me all those pretty parts."

You don't know why, but you whine a little at his words. It's subconscious, a burning desire you can't describe as you slowly flip over and lazily lay back on your towel to show him your entire naked body. He stands over you with his brow furrowed in a gentle kind of way, eyes appraising you up and down like you're some kind of goddess. And fuck, he's kind of making you feel like one.

"Legs open a little bit, baby, that's it." You obey, spreading your legs and looking up at him with lidded eyes, lips parting a little. You bring your arms up to rest behind your head and he takes note of the way your tits bounce for him, shivering back and forth beneath his gaze. "You're perfect," he murmurs, "You're absolutely perfect."

"Stop," you say, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face, "M'not perfect."

"But you are, darlin'," he shakes his head, eyes full of wonder as he kneels down to get some closer pictures. You watch as he brings his phone down directly in front of your pussy, snaps a few close-ups of your puffy lips and swollen clit. "I'd love to kiss her, honey, if you'd let me."

"N-no," you say quickly, though your voice cracks, "No touching."

"I'll pay you extra," his eyes return to yours, locking your gazes, "You name it, baby. I'll pay anything to taste how sweet you are down here."

You look at him calculatingly, tilting your head. Anything?

"Two hundred," you practically whisper, "In the bag."

You're half expecting him to tell you that he's run out of money, that he couldn't possibly give you any more than the four hundred he's already blown on this. But he surprises you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his wallet and tug out the bills. It's like he has an endless supply, and you're beginning to wonder if maybe this is a hobby of his, something he prepares for, carries money around to be ready to spend on women like you. Maybe he's rich rich, has unlimited money to throw away, and this is just his weird perverted thing he does on the side of something else.

Maybe you should have asked for more.

But he's already kneeling back down into the sand and you're already opening your legs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them and lean his head forward to place his lips gently against your pussy. You watch with heavy lids as he kisses you so softly there, his mouth tender and inviting and deliciously scratchy from his scruff. Without really thinking about it, you reach down and run a hand through his curls, smiling a little fondly as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

"That feels nice," you breathe, watching as he continues to press incredibly slow and gentle kisses to your cunt in an almost respectful way, a reverent way.

"Good," he murmurs, lips vibrating against your core, "Want it to feel nice for you, baby."

You let out a soft moan the second his tongue breaches your folds, wet and warm. You watch as he closes his eyes and seems to get lost in it, tasting your pussy like it - or she, as he'd said - is some rare delicacy he's never indulged in before. He trails the tip of his tongue through the mess you've made, maneuvering your puffy lips and flicking it against your clit. Your hips buck and another moan slips out, quiet and pitiful.

"That's it," he murmurs against you with a little half smile, "So sweet for me, honey." He dives back in immediately and slowly plunges his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you a few times before carefully pulling back and opening his eyes to peer up at you again. God, those brown eyes are fucking sinful. He gives you one more smile and then reaches down to grab his phone.

"Gonna get some more pics of this messy girl, okay?" he breathes, and you're a little startled when his left hand is suddenly coming down to touch you there, two fingers carefully scissoring you open. You don't say anything, too horny to protest, too intrigued to see what he's going to do. "Gotta open her up a little," he tells you softly, answering your unspoken question, "Wanna take a little peek at what she's hidin' inside her, baby."

A little whimper falls from your throat again as his fingers scissor you wider, holding you open and baring your hole to his camera. You can feel your walls twitching and pulsing, contracting and leaking; you can only imagine what it looks like. Your eyes roll a little when his middle finger taps your clit, another gush of arousal flooding past your opening.

"Look at this lil' hole, huh?" he's murmuring, but your eyes are closing and your head is falling back onto the towel as he plays with you, "Oh, she's alllll messy for me down here, baby. And it's no wonder your clit came out to see me, she loves gettin' played with, don't she?"

Christ, he knows how to talk. His words send another helpless little sound past your lips, thighs trembling as he slowly caresses your clit with his finger, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure.

"Aw, you're all sticky here again, baby," he whispers and you whine, feeling your juices dribble down toward your ass, "Shh, I'll take care of it," and then he's leaning back in to lap at your folds, a little faster this time, more desperate, "Tastes so good, pretty girl. So sweet."

He suckles your clit into his mouth and you let out a breathless moan, brow furrowing as he suctions the swollen nub and lets one of his fingers fall to slip inside your entrance. You're so close you can feel it, coiled inside and ready to snap at any moment, his thick index plugging you deliciously as his tongue swirls. You tighten around it, thighs squeezing a little around his head, and then-

He's pulling away, removing his mouth and finger. Your eyes flutter open and you watch as he stands up with a little groan, older age apparent in the way he clutches at his back and exhales once he's upright. You want to tell him to get back down here, finish what he started, but part of you feels like it'd almost be letting him win, somehow. This perverted creep on a public beach that's somehow managed to lure you away and get you naked, take photos of your body and eat your pussy. He doesn't deserve to have you beg for him - even if you want to.

"Can you stand up for me now, honey?" he tilts his head, squinting against the sun and smiling like he didn't just ruin your orgasm.

On shaky legs, you manage to pull yourself up from the sand and stand before him in all your naked glory, legs crossing a little as you squeeze your thighs together. He smirks but doesn't say anything about it, instead angling his phone toward you again and snapping some full length photos. You immediately do your best to go back into Sports Illustrated mode, posing a little and trying to ignore the ache between your legs, the relentless throb of where his mouth just was.

"Squeeze your tits together for me," he tells you, voice a bit deeper, rougher, full of arousal, "Cup 'em a little, show me those cute lil' nipples."

You do as he says, biting your lip and showing the camera exactly what he wants to see. Your nipples are peaked and hard, begging to be teased and tugged, but you refuse to do it yourself - you're not giving him the satisfaction, not after what he just pulled. He takes a few up-close pictures, camera so close to them that you shiver with sensitivity, the smallest bit of air from his movements causing them to tighten even more.

"Those are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs softly, gaze trailing upwards to meet yours, "Can I give 'em a kiss too?" God, his eyes are so fucking soft and sincere, like fucking boba pearls. You wonder if anyone's ever been able to say no to him.

You swallow, keeping eye contact, "For another fifty, sure."

He chuckles at that, "You drive a hard bargain, darlin'."

"I know what I'm worth."

He smiles, nodding slowly, "That, you do." He pulls out his wallet and slips another bill into your bag, then shuffles toward you again. You try to keep your breathing calm when one of his hands comes up to cradle your bare back, pulls you in a little bit as he lowers his mouth to your right nipple. With hazy eyes, you watch as he presses the softest little kiss to it, then does the same to the left.

Part of you wants to pull back and say that's it, that's all you get, just to see what he does, give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he's wrapping his lips around the pebbled bud and suckling, your eyes going glassy, jaw dropping a little as your hands come up to hold his shoulders. Your pussy throbs at the sensation, thighs rubbing together again as he suctions just the right amount and swirls his tongue all over the hard peak. It's impossible not to let a quiet moan fall past your lips, something he returns with a little mmhmm around your nipple, a wordless I know.

It feels so good that you feel your guard going down even more than it already has, feel your head falling forward to rest against his. His greying hair is so soft, so warm from the sun. You blink slowly and inhale, cheek smooshing into his temple as he sucks and sucks and sucks, then turns his attention to the other one. Little whimpers are tumbling past your lips, your hands squeezing and caressing his shoulders as you feel yourself starting to drip down your inner thighs.

It's so fucking intimate, much more intimate than you anticipated. And when he finally pulls away and comes back up to peer into your eyes again, leaving your nipples puffy and a little sore, you betray yourself by leaning forward to kiss him softly, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth and returning the favor with a little suckle. You feel him smile against you, the hand on your back tightening as he brings his other one up to tangle in your hair. His lips are plush and wet - a little chapped from what he's just done to your nipples - and he tastes like pussy.

It's fucking heavenly.

"I wanna show you somethin', babygirl," he murmurs against you after a moment, and you nod a little too quickly, a little pathetically. You're starting to realize that you're losing the battle here, if there ever even was one.

He pulls back a little, eyes still soft. You watch as he reaches down to his swim trunks and unties them, heart suddenly in your throat as he slips his hand inside and comes out with an absolutely beautiful dick. It's long and thick, rounded and full at the tip with an extremely suckable looking mushroom head, as well as a prominent vein trailing up his shaft that makes your mouth water. You both stare at it for a few seconds without speaking, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.

"You wanna take some pictures with my cock, honey?" he asks you quietly, and you think he's probably looking at your face now, watching your expression, but you're still just staring at his dick.

"W-what?"

"Just a few, like...well..." he shuffles forward a bit and very gently presses the warmth of his cock against your bare stomach, letting the tip sit just above your belly button, "Like this."

Your brain is blank.

"That okay?"

His cock is so heavy.

"Darlin'?"

And warm.

He pushes some of your hair behind your ear, cradles your face in his big hand, "I know, honey," he murmurs, "You just gotta say okay."

Okay?

"O-okay," you finally whisper.

"Yeah?"

Yeah. You think it but don't say it, can't say it. You feel beyond overwhelmed, eyes still glued to where his throbbing tip is smooshed into your belly. You can't stop looking at it, ogling it, awed by its impressiveness and girth, the way it leaks a little onto your skin. You've never seen a dick this pretty before. You almost forget that you're standing there without any clothes on, barely aware of the shutter sound as he snaps multiple pictures on his phone.

"Good girl," he murmurs softly, "That's a good girl, just look at it."

Every few seconds he repositions a little, pulling you in closer to capture the way his cock stands at attention between your bodies. Precum gurgles from the tip and makes a sticky mess in his happy trail, dribbling down onto your skin. Without thinking about it at all, completely unaware of even doing it, your arms are suddenly around his waist, holding him close with your gaze still locked onto his cock.

"Yeah, that's for you, baby," he tells you softly, grinding his hips a little bit against yours and essentially fucking his cock against your stomach, "You did that to me."

It's only when he suddenly takes a small step back, holds the base and angles it downward to gently prod the sticky head against your pussy lips, that you finally come to your senses.

"Wait," you gasp out, yanking yourself back from him and shaking your head, "W-wait a second."

"M'sorry," he says quickly, brow furrowing as he puts his hands up. His cock hangs from his trunks almost comically, bobbing up and down as he takes a step back, "Shoulda asked first."

"Y-yeah, you should've," your voice cracks, heat flooding your face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just then, that was too far." Why the fuck are you apologizing to him?

"S'not too far," his words are gentle, alluring, "We're just havin' fun, aren't we honey? You were havin' fun, got lost in it. It's okay."

You take a breath, staring at him as you try to get your bearings. Were you having fun? Is this fun? What the fuck are you even doing right now? Your thoughts are cloudy, hazed with arousal and attraction to this complete stranger in front of you. Are you really gonna let this continue? Is it really worth it? Your gaze falls back to his cock and the question is almost answered for you.

"What am I doing?" you ask aloud, a breathless little laugh escaping your lips.

"You're just havin' fun with a new friend, s'all it is."

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble, "Is that what you are? My friend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be, darlin'," his mouth turns up at the corners, eyes sparkling, "I sure would like to be your friend."

He peers at you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. Your mouth opens a few times but no words come out, your thoughts scrambled as you try to make heads or tails of this situation. You're suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're still completely naked, and you quickly peek your head over the rock formation to make sure there's nobody nearby - there isn't.

Why are you checking?

"C'mere," Joel finally says, and you turn back to look at him with your lip between your teeth. He's standing there with his arms open a bit, cock still heavy between his legs. By all accounts, a fucking perv. And yet...

And yet.

Fuck it.

You're back in his embrace in no time, hooking your head over his shoulder and allowing his cock to press warmly into your skin again. You close your eyes and sigh as he brings one of his hands downward to squeeze your ass.

You know what he's going to ask before he even says it.

"Can I put it inside you, darlin'?" he murmurs softly, pleadingly, "Just to get a pic of your pussy all full?"

You don't say anything.

"Won't take more than a minute," he urges, "I promise, baby. Just wanna see it stretched around my cock. Don't you wanna see that, pretty girl? I'll pay extra, whatever you want."

More silence.

"I know you wanna see it," he's relentless, his other hand coming down to squeeze your other cheek and pull you impossibly closer, "You wanna feel that, don't you, baby? Big cock fillin' you up before you go?" His middle finger slides between your cheeks and settles at your pussy, slowly teasing your entrance, "Don't gotta do anything at all, just gotta stand here, we'll do it standin' honey."

"Standing?" you ask softly, pulling back to look at him with intrigue, and your response suddenly has him grinning from ear to ear as he slowly inserts his finger. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as he fills you with it.

"Standin'," he repeats, "Just like this, baby, don't gotta do anything 'cept open your legs a little for me. You can do that, can't you?" The hand on your ass comes up to hold your chin; he pinches it gently between his finger and thumb and gives you another soft look as he starts to fuck you in earnest, "I know you can, 'cause you're a good girl, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you breathe, arms tightening around his body.

"Yeah," he adds a second finger, smile faltering into a sympathetic pout when you let out another soft moan, "And you want that cock, don't you? I can see it all over your face, honey. Don't gotta pretend."

"I do," you whisper with a nod, swallowing thickly and trembling in his arms, "I want it, I do."

"So..." he's waiting for you to say the words, to tell him to go ahead and put it in, do what he wants, let him take control. His fingers are relentless inside of you now, plunging in and out at a speed you know he's purposely using to distract you, cloud your decision making.

Which is why his eyebrows go up in surprise when you're suddenly reaching down to grab tightly to his wrist, yanking his fingers out of your pussy in one swift pull.

"Three hundred," you state, "Take it or leave it."

To your surprise, his face alights with a gigantic smile, a deep laugh tumbling past his lips as he nods and digs his hand into his pocket, seeking his wallet one more time, "Yes, m'aam," he grins, "I'll take it."

You've never had sex standing up before. Not like this, face to face and completely upright with your feet planted on the ground. It's a little awkward at first, Joel having to crouch a little to align his hips with yours, one hand gripping your waist while the other grips his phone. God, this fucking phone. You're pretty sure you'll never wanna see a phone case with this ugly shade of cerulean blue again, let alone hear those obnoxious shutter sounds.

Your annoyance is quickly overpowered by the sensation of the warm head of Joel's cock pressing gently to your pussy. You look down to watch, lip between your teeth again as Joel snaps image after image of the way his tip crowds your outer lips, pushes them apart. You have to admit, it's certainly a sight to behold.

"Yeah, look at her open for me, baby," he's murmuring, thumbing the base as he slowly rubs his cockhead back and forth through your folds, "Bloomin' like a little flower."

The top of your head rests against his shoulder, face angled down to watch what he's doing. A tiny whimper falls from your lips when he very slowly eases the head of his cock inside of you, the stretch barely noticeable with how wet you are. He releases your hip to reach down and open your pussy lips with his thumb and forefinger, exposing where you're joined.

"Tell her to smile for the camera, babygirl," he whispers, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can't help but feel a gush of arousal at his words, soaking his cock even more, "Good, that's good."

He feeds his cock to you slowly, making sure to take as many pictures as he can. Little whines and squeaks erupt from your throat and your hands claw at his back, fingers tangling in the white crocheted material as he fills you up. It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that he suddenly tugs his trunks down a little more to expose his balls, heavy and round and full. You stare at them with a longing in your eyes you can't describe, lower lip trembling as you watch them bounce and settle against where you're joined.

"There you go," he murmurs, snapping one last picture before tossing his phone into the sand and bringing his hands up to cradle your back, pulling you close, "All done, baby, that's it."

Your toes curl in the sand as you embrace the feeling of being so full of him, his tip pulsing delicately inside the deepest parts of you. A distant thought in your brain wonders why he just threw his phone on the ground, but it doesn't seem to matter when you feel like this, so full and wet and warm, lost in a hazy glow. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out quiet little whimpers as he pulls you in tighter. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, seemingly reveling in the moment too as you stand there listening to the ocean waves, impaled on a stranger's cock.

"How's that feel, honey?" he asks you softly, thumbs tracing shapes along your bare back, "Hm? Feel good?" You don't answer, just nuzzle your face against his skin and let out another soft whine, hands clamoring underneath his shirt to grip his back. He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, baby."

You both stand there for what feels like forever, until you finally have enough sense to pull away from his shoulder and get a look at his face. He's watching you fondly, brow furrowed, eyes still incredibly soft and inviting. He really is gorgeous. Pervy, but gorgeous.

"You dropped your phone," you mumble, words faint and slightly slurred.

"Don't need it anymore," he murmurs, "Got my pictures."

"Then why are you still inside me?" you ask softly, eyelashes fluttering, "If you're done?"

He shrugs, smiling, "'Cause it feels good, don't it?"

You stare at him for a few seconds but end up nodding regardless, turning your face a little to peer over at the ocean, "It does," you admit, "Feels really good."

"Mmhmm," he kisses the top of your head again, then your temple, stroking his fingers through your hair. The way he touches you is reverent, delicate, like you're something fragile he needs to keep safe. It's not what you'd expected, that's for sure. But something you're not as sure about is what happens now, where you both go from here.

It doesn't take long for him to decide.

You feel his thumb on your clit, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his presence. You peer at him through bleary eyes, a dazed little smile curving your lips as he carefully rotates the swollen nub. His belly caresses yours, warm and soft, and you smile even wider.

"Feel good?" he asks you again - tender, kind.

"Yeah," you whisper.

The hand on your back comes up to cradle your hair, pulling you in close again and allowing you to rest your head against his smooth chest. You moan as his thumb picks up speed, the sound muffled by his tan skin.

"You want me to make you come, honey?" he murmurs, fingers brushing carefully through your hair, "You wanna come all over that big cock inside you?"

"Yeah," you repeat, a little broken this time, "W-wanna come."

"You've been so fuckin' good for me, you know that?" he breathes, barely a whisper, brow furrowed as he continues to rub your clit, "Posin' all pretty, showin' me that soft little pussy, lettin' me taste her," he gives a low whistle, shaking his head, "And now she's all full, huh? She full?"

You nod, eyes rolling a little, "Y-yeah." Apparently yeah is currently one of the only words in your vocabulary.

"She all messy for me?"

Again, you nod, expression blissful as you let out a moan, "Yes, Joel," you whimper, and you're pretty sure it's the first time you've said his name this whole time. It's like you've been trying to be disconnected from it, from him, and now suddenly he's everywhere; inside you, in front of you, above you - there's no escaping him. And you don't want to escape - what you want is him. Badly. Desperately.

He seems to realize this at the exact same time you do, the moment he hears his name fall from your lips. Which is why you're not surprised in the slightest by his next words.

"What if I wanted a pic of my cum leakin' outta this little pussy?" he whispers, mouth suddenly directly next to your ear, sending insane amounts of pleasurable tingles throughout your whole body, "Huh? How much would that cost? Tell me."

"You can't," you mumble, lightheaded, but you're lying to yourself, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving you, the movement of his thumb and the girth of his cock.

"Only take a few seconds, honey, m'already close," as he speaks, you feel his hips slowly begin to buck, cock pulling from you for only a moment before easing back in, making you shudder, "You don't gotta do nothin', 'cept show me how she drools when she's full. You can do that, can't you baby?"

"Joel," you whine again, eyes shut tight as you dig your toes into the sand, holding tight to his back as he slowly starts to fuck up into you. He's so big, so thick, plugging you full and then leaving you again, slow and warm. You can only imagine how it would feel to have him burst inside of you, to fill you to the brim.

"I wanna see her drool, honey," he murmurs, voice desperate again, full of arousal, "Wanna see her push it out."

"Fuck," you moan, high and whiney as you suddenly grip both sides of his face in your hands to peer directly into his eyes, "A thousand," you whimper, your hands clawing at his scruff as his hips pick up speed, as his hands fall to your waist and hold tightly as he starts to pound up into you, "A thousand and you can come in my pussy."

He presses his forehead against yours, lets out a guttural sound and then hisses, "Deal."

And for some reason, you believe him.

Getting pounded while standing upright is a fucking trip. His nails dig into the pebbled flesh of your hips, knees bending and unbending as his cock fucks up into you relentlessly without stopping or slowing. Your hands are still holding his face, eyes locked with his as your mouth pops open in a silent scream, thumbs digging into the apples of his cheeks. Holy fucking shit.

"I know, I know, I know," he's groaning, voice wild and unhinged, groans vibrating in his chest, "Fuckin' take it, s'what you were made for, honey. Knew it the second I saw you, knew you were gonna go wild on that dick."

"Please," you moan out, tears pricking in your eyes, the sensations almost too much to bear, "Please, please." You don't even know what you're begging for, thoughts muddled as you release his face and wind your arms around his neck, "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, don't stop, please."

"I got you, honey, I got you," you feel his thumb return to your clit as he speaks, the sounds of your skin slapping together almost rivalling the sound of the ocean waves, "You gonna come, pretty girl? Huh? You gonna cream on my cock?"

"Yes," you practically squeal, and before you can really process what you're doing you're suddenly jumping up from the sand to wrap your legs around Joel's waist, ankles tangling together behind his back. He has no issue shifting positions, his arm cradling you and holding you in the air while his thumb continues to ravage your clit. You feel it building in your stomach, tightening more and more with the insistent pressure of his thumb and the continuous thrusts of his dick hitting your cervix over and over.

"Ohh, I feel her, baby," he groans in your ear, "Sloppy little cunt wants to make another mess, doesn't she?" And that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter around Joel's body as you moan and whine and cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and shaking in his arms. It's like having the wind knocked out of you, arguably one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sob into his neck.

"Joel," you whimper, pussy pulsing repeatedly around his dick through the aftershocks, "Joel, come inside her, please."

"Oh, fuck."

You feel it then, the twitch of his cock and the warm ropes of his release pumping into you. You sigh almost dreamily, burying your face in his shoulder and listening as he groans, feeling the way his fingertips dig into the soft plush of your ass. It's steady - there's so much more than you thought there'd be, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper again, murmuring his name one more time as he empties himself.

You stay like that for a moment, the ocean loud in your ears, all other sounds seemingly drowned out by the hiss of sea against rock and sand. Eventually, he carries you a few steps to your towel, your ears ringing and his body trembling a little as he carefully lowers you down. You let go of him a bit reluctantly, a pout on your lips as he lays you out and then slowly pulls himself from you with a wet squelch.

"Good girl," he's murmuring - you realize he's been saying it the whole time - "Good girl, that's it, open your legs."

There's no hesitance at all anymore, not after that. You open your legs wide with abandon and sit up on your hands, watching with heavy lids as he grabs his phone from where he'd discarded it, bringing it down to your leaking pussy.

"Look at that," he breathes, awestruck, and your eyes trail downward to see what he sees. You feel heat return to your cheeks when you see the way his creamy white release is slowly beginning to dribble out of you and onto the towel.

"Wow, that's a lot," you whisper with a faint little giggle, eyes coming back up to look at his face as he watches it drip. You're not sure he hears you, intensely focused on where you're swollen and leaking, but you don't mind. You push back lazily on your hands and smile fondly at him as he takes his precious photos. In the afterglow, you find that the shutter sounds aren't that annoying, not really.

"Open her up for me, baby," he tells you softly, "Spread her wide and push it out."

You sit up a little, feeling drowsy and dreamy as you reach down and pull yourself open with your hands. You apply a little pressure, closing your eyes in a daze and hearing the wet little sounds as you push his cum out of you and onto the towel. You hear him groan, hear the shutter sounds again, and you can't help but grin.

"Are they good?" you ask him, genuinely wondering, "Is she pretty?" As you speak you pull yourself a little wider, allow him to take one more picture as close inside as possible before he pulls it away.

He looks up from his handiwork with that familiar soft smile on his face again, brown eyes shimmering in the sun that's already beginning to set, "You're perfect," he tells you, "And don't argue with me, I just gave you almost two thousand dollars."

You snort, releasing yourself and falling backwards onto the towel to stare up at the sky. Your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping as you watch Joel in your periphery slipping his soft cock back into his trunks, as well as his phone.

"It's real money, right?" you ask, a little unsure.

"I promise it's real money," he says with a chuckle, walking over to stand over you, "D'you wanna come back to my hotel with me and get cleaned up? Maybe have some more fun?"

You bite your lip, "Would you pay me?"

"I'd pay you."

Admittedly, as reality begins to wash over you, the idea doesn't sound anywhere near as appealing as it might have an hour ago. With a little effort, you sit up again and reach for your bikini, half buried in the sand near your feet.

"Nah, I think I'm good."

Joel reaches his arm down and you take it, letting him help you to your feet. As you put your bikini back on, you watch with a little smile as he digs the rest of your money out of his wallet, slipping it into your purse like it's just second nature at this point - which, it basically is. He stands there then, a little awkwardly, like he's not sure what to say.

"Well, uh, thank you, darlin'," he finally says, taking a step back and nodding toward you with a kind expression, "Not many girls would have, um... not many would've done this. I'd offer you my number, but I get the feeling that's not what this is."

You wince, shaking your head, "Yeah, this, uh- this isn't gonna go anywhere, sorry. But it was fun."

He nods, "It was. And, I mean, those pictures aren't just gonna collect dust, I can tell you that much."

You laugh, walking forward a little to pick up your bag. You stop in front of him and, after hesitating for only a moment, lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a peck - a goodbye.

"Have a good rest of your summer," you tell him as you pull away, heat rising in your cheeks again as he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, "And uh- maybe try to be a little more covert with that camera."

This time it's his turn to blush, his cheeks tinging a dark shade of pink as he laughs and tosses you a wave, turning to begin walking away from you. He only makes it a few steps, and then-

"Hey, Joel?"

He turns on the spot, a hopeful look in his expression that makes you wonder, if only for a moment, that maybe you're making the wrong choice.

"You're not really a photographer, are you?"

His blush deepens, a look of embarrassment crossing his features, "No, I'm not. But after today, I just might try my hand at it."

[bunnycvnts]

ALL MINE

you had once thought rafe was bad at being a boyfriend. turns out, he was even worse at being an ex.

you couldn't pinpoint where it had all gone wrong in your relationship—mostly between days spent alone and nights wondering where he was and what he was doing, even who he was with. you felt constantly out of the loop, and though you tried to make it work for as long as you could, there was no denying that it wasn't working.

you thought you knew what you wanted, what you needed, when you told rafe the two of you needed to stop whatever this was. you could hardly call it a relationship anymore.

maybe some part of you felt happy when he tried to fight for you, when he wasn't letting you go that easily. but you had won in the end—thinking you were going to walk away scot-free and find some guy who would take you on dates and treat you right.

that had been two whole months ago—and you had tried. you'd been on three dates in that time, somehow each one worse than the last and never, ever leading to a second one. everything felt so forced and robotic—though you had never felt that way with rafe.

no, you and him had been electric from the start. that's why it was even harder to stop thinking about him, to push away every stray thought that crept into your mind in the middle of the night. you resist every urge to send a text or dial his number that you've memorized and are unable to forget.

if only someone would tell rafe to do the same. his contact in your phone—a simple r and nothing else—lights up your screen much too often for comfort. everytime you see it, your mind thinks about what it used to look like, his name spelled out with a blue heart and a photo of him that you had to take off his contact because staring at it for too long led you into temptation.

at first it had been fine. how are you? followed by one-word answers and then something that made your heart burn in your chest. good. gotta make sure you're ok.

you should have told him two months ago that how you're doing is no longer any of his concern—that this concern should have appeared when you were his girlfriend. instead you reply with a thank you and turn your phone off, because no matter how much you want yourself to hate rafe cameron, you never have and you never will.

the texts had recently been getting more frequent—something else that should have been alarming. instead you find yourself staring at your phone, biting your lip and wondering what rafe was doing right now that he stopped and thought of you.

it's terrible—it's akin to torture, the worst form. you slip down the rabbithole and start replying mere minutes after he's sent you a message—because you never keep rafe waiting. never have, never will.

the third date since the breakup is a worse than the other two put together, and it's your own fault, you should have never suggested the country club for a harmless lunch. your boyfriend—shit. your ex-boyfriend spots you from half a mile away, only waits for you to smile politely and step away to the bathroom before confronting the boy you're with.

when you get back, your date cuts lunch short, dodging out and staring back at someone with a touch too much fear in his eyes. you don't want to know what rafe said. you can barely get yourself to think about why he did it.

like always, you go home alone. there hasn't been anyone you've met since your breakup that you've liked enough to bring home, or rather, dared to bring home.

quarter to eleven on a saturday night. you should be at the party right now, the one that everyone on your side of the island is at, but you can't find the will to go. you'd gotten dressed up—hair and makeup perfect and pretty, just for a night in. a thought rushes through your mind—one you really wish had just stayed away.

you've done your hair how rafe likes, your makeup the way he always commented that looked nice. even the dress you'd picked out was one of his favorites, now perched across a chair, though you can distinctly remember the last time it had been dropped on the floor of rafe's bedroom.

and though you really, really shouldn't, when your phone buzzes with a call, and that familiar number dances across the screen, you answer.

you bring the phone to your ears, bringing your knees in and curling tightly into yourself. your back is perched up against the headboard, you watch goosebumps dance across the skin of your thighs. you don't stay anything yet.

"hey, kid." you wish you could melt through your bed, through the floor and into the ground. that would be a better fate than what you're about to subject yourself to.

"what'd you want, rafe?" it comes out too quickly, too harshly. you only half meant it—but it's too late to retract the statement. with bated breath you wait, wondering what's to come.

"what? can't check in on my girl?" the way he says it, you almost believe it, almost delude yourself into thinking you're still rafe's and rafe's still yours.

"i'm not your girl anymore, remember?"

"you should be."

you shut your eyes, eyes feeling surprisingly wet. you blink away the tears, not really upset but more... hurt. hurt by what he did, what you went through. hurt by what he's doing now. but you don't stop and hang up the call, like you should. you listen carefully, the faint noises in the background that sound like rafe went to the party you were supposed to be at tonight.

"are you drunk, rafe?" you ask it with too much concerning pouring into your voice.

"nah, kid. don't worry about me."

you pause again. you should really, really shut up.

"i always worry about you." you hear a rush of breath—half a laugh, half a sigh. rafe's probably smiling right now, happy that he got you to finally cave.

"m'fine. listen, i-"

"no," you interrupt, heart beating quickly and not sure if you can handle what he's about to say. "don't. just go back to the party. have fun. hang up and we'll both stop thinking about each other."

"i only came here to come find you," rafe says, and now you're the one letting out a shuddery breath, wondering if it would be better if you just ended the call and went to bed. "c'mon kid. there's nothin' i could do to stop thinkin' about you. i-i know i've been the worst. i'm tryna do better, okay? i'm-"

"rafe?" you ask, suddenly breathless and all too impatient to get him to stop talking.

"yeah?"

"you wanna come over?"

[bunnycvnts]

Late Night Needs

pairing: perv!bsf!rafe cameron x oblivious!reader

summary: your best friend, rafe, calls you one night to talk, or so you think.

warnings: male masturbation, smut 18+ only, perv bsf rafe, oblivious/unaware reader, sexual themes

a/n: ty to my faves @oceandriveab for proof reading hehe and @babygorewhore for helping me w the title MWAH

gif creds: @tetragonia

It was currently two in the morning when you woke up to the sound of your phone going off. You grabbed your phone, squinting as you looked to see several missed calls from your best friend, Rafe.

Just as you were about to call him back, your phone rang again. "Rafe?" you mutter as you answer the call but all you can hear is heavy breathing. "Hello?" you call out again and there's a small pause, "Yeah, 's me" his voice is low, "I've been trying to reach you all damn night".

"It's two in the morning" you groan, your eyes can barely stay open. "Just wanted to talk to my best friend, 's all" he breathes heavily, "Hold on, let me facetime you".

Before you can say anything, he switches the call to a facetime call, which of course, you accept it. As soon as he appears on the screen of your phone, you take notice that he was in his bed, sitting up against his headboard. He held his phone at an angle that showed his face and down to gist shirtless chest. “Why are you up?” was the first thing you asked, which made him chuckle, “Can’t talk to my best friend?”.

You give him a look, “At two in the morning?”. He shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep”. There was a pause and you could’ve sworn you heard the faint sound of heavy breathing but brushed it off, “Just got somethin�� on my mind” he added.

His comment makes you sit up in your bed and reach over to turn your bedside lamp on. As soon as you turned on the lamp, the light illuminated your features, causing Rafe to let out a small groan, one that you didn’t hear.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the FaceTime call, Rafe’s room was filled with the wet sounds of his hand stroking himself as he talked to you. His breathing was heavy and he was more than thankful at how oblivious you are.

For as long as Rafe has known you, he always knew you were an oblivious little thing. You never knew what was going on around you. It honestly turned him on even more knowing that you had no clue what he was doing on the other side of the FaceTime call.

"Wanna talk about what's on your mind?" you question, "No, ‘m fine. Just talk, wanna hear you talk" Rafe grunts, "You always make me feel better". You eagerly nodded because you would do anything to make him feel better. He was your best friend, after all.

He wasn’t really paying attention to exactly what you were saying, his mind is too focused on imagining how you’d sound under him as he moves his hand faster on his length and god, he just knew you’d make the prettiest fucking sounds for him.

As much as he loved listening to your voice and seeing your pretty little face on his screen, he desperately needed more. He needed to feel closer to you, almost as if you were with him in his bed.

Luckily, for Rafe, he knew just exactly how he can somewhat get the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He stopped for a second, unwrapping his hand from around himself before reaching into his pillowcase, pulling out a pair of your panties that he had stolen from the last time he was in your room. Sure, it wasn't anywhere near being what your cunt would feel like but it was the closest he could get to.

He wraps your panties around the base of his cock and starts stroking himself again. "Fuck" he groans, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. "Everything okay?" your voice rings through his ears, "Mhm, everything's good" he mutters, "So fuckin' good".

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously, still unaware of what he's really doing. "Just takin' care of something, nothing your pretty little head should worry about" he grunts, his hand moving faster as he opens his eyes to look at you while you were too busy paying attention to god knows what.

He bites his lip as he roughly fists his length up and down. The feeling of your panties wrapped around his cock, your voice, and the sight of you was all starting to get to him and he can feel himself getting close.

"Look at me" Rafe commanded with heavy-lidded eyes, his hand never slowing down. You stopped what you were doing and looked into the camera. "Oh fuck" he grunted as he reaches his orgasm, spurts of his cum covering your panties that he had wrapped around him.

"Are you sure you're okay, Rafe?" you question with concern, only to receive a smirk from him, "Never felt better" he mutters as he stares at your panties covered in his cum.

[bunnycvnts]

fwb!rafe x plus size reader hc part 2

disclaimer: obviously anyone can read this, there’s just a lack of plus size!reader content and it is something i love seeing being written. i am in no way shaming any body type and this is a safe place for all bodies. i just love rafe x p/s!reader and thought i’d give it some love. also this isn’t proofread, sorry. this can be a prequel to this post or read separately

warning: sexual content

fwb!rafe who is undeniably obsessed with reader, constantly being in her presence any chance he gets.

fwb!rafe who loves to cum on readers fat tits and soft tummy, just to smear it around on his fingers and shove them in her puffy cunt or between her plump lips.

fwb!rafe who throws reader over his shoulder when she misbehaves, just to show her that her size won’t stop him from manhandling her.

fwb!rafe who ‘platonically’ rests his head on her plush tummy after a rough fuck, catching his breath and ultimately falling asleep on her even if he says he’s just closing his eyes for a second.

fwb!rafe who is so obsessed with readers soft bouncy tits it makes him debate if he has a mommy kink.

fwb!rafe who loves to rub his swollen tip against her leaky fat cunt, getting off on how her lips practically cover his length.

fwb!rafe who spreads her ass checks apart while giving backshots so he can watch her tight cunt grip his cock.

fwb!rafe who lies awake at night getting off to the thought of being smothered by her thighs forever.

fwb!rafe who finds himself falling for her even though he said it was just sex. checking for her name on his phone, driving by her house to see if she’s home, turning nights they’d usually be fucking into dates when she lets him.

fwb!rafe who can’t fall asleep after sex until part of her is in his hands or against his body.

fwb!rafe who wants to be so much more.

taglist: @sunkissedrafe @cxsmiclore @mousie101 @ditzyzombiesblog

[bunnycvnts]

i have not posted content in so long bc my brain is dry. pls send reqs

[bunnycvnts]

Something Wicked This Way Comes

A Rafe Cameron Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 13.3k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

OONA'S MASTERLIST

request for @namelesslosers

requests are currently CLOSED

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

Summary: Five years after escaping the cluthes of her violent ex, reader is preparing to spend Halloween night alongside her son, but she wakes that morning feeling something amiss...

it's Halloween, after all, & things are bound to give her a fright, even if it is her past catching up for a bite.

READERS, PREPARE YOURSELVES. I GIVE YOU...THE DARKEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN.

            It was like any other day. Except it wasn’t. From the moment you woke up, something was off. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a tense sensation in the air around you. It left you feeling on edge all day, but you had summed it up to be your paranoia & anxiety kicking in because it was Halloween night. After all, it was a night of spooky scares.

            What didn’t help relieve your unsettled nerves, was the fact that you had woken up late. It was a little past 7:30 in the morning when you finally rolled over to see the time. The red lights flashing at you on your alarm clock shocked you awake, causing you to stumble out of bed.

            “Shit!” You hissed as you raced to your closet to pull out your outfit for the day.

            “Louie!” You yelled from your bedroom, listening for any sign of your son being awake. When you didn’t get a response you tripped into the hallway as you struggled to throw your dress on over your head. You were relieved you showered before bed, otherwise you would have dreaded going to work without one.

            “Lou?!” You hollered again as you stumbled into his bedroom.

            His bed was empty & unmade. You cursed again, knowing exactly where you’d find him next. Leaving his room, you succeeded in getting your dress on & tying the bow in the back before entering the living room. As expected, your son was on his stomach, his bent arms holding his head up as he watched cartoons. You spotted the bag of opened candy on the floor before him.

            “Lou…” You sped-walk towards him as he kicked his feet.

            He smiled up at you, that sweet innocent smile of his you loved so much.

            “You overslept again, Mommy.” He pointed out.

            You feigned surprise, “You don’t say. Maybe someone should have woken me up."

            Bending at the waist, you picked your son up, cradling him on your hip as you searched for the remote to shut off the TV. Lou rested his on your shoulder, his fingers tangling into your hair as he rubbed the strands between his fingers.

            “You were crying in your sleep again last night.” Lou revealed, making your heart stop. “I didn’t want to wake you up since you weren’t crying anymore.”

            “Oh, hon.” You paused in the hallway to placed him on the ground, kneeling down to be eye-level with him, “I’m sorry you had to hear that again.”

            Ever since you left your hometown, or rather ran away from there, you had the same nightmare. In the beginning they happened every single night, but now, almost six years later, they were few & far between. But it was Louie who suffered the most from them. You didn’t realize you were still having him until he was older & started talking. You remembered when he lied next to you in bed one morning, asking why you cried in your sleep. You never had any memories of the nightmares. But Louie remembered them for you.

            “Was the bad man in your dream trying to hurt you again?” Lou bit his lip, a small bout of fear appearing in his eyes.

            You tugged him into you, holding him tight against your chest as you hugged him, “All that matters is that it was just a dream.”

            Lou wrapped his tiny arms over your shoulders, his hands never leaving your hair. That had been a comfort mechanism of his ever since he was an infant.

            “I wish he would visit my dreams.” Lou shared softly, to which you gently pulled him away from you to stare at him bewildered.

            “Baby, why would you want that?”

            He lowered his eyes, “So you could sleep.”

            Releasing a saddened sigh, you ran your fingers through his hair, “Mommy is fine, okay? You keep dreaming your excellent, beautiful dreams. One of us has to, right?”

            Lou nodded at that but he wasn’t smiling.

            Wanting to lighten the mood, you gathered his hands in yours, “I tell you what, you hurry up & go get dressed while Mommy finishes getting ready & we’ll take the long way to school so you can see the kitties, yeah?”

            Louie beamed at that, “Really?!”

            “Yes, really.” You kissed his forehead before standing up, “Now, hurry! We’re late as it is.”

            Lou took off for his bedroom, cheers of joy left in his wake. You smiled after him before re-entering your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, resting against it momentarily as an old memory flashed before you.

            You couldn’t breathe, one of his hands wrapped securely around your throat as he fucked himself into you. His pleased groans filled your ears, forcing more tears from your eyes. A chilled shiver shot up your spin when you felt his lips kiss the tops of your breasts where his teeth marks remained. The weight of his body crushed against yours & you had never felt more trapped.

            “Mom!” Lou yelled from down the hallway, making you jump, “Can I wear my costume to school?!”

            “Yes, baby!” You hollered back, hearing the unevenness in your voice. Shaking away the awful sensations of that memory, you finished getting ready for work.

            Lou skipped ahead of you as you walked down the main street of your small town. You had moved here shortly after Louie was born, wanting him to live in a family town that had a good school system. More importantly, it was a close-knit community. Almost everyone knew everyone. That worked in your favor & made you feel safe. It meant that if anyone new ever moved to town you would know about it. Your neighbors were your last line of defense against the man you escaped from over five years ago.

            “Look, Mommy, look!” Lou paused in front of the display window the cat adoption café. He had his face pressed against the glass, his ghoul makeup smearing as he did so. You laughed to yourself, knowing you would just have to re-do his makeup again before going into class with all the other ghosts & witches.

            “Wow.” You mused along with your son as he meowed at the cats chasing his finger on the other side of the glass. Lou had been asking for a cat for his birthday ever since he was three years old. Whenever he saw one on the street or in a neighbor’s window, he would race towards it at lay on the ground with it as the feline in question would rub along his face & body, making him as one of their own.

            But you always had to say no. A cat, or pet of any kind, would slow you down in the event you had to run again. There had never been a peep or warning from your few trusted friends back home, but you couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t live with yourself if you had to escape from your home with Lou at a moment’s notice, him crying over your shoulder as he begged for you to get his pet.

            And that made you furious. That you couldn’t give your son something he truly wanted & loved because you had to be ready for when your past caught up to you.

            As Lou continued aweing at the kittens behind the glass, you raised your head to peer inside the café. The elderly woman that was always there waved at you through the glass & you waved back. But as you did, you spotted another in the glass. Only they weren’t on the other side, but in the reflection. And they looked a lot like…

            A panicked gasp escaped you as you spun around, staring wide-eyed across the street. But no one was there. Your heart was racing as you looked down the street every which way. But all you saw were other townspeople going about their Friday morning.

            It’s in your head, _____. You calmed yourself. He’s not here. It wasn’t him. It’s just your paranoia.       

            Inhaling sharply, you stole Lou’s attention, grabbing his wrist softly, “C’mon, honey, we gotta go.”

            Louie allowed you to drag him away from the kitty café, his arm outstretched in longing.

            You saw Lou off to his kindergarten classroom before speed-walking down the hallway to the main office. It was a massive relief to you that you managed to land a job in an administrative position at Lou’s school before he even started. Before that you were waitressing while taking online classes at the local community college, & once you got your degree in business administration, you scored a front office desk job at the only elementary school in town. All you needed was to be close to Lou because you never knew when you’d have to snatch him & run.

            “Hey, Miriam.” You greeted breathlessly as you raced into the office, tossing your purse on the floor under your desk.

            “Hey, you.” She eyed you mischievously.

            Miriam was well beyond her retirement period, but Principle Bentley couldn’t get rid of her if he tried. And tried he had. But it was all in good fun. Miriam was a staple of the school & the town itself. She was known as a hard ass but also a gossip queen. She always had all the tea o what was happening in the sleepy Northeastern town. It made your mostly mundane days more enjoyable.

            “Overslept again, I see.”

            “Yeah.” You sighed as you turned your computer on, “Don’t know what’s going on lately.”

            “Something’s in the air.” She commented, echoing your silent thoughts from earlier that morning. “You should relax, though, hon. You’re always wound so tight.”

            You raised your brows in agreement as you pulled up your morning duties, “Easier said than done.”

            Miriam chuckled at that. The door behind your respective desks opened & Principle Bentley stepped out.

            “Morning, ladies.” He greeted as he approached the coffee maker in the corner of the office.

            “Morning, Nicholas.” Miriam didn’t care for referring to him by his career name, after all, she did babysit him when he was only a child.

            “Morning, Principle Bentley.” You greeted him, to which he smirked sweetly.

            “How many times do I gotta tell you, _____, call me Nick.”

            Principle Bentley was young for his job. Thirty one, to be exact, & he was a well-known bachelor in the community. He was easy on the eyes, with dark brown eyes reminiscent of a puppy, & dimples that only added to his boyish charm. But he was your boss. And despite his mild flirtatious advances, you only treated him as such.

            If you couldn’t indulge your son by getting him a cat, you sure as shit couldn’t indulge yourself with a romantic partner. It was out of the question. Perhaps one day, when Louie was older & out of the house, but until then, you kept your mind distraction free.

            “And how many times do I have to tell you, you’re my boss.” You reminded him back, though your tone was friendly.

            Principle Bentley chuckled at that before pouring himself a mug of coffee, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

            You glanced back at your computer, knowing Miriam really only showed up to get paid & gabber with the mom’s & dad’s that came in to pick up their children.

            “There’s an assembly just before lunch, the usual ‘stay safe out there on Halloween night’ spiel followed by some games the teachers put together. And then during final hour the kids will be going from class to class as a precursor to their trick-or-treating.”

            He nodded in response, “Sounds like a normal day.”

            You smiled, “Pretty much.”

            “Alright, well, I trust you two to hold down the fort out here while I make some calls.” He began walking towards his office before stopping in the doorway, “_____?”

            “Yes?” You spun around in your chair to face him.

            “Before the assembly, I’d like to speak with you.”

            “O-okay.” You fumbled, your fingers clenching together.

            “It’s nothing bad. Just something I wanted to run past you.”

            “Of course.” You nodded sheepishly. Then he closed his door.

            Turning back to your computer, you rolled your shoulders, having felt them stiffen at his proposal to talk one-on-one.

            “Why is it they always say, ‘it’s nothing bad’, when it is indeed something bad?” You murmured out loud, not truly expecting an answer.

            “Nick?” Miriam chuckled, “Boy couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. You’re not in trouble dear. If I had to guess…”

            You rolled your eyes, recognizing that suggestive tone of your voice very well.

            “Nick is finally going to put his big boy pants on & ask you on a date.”

            You scoffed at that, facing her wide-eyed, “Miriam! He is not going to ask me on a date. He’s my boss!”

            “Oh, pish, posh.” Miriam waved your dismissal away, “I met my husband working for him. It still happens.”

            “No.” You chuckled, focusing on your computer as you read emails, “Not that. Besides, I already have a man in my life.”

            “Your son, as cute as he is, doesn’t count.” Miriam told you bluntly.

            “Yeah, yeah.” You waved her away before sarcastically responding, “Now, shut up. I have very important emails to get back to.”

            Miriam left twenty minutes early for the assembly, leaving you to finish off your morning duties alone in the office. There was still five minutes to spare before the assembly started so you put your computer in sleep mode then stood up to head to Principle Bentley’s office.

            Knocking gently, you waited until you heard the familiar sound of his voice, telling you to come in.

            “_____!” He grinned, rising from his chair, “Please, take a seat.”

            Despite what Miriam teased you about earlier, you still felt nervous. Though she was right about Principle Bentley being a good guy, you still felt like you had done something wrong.

            “So, is this about my being late?” You questioned, your brows creasing.

            “You were late?” He replied, clearly only hearing about it now.

            “Oh…yeah.” You sighed, “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I prom—”

            “_____, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble. Miriam bails on her duties all the time & have I spoken to her about it?”

            “Well, no, but it’s Miriam. No one really wants to cross her.” You joked, trying to lighten the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

            “Sure, sure.” He nodded in agreement, “Look, I don’t mind if you’re late. You could be two hours late & it’d be fine. I mean, what are you gonna miss, signing kids in & out? It’s fine, really.”

            “Okay.” You felt yourself relax, “If you say so.”

            “I do.” He chuckled.

            “So, what is that you wanted to discuss?”

            Principle Bentley sucked his teeth in awkwardly before finally leaning forward on his desk, his elbows resting there with his hands raised, “I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting lunch together today.”

            “Oh.” You felt your smile drop. Oh. Miriam had been right.

            “No pressure, either!” He rushed out, “I know how weird it’s gotta be having your boss ask you out but I don’t know, figured I’d at least try.”

            “Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly before gathering your thoughts, “The offer is nice, Nick. But—”

            “Nick?” He asked incredulously but was smiling nonetheless, “Using my name? I know what that means.”

            He was letting you let him down easily & you were grateful towards him for it.

            “But I’m going to have to decline.”

            “I understand.” He nodded, never losing his boyish smile.

            “Ya know, in a perfect world, I—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you really wanted to say what you were about to say, but the look on Nick’s face encouraged you to keep going.

            “In a perfect world, I’d say yes.” You admitted. Nick was a good guy. He always took care of you & Miriam. Plus he enjoyed working with the kids & all parents sung his praises. Nick Bentley was a good guy, & he’d be an excellent father. Truly, that was something you wish you could have given Lou, a father, but with your past still terrorizing you in your sleep, it just wasn’t possible.

            “And what is a perfect world?” Nick asked, his voice soft.

            You sighed, biting your lower lip in thought. “I love being a mother. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

            For some odd reason, you were ready to tell someone your life story, or at least the nicer parts about it. Something indeed was in the air.

            “But I had Lou when I was young, too young. I was nineteen. I wasn’t ready… & ya know, Lou’s father…” You inhaled sharply as those startling blue eyes of your ex flashed through your mind. “Let’s just say he wasn’t a good guy. I’m just not ready for another relationship. Or dating, even. I just want to focus on being a good mother to Lou.”

            Nick eyed you with admiration in his eyes. He nodded in understanding, “Your son is very lucky to have you. I hope you know that.”

            The praise made your heart falter with elation. Because you ran away from your hometown, & couldn’t risk your ex finding you, you were forced to cut off all communication with friends & family. No one had even met your son. Not your parents, not your best friend, no one. It was another aspect of your life that you were furious about. That Lou was forced to only call you family when he had so many more people out there who would love him just as much as you did. But to protect him most of all, you had to stay hidden. So, hearing those words from Nick made your heart swell.

            “Thank you for saying that.” You replied almost inaudibly.

            “Thank you for being transparent.” Nick responded in kind, “I can’t imagine it was easy to share.”

            “No.” You chuckled openly, “It wasn’t. At all.”

            “Well,” Nick stood from his chair, gesturing towards the door, “walk with me to the assembly?”

            You laughed & clapped your hands as kids all over the gymnasium ran amok, your ghoulish son among them. After the usual ‘stay safe’ portion of the assembly, the kids were free to go around to booths the teachers had put together in the spirit of Halloween night. You took to the wall, your eyes following your son as he ran around with his friends, chasing one of the 3rd grade teachers dressed a ghost, playing a game they called ‘ghost hunters’.

            Nick was in the midst of it all, getting tangled up with the kids as they either wrapped themselves around his legs or tried climbing his black. You hid your smile behind your hand as you watched on.

            On the bleachers to your right was Miriam & a few other female staff members. They all appeared to be reacting in shock to something Miriam was saying. You were curious to what tea she was spilling so you found yourself joining them.

            “Why the shocked faces?” You asked. One of the first grade teachers, Isabella, handed you a Styrofoam cup of hot apple cider. You accepted it gratefully.

            “You haven’t heard?!” Sophia, one of the student teacher’s, turned to you in shock, “Someone broke into George Acosta’s barn last night & stole that ancient Chevy truck he’s been working on for ages.”

            You frowned at that. You knew the truck well, everyone did. But only because it made these awful metal, grinding sound as it ambled down the roads throughout town. You could hear it from two blocks away most times as it backfired, alerting anyone in the vicinity that good old Mr. Acosta was out & about.

            “I’m telling ya.” Isabella commented, “Whoever stole it has to be from out of town. No one is idiotic enough to steal from George. Remember when he threatened Sheriff Kaufman with a loaded shot gun just for pulling over a reckless driving teen on his property last year? Even the Sheriff was apologizing profusely to him.”

            The women cackled amongst themselves but you weren’t laughing. The strange occurrence & Isabella’s theory about it being an out of towner made your stomach shift into knots.

            It not him. It can’t be. Someone would’ve contacted you if he got wind of where you were. It was just a random crime, _____. It’s not him. You’re okay. Lou is okay. Calm down. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Ex—

            “_____? My god, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Isabella placed a hand on your upper back in comfort.

            You nodded shakily but stood up, “I’m alright. Just feeling sick all of a sudden.”

            “You don’t look good, hon.” Miriam added, peering at you with concern.

            “I’ll be fine.” You assured them, “I just need to use the restroom really quick.”

            Everything was okay. It was just your paranoia, you knew that, but you couldn’t deny how ever since this morning you felt like something awful was coming. But you reminded yourself that it wouldn’t be the first time you felt that way & ended up realizing eventually that it was just your nerves & traumatic responses acting up.

            “Nick.” You approached him as he assisted with the gym teacher in replacing a skeleton pinata with a pumpkin one.

            “Hey!” He greeted jovially but frowned when he took in your state, “Whoa, you alright?”

            “I’m not feeling well, all of a sudden. I don’t know what’s happening but—”

            “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He clambered down the ladder he had been on to gently grip your upper arms, “What do you need?”

            “I know I was late this morning but would it be alright if I went home for the day? I just, I don’t want to get the kids sick if it’s something contagious.”

            You were lying through your teeth, something you had gotten really good at, but it was for the right reason.

            “Yeah, of course, of course. Is there anything I can do?”

            Your eyes searched out Lou as he gathered around one of the teachers dressed as a warlock, listening intently to a story he was reading from a book.

            “Yes, but it’s too much to ask for.”

            “Hey.” Nick smiled kindly at you, “There’s no such thing, what is it?”

            “Would you mind bringing Lou home after school? Normally I’d take him with me but he’s having too much fun & I don’t want to ruin his day. Plus, I have no car to pick him up & I don’t want him walking home from school alone.”

            “Of course, yeah, I can do that, it’ll be no problem.” He nodded.

            It took a long time getting comfortable about Lou being alone with anyone who wasn’t you, but after living in the close-knit community as long as you did, you knew that Louie would be in safe hands with whomever you left him with.

            “Thank you, seriously, thank you.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” He stood up straight but remained watching you with concern, “What about you though? Do you need a ride home?”

            “No.” You mustered a grateful smile, waving away his offer, “I’ll be okay. I just need to get home & take a cold shower or something.”

            “Okay, yeah. Will you call me when you get there? Let me know you’re alive & what not.”

            The two of you shared a laugh but you nodded, “Of course.”

            “Alright. I’ll bring him back straight after school. You focus on feeling better.”

            “Thank you, Nick.”

            He gripped your shoulder in comfort before you parted from him to approach Louie. He was still listening to the warlock’s story when you appeared behind him.

            “Hey, baby. Mommy’s not feeling well so I’m going home. Principle Bentley said he’d bring you home after school, okay?”

            He spun around towards you, his youthful face frowning as he peered up at you, “Are you okay, Mommy?”

            “Yeah, I’m okay, I just feel sick, that’s all.”

            “Is it your dreams?”

            “No.” You shook your head rapidly, cupping his cheek, “I just need to lie down for a while.”

            “Okay.” He gave you that soft smile of his you adored so much.

            “Mommy loves you.” You hugged him, kissing him three times on the crown of his head, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

            “Bye, Mommy.”

            “Bye, baby.”

            After seeking out Lou’s teacher & asking her to walk him to the office at the end of the school day so Nick could drive him home, you were finally able to leave work. Fortunately, you only lived five blocks away, so you would be home in no time to get your head together. You hated lying to your coworkers, more so, your son, but you needed to get home to ensure that everything was still ready to go in case you & Lou had to run. Never in the five years that you had lived in your town had you ever had a nasty feeling like you did today. And although you knew it was likely just the eeriness of Halloween mixed with your paranoia, you chose to be safe rather than sorry.

            But as you strolled home, your cardigan wrapped snugly around your front, you couldn’t help as your mind strayed to the past.

            You were in love, maddeningly so. He was everything you could have dreamed of. And the way he looked at you always had you feeling like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. You could never have imagined that you would have found your prince. And that’s just what he was. He was your prince charming & you were his darling princess.

            The two of you were inseparable. The honeymoon phase meant something new with the two of you. Your relationship was filled with laughter, friendship, trust, & most importantly, love. So much love. You never knew you could love anyone as deeply as you loved him, & you knew he felt the same.

            And for the first year of your relationship it was pure bliss. Until it wasn’t.

            Everything changed after you turned 18. You were ready to take your relationship to the next level. He had been ecstatic that you were ready to become intimate & finally have sex. It was how you knew he was one of the good ones, that he never pressured you or tried anything himself. He was respectful & kind & patient. Everything you dreamt about. But once you two did have sex, something changed in him. A darker energy you never knew he had emerged.

            It started out small. He would become touchier. You had reasoned to yourself it was just because now that you two were having sex he was antsy for it all the time. But when the times came that you wouldn’t want, whether it was because you weren’t in the mood or weren’t feeling well, he would make snarky remarks under his breath. And then it shifted again.

            He started to not want you going out with him, even if it was just to a friend’s house to watch a movie. He would text you the whole time, blow up your phone, leave you voicemails accusing you of not being where you said you were. Your friends pointed out to you that his behavior was problematic & that you should discuss it with. And so you did. Why wouldn’t you of? After all, you two had never had serious issues before. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

            The night you told him that he was beginning to make you feel suffocated would be a night you never forgot. He has lost his mind. You had never heard him yell before, let alone raise his voice, especially at you, but he had done it all that night. When he got to a point where you felt scared to be alone with him you had tried leaving but he wouldn’t have any that.

            It was the first time he raped you. It wouldn’t be the last.

            After the first time though, he had apologized profusely, swearing it would never happen again. He confessed to you that he was just scared of losing you & that you were giving him mixed signals lately. You didn’t understand that, knowing that in your own mind you were definitely not doing that, but he looked so scared, so terrified of losing you, that it had convinced you to stay with him.

            You would live to regret it. His behavior didn’t change, it only got worse. But it eventually go to a point where you were practically chained to him. You stopped hanging out with your friends, quit coming out of your room to visit with your family, stopped posting about your life on social media. You became a scared little girl, & it was all because of him.

            Then when you thought he couldn’t get worse, he proved you wrong.

            The two of you had been attending a beach party. It was with his friends so you weren’t anticipating seeing any of your own, but one had been there. You had known Donovon your whole life, longer than any of your friends. Other than your closest girlfriend, Donovon was your next closest friend. So, when you saw him at that party, you were ecstatic to see a face you were forbidden to see.

            It was your mistake putting Donovon in the devil’s path. Had you known what your boyfriend was capable of, you would have never taken him back. But that didn’t matter. When Donovon saw you, he snuck up behind you, capturing you by your waist & lifting you into the air. You had squealed in fear at first, genuinely scared due to your ex’s mental, emotional, & physical torment, but when you realized who it was, you only felt relief.

            So, you hugged Donovon. Your oldest friend.

            And it would be the last time you, that anyone did.

            The devil had heard your screams of fear & came rushing forward furiously. You had no time to react or stop him as he tackled Donovon to the ground before beating him to a pulp. Donovon didn’t have a chance to defend himself as the devil knocked his head every which way. Others at the party managed to separate the two but the damage had been done.

            Donovon was in the hospital for two weeks before his family took him off life support. Your boyfriend had murdered your oldest friend. And he got away with it, too. Witnesses at the party protected the devil, saying that Donovon had started it. That it was just a fight that got out of hand. No one knew that it would come to that. And most of all, your boyfriend’s father used his influence to ensure his son would never see a sentence. Not even for manslaughter.

            Your boyfriend swore to you that he didn’t mean to lose it like he did but you saw that dark fury behind his eyes. He had. He had meant every single fist brought down onto your friend’s skull, & he would do it again.

            You weren’t safe with him. That much you knew, but you didn’t know how to get away from him. At the time, you were preparing yourself to be one of the women you had seen in those domestic violence movies who couldn’t find their voice to tell anyone the truth. But that all changed when you took a pregnancy test & it came back positive.

            That pink plus sign was all you needed to kick your flight instinct into gear. It took a couple weeks to get everything prepared, but you made it happen. They were the scariest weeks of your life because you were required to sneak behind the devil’s back to get the plan into place. After what he did to Donovon, it took little convincing from old friends & your parents to help you get out.

            But you didn’t want them to get hurt in the process. So, once you had the funds, the drive, & a bus ticket out of town, you told all of those who helped you that you wouldn’t be in contact with them, too scared that if they knew where you were that your ex would do to them as he did to Donovon just to find out where you were. You couldn’t allow that, not again.

            And so you ran, & you didn’t stop running until you reached the New England states. Throughout your relationship, you had revealed to your boyfriend many times how you dreamed of living in the Pacific Northwest. It would be the first place he looked for you. And he had the funds & means to do just that. So you went to the other end of the country, counting your days until he found you again.

            The backfiring of a nearby engine shocked you out of your reverie. You blinked away your memories, realizing you were then only a block away from your house. The backfiring of a nearby engine sounded near the end of the street you were on & you froze, remembering what your coworkers at work had just told you about Georga Acosta.

            You felt safe enough standing there on Main Street, surrounded by townsfolk as they went about their business, but you felt a chill roll up your spine. As if eyes were watching you. As if he was watching you.

            Your flight instinct from long ago kicked in & you rushed into the nearest storefront. It was a Halloween store. The man behind the counter smiled politely at you as he continued helping a customer. You backed yourself up until you couldn’t be seen from the street but could still see the street yourself. As you did, the engine grew closer. You stood behind a shelf at the end of an aisle as you waited for Acosta’s truck to appear. For him to be behind the wheel.

            But when the truck finally appeared, you felt a heavy weight lift from your shoulders. It was Chevy, much like Mr. Acosta’s, but not his. Instead, the truck that ambled down the street was filled to the brim with teenagers hooting & hollering as they wore Halloween masks, playing the iconic Halloween theme song on a boombox from the bed.

            You fluttered your eyes closed, your hand on your chest.

            “Miss, are you alright?”

            Your eyes flew open at the nearby voice. It was the man behind the counter, the customer he had been helping gone.

            “Yes, sorry.” You breathed out, a relieved smile on your face.

            “Did you need to purchase something?” You could tell he was curious about you but didn’t push.

            Your arm brushed against the shelves you had been hiding behind. On the display shelf was a witches hat. You quickly grabbed it.

            “Just this.”

            After paying, you felt safe enough to leave the store, now knowing your imagination was just that. Then you finished your walk home.

            Someone was calling your name. It was like a whisper, close but far away at the same time. Your name was said again, over & over, & every single time it repeated it grew closer, louder. Until nothing. Then it was quiet.

            Then a pair of lips touched your cheek.

            You shot forward in bed, your face coated in sweat, your chest heaving. Your mouth & throat was dry. Holding your head in your hands, you focused on calming down your breathing. You touched your cheek where you had felt the kiss. It was warm to touch.

            It was just a dream. You had fallen asleep, not meaning to, just wanting to lie down for five minutes but it seems your body had other plans. Once you gathered yourself, shaking away the nerves, you stood from your bed, your muscles aching. But as you did you halted immediately.

            The door to your bedroom was open. Not all the way, just cracked open. You frowned. You were sure you had shut it. But ever since getting home, your mind had been a mess. All the anxiety & paranoia you were feeling was eating you away. You were losing it!

            Brushing the concern for you door away, you exited your room, heading down to your kitchen. The clock on the stove read 2:32. School would have just gotten out, Nick would be here any moment with Louie. You chugged a glass of water & opened the fridge, peering inside to get a snack ready for Lou, though you imagined he would be bringing home plenty of candy from the trick-or-treat at school.

            Just as you fingered a package of sliced ham, the doorbell rang. You felt your brows crease, checking the clock once more. 2:33.

            They must have left school early. You thought mindlessly, knowing it was Nick with your son at the door.

            Tossing the ham onto the counter, you rounded the kitchen to the front door. You unlatched the lock & swung it open.

            “That was qui—” Your words died on your tongue.

            There was no one. You frowned, stepping out onto your porch. Looking into your front yard & the neighbors, you saw no one in sight. Your street was quiet & bare of any life.

            So, who rang the doorbell?

            The question only left you reeling. Turning back to go inside, you stopped when something in the corner of your eye stole your attention. On the bottom step of the stairs leading to your porch was a few pumpkins you & Lou hard carved out together earlier that week. They appeared relatively normal except for one.

            Warily descending the stairs, you gripped the banister when you finally realized what was wrong with the single pumpkin. The handle of a knife glinted under the autumn sun as it stuck out from the top of the pumpkin. You covered your mouth with your hand, whipping around to check your surroundings once more. There was no one in sight, not even Eugenia May—the town recluse—was peeking out from her window.

            Your heart was hammering in your chest. You turned back to the pumpkin, kneeling down to inspect further. From what you could make out thanks to the cut-outs of the pumpkin, the knife was long, nearly piercing the other side.

            Why would someone—

            “Boo!”

            A scream tore from your throat at the booming voice behind you.

            Spinning around, you nearly toppled over before Nick managed to catch you by the elbow.

            “What the fu—” Your son looked up at you with wide eyes, “—dge?!”

            “Sorry.” Nick smiled uncomfortably, “It was your son’s idea.”

            Your eyes danced between the two of them as your heart began to settle down. You hadn’t even heard the hum of an engine, let alone their footsteps as they came up the walkway.

            “What are you doing outside, Mommy?” Louie asked, watching you curiously.

            It was then that you remembered, too, why you were outside. You stepped in front of the pumpkin with the knife sticking out, grateful Lou had yet to see it.

            “I was excited to you, baby.” You told him, ruffling his hair. He slapped your hands away playfully.

            “Hey, why don’t you go inside & get a fruit snack, I’ll be in in a moment, I just need to talk to Principle Bentley.”

            Louie charged forward. You smiled wryly, watching his small legs amble up the stairs & into the house.

            “Sorry ‘bout that. Your kid is hard to say no to.” Nick apologized.

            “No, that’s okay.” You waved it away, “I’m just relieved it was you & not someone else.”

            “Who else would it be?” Nick asked, not realizing the dangerous ground he was treading.

            “Maybe the person who stabbed my pumpkin.” You said, stepping out of the way to reveal the petty crime.

            “Oh, shit.” Nick eyed the pumpkin on the bottom step, “Who’d you piss off?”

            Of course you knew it was a joke but you didn’t laugh. In fact, it did the opposite. You frowned, staring at the deadly weapon.

            “Oh, hey, I’m sorry, I was only kidding.” Nick reached for you but you stepped away.

            “It’s—it’s fine. Forget about it.” Bending over, you snatched the knife by its handle before yanking it out. “Just me being fucking paranoid again.” You mumbled but Nick had heard you.

            You were climbing back up to porch when he caught up to you, blocking the way to your door with a concerned look on his face, “_____, I’m sorry, truly I am.”

            You stared at him, unsure of his words.

            “Are you really thinking someone did this to you on purpose?”

            His question unsettled you. You shifted from foot to foot as you avoided his eyes. You could feel your breathing begin to quicken, on the edge of hyperventilating.

            “Hey, hey.” Nick closed the distance between the two of you, placing his hands on your shoulders gently, “Talk to me. If you’re really concerned then we should call someone about it.”

            “No!” You rushed out, “No. It’s nothing. It’s just me being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

            You tried to go around him but Nick blocked you once more.

            “I’ll get out of your way, I promise, but…I’ve never seen you like this before. This…scared. If something is happening, I want to help.”

            “You can’t help.” You sighed defeatedly. You were just so tired, so tired of looking over your shoulder, of worrying about if & when he would find you. You just wanted to live a happy, normal life with your son.

            “I can try.” Nick captured your eyes, “If you let me.”

            As you stared back at him, seeing the genuine care for you, the same look you had seen once before in the last man you trusted, you felt yourself soften. Nick wasn’t him. Nick was a good person. Unlike your past, he wanted to help you. And so, for the first time in five years, you let someone in.

            It was nearly 5’o’clock when Lou took off from the dinner table to go wash his hands. Nick helped you clear the table of dirty dishes. You thanked him for his help before placing the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

            “So, this ex of yours.” Nick began, “You think he’s found you?”

            “I don’t know.” You shook your head, peering out a window over your kitchen sink, “I’ve been living in fear of him finding us for so long that anything remotely out of the ordinary makes me think it’s him.”

            “Well, I can almost assure you that it’s not.” Nick kept his voice low as Lou entered the main room.

            “Go ahead & watch some cartoons.” You told him, to which Lou very happily obliged. Once the TV sounded from the living room, you turned to Nick.

            “How can you assure me that?”

            After Nick made his claim to want to help you, you had told him everything. Everything. Not a detail spared. You weren’t explicit in reciting your history with your dreaded ex, but you detailed enough to get the point across.

            “I called down to the station.” Nick revealed.

            Your eyes widened, immediately questioning if you were wrong to trust him, but Nick raised his hand in reassurance, already predicting your reaction, “I didn’t give any names, I promise. I just asked if they had gotten any complaints about pumpkins or the like being vandalized. You know Brenden Brennen?”

            You did. No one forgot an unfortunate name like that. He was a local teenager, known to be trouble.

            “Apparently Brenden & some of his friends have been going around scaring people. Throwing poppers into driveways, jumping out of bushes, prank calling. I guess even Stephanie Romero’s garage got tagged with fake blood.”

            You nodded, understanding where he was going with it all.

            “It’s Halloween. It’s a spooky night. Kids are just getting up to no good, that’s all. Things are bound to go bump in the night.”

            It did little relieve you but you accepted the likelihood that it was Brenden who stabbed your pumpkin.

            “But what about Mr. Acosta’s truck? I mean, Isabella’s right. No one in town, not even Brenden Brennen, would be stupid enough to mess with him, let alone that truck he holds near & dear to his heart.”

            Nick chuckled at that but shrugged, “Nothing so far as far as I know. But Mr. Acosta is getting up there. Way, waaaay up there. I hear his daughter complain every now & then that she swears he’s got Alzheimer’s, says he’s been losing track of things a lot lately.”

            “A truck is quite a big thing to lose track of.” You muttered.

            “Yeah, it is.” Nick nodded in agreement, “But think of it this way. From the sounds of it, your ex has money, & lots of it. If he were here, he wouldn’t be breaking into a barn to steal a beat-up old truck. He’d probably be driving through town in one of those nice sports cars that rarely come through here. And I say ‘rarely’ because folk like that stick out like a sore thumb. So, if he were here, someone would’ve noticed him by now.”

            Everything he was saying was making sense, & you knew it to be true. You sighed, smiling, feeling like a fool.

            “I just want it to end.” You admitted, your voice soft as you stared at Lou on the other end of the room, “I don’t want to live in fear for the rest of my life. I want Louie to have a normal childhood, not one that he looks back on wondering why his mom was always crying in her sleep or looking over her shoulder every day.”

            “Hey.” Nick approached you, his hand on your lower back in comfort, “You have done so much for him. He knows how much you love him, he sees that. And he loves you, too. It may not be the childhood you want for him but it’s better than the one he could’ve had if you hadn’t run away, isn’t it?”

            “Oh, god.” You marveled horrifically at the thought. You never thought too long, if ever, about what it would have been like raising Lou back home, with him always around.

            “See?” Nick consoled you, “You’re giving him the childhood he deserves. As long as that kid there has you, he’ll be alright.”

            You nodded, peering up Nick, “Thank you. For everything.”

            He grinned sheepishly at that, shrugging, “I’m here for you, _____. For as long as you need me.”

            It had been a long time since you felt like you found someone you could trust. You were happy Nick was the first.

            Surprising even yourself, you raised onto your tiptoes & placed a kiss on his cheek. You watched as Nick blushed at the affection. When you pulled away, you two stared at one another before laughing lightly.

            “Are you going to be my Dad, now?”

            Both of you jumped apart as Lou stared at the two of you from the other side of the kitchen.

            “What was that, buddy?” Nick played off your sons question as you tucked your smile into your teeth.

            “No, baby, Principle Bentley was just helping Mommy.”

            Lou made a questionable face but moved on, “When are we going trick-or-treating?”

            “Oh, um.” You eyed the clock on the stove. It was nearly 6. “Any moment! Go get a jacket on & we’ll head out.”’

            Lou began to run down the hallway before he stopped to stare at Nick, “Are you coming with us, Principle Bentley?”

            “Oh, I, uh, we haven’t discussed—”

            “Yes.” You answered for him, watching as Lou broke out into a smile in response, “Now go get a jacket, mister!”

            Once Lou was out of sight, you turned towards Nick, “It’s probably not the date you had in mind but if you’d like, Lou & I would love to have you join us.”

            Nick grinned that dimpled boyish grin of his, “Then I’d love to.”

            Kids ran amok throughout the neighborhood as you & Nick walked side by side on the sidewalk, watching as Lou raced from house to house, filling his plastic pumpkin candy bowl to the brim. Every now & then, a candy or two would spill out as your son ran happily between yards.

            Lou had wanted you to dress up but you had forgotten to actually get yourself a costume. So, the witches hat you had purchased earlier that day was all you had for a costume. It was enough to satisfy Lou, though the same couldn’t be said for Nick. You ended up having to use some of your own makeup to draw a clown look onto your boss’s face. He looked ridiculous, but you supposed that was fitting.

            “He’s pretty great.” Nick commented, watching your son compliment another ghoul’s costume.

            “Yeah, he is.” You felt pride.

            “Ya know,” Nick began, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “I obviously don’t know anything about your ex except from what you’ve told me—which is all bad, bad stuff—but I hope you know that your son is yours. He’s not his. Even if he’s made up of half of him. Who he grows up to be, that’ll be all you.”

            The thought warmed you. That was all you could really ask for.

            The two of you watched as Lou ran down the stairs of another house before running up to you, practically slamming into your legs.

            “Oof, careful, babe.” You giggled. Lou grinned up at you, holding out a piece of candy.

            “Your favorite.” A Smartie was perched between his fingers.

            You accepted the candy, smiling down at you son, “Thank you, Louie.”

            Then he was off again, more candy spilling out behind him.

            “He has his eyes.” You shared. Nick peered at you as you continued. “At first, that terrified me, ya know, when he grew into them. So much of his father there. So much of…”

            You still couldn’t say his name.

            “But you’re right.” You sniffled, the chilly autumn air beginning to make your nose run, “Louie will be nothing like him, even if he resembles him. He’ll be soft, gentle, kind, so full of life & wonder & happiness. All the things he is now. All the things his father isn’t.”

            The three of you crossed the street once Lou finished up at the last house on the corner.

            “You’re a really good mom, _____.” Nick commented, “Louie is in good hands, your hands.”

            “Yeah.” You nodded, sharing a smile with him, though his smile appeared wider thanks to the red lipstick stretched across his lips & cheeks. You giggled openly, unable to take him seriously.

            “What?” Nick widened his eyes in feigned offense, “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to draw a decent clown face.”

            As you two laughed amongst yourselves, someone suddenly shouldered you, practically taking you off your feet.

            “Hey, watch it!” Nick caught you as you stumbled into a neighbor’s yard.

            You followed his line of sight, staring at the back of what you assumed to be a grown man as he stalked down the sidewalk, his hood pulled over his head. Nick grumbled in annoyance as he pulled you upright but you only remained staring after the man. But he never looked back & before you knew it, he had turned a corner & disappeared from sight.

            “What is it?” Nick asked.

            “N-nothing.” You faked a smile, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to him.

            “Prick should watch where he’s going. Had we been one of these kids we’d’ve been flattened.”

            Nick continued walking down the sidewalk, following behind as Lou continued his night of trick-or-treating. You looked over your shoulder once more & were startled by what you saw.

            At the end of the block, where the man had disappeared off to, there he stood. At least, you assumed it was the same man, standing eerily still just staring at you. But you weren’t sure if it was you he was staring at. He was wearing a mask resembling a hockey mask, his face completely covered. There was no way to tell just exactly where he was looking but you felt it… you felt his eyes staring right back into your own.

            “_____!” Nick hollered your name. You spun back around, realizing they had moved a couple houses down, “Coming?”

            Looking back to the man, you were disheartened to find him gone, the corner barren of anyone taller than five feet.

            Frowning, you caught up to Nick.

            “Everything okay?”

            You weren’t sure, but you reminded yourself of everything Nick had said earlier. If he was here, you would’ve known by now. And like he also said, it was Halloween, there was bound to be scares in the night.

            Lou was slouched against Nick’s chest as he carried him back to your house. He was already half-way asleep, the excitement & running around having finally caught up to him. You carried his pumpkin basket full of candy, leading the way back. Once you reached the steps leading up the pathway to your porch, you peered up at you house, ensuring that nothing looked amiss.

            “He’s gonna have one hell of a candy hangover.” Nick joked softly.

            You smiled back him, “Thank you again for carrying him all this way.”

            “It’s no problem.” He assured you, carrying your nearly asleep son up the stairs to your porch. You unlocked the door to your house, swinging it open so Nick could bring Louie inside.

            “Where’s his bedroom?” Nick whispered. You pointed to your hallway, “Last door on the left.”

            Locking the door behind you, you placed your keys & Louie’s basket of candy onto a counter in the kitchen before trailing down the hallway to his room. Inside, you found Nick gently tucking your son into bed. He was well asleep at that point. You smiled elatedly at the sight. It was a sight you had never seen before: a grown man putting your Lou to bed. It brought you more comfort than you thought possible.

            Nick tiptoed out of the room & you pulled Lou’s door closed until only a crack was left.

            Following Nick back into the main room, you grinned up at him, “You’re my hero.”

            “Oh?” Nick raised a single brow, “Why’s that?”

            “He adores you.” You nodded, “I remember after his first day of school he talked about how the principle came to his class to play games with the kids & get to know them. Of course, he doesn’t understand yet that you’re my boss, so he spoke about you like I had never met you before. You’ve made an impression on him ever since.”

            “I could say the same thing about him.” Nick returned.

            “Thank you again, for everything.”

            Nick approached you, smiling down at you, “This better mean you’ll stop referring to me as Principle Bentley at work.”

            You rolled your eyes playfully at that, “We’ll see.”

            He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously but chuckled nonetheless, “Well, I better get outta your hair, let you get some rest.”

            You nodded, seeing him to the door. When you unlocked it, Nick stepped out, but before either of you could verbalize a parting, he turned back to you, “And thanks for the date. I enjoyed it.”

            “Me, too.” You admitted, unable to hide your smile.

            Then Nick crossed back to you, leaning down slightly to kiss your cheek, returning your affection from earlier, “I’ll see you Monday.”

            “See you.”

            Closing the door as he descended your stairs, you relocked the door before finally kicking your shoes off. It had been a long day. You were looking forward to winding down in bed with your recent Kindle purchase before dozing off. Turning off the lights in the front room, you grabbed a couple pieces of candy from Lou’s basket before retreating to your room, sure to leave the door cracked this time now that Lou was home. Unlike when you closed the door for your nap earlier, you never kept your door closed as Lou slept, always wanting to hear if any sounds came from his room.

            Getting undressed & into pj’s, you slipped under the covers of your bed, pulling your Kindle out from your nightstand. Settling against your pillow, you began reading the text but it wasn’t long before you felt your eyelids begin to droop. Then, before you knew it, you slipped into slumber.

            A floorboard creaking somewhere in your house woke you with a start. It was dark in your bedroom as you wiped the sleep from your eyes. You moaned at your stiff muscles, having fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position for your neck. Your eyes flashed to your nightstand. The clock flashed 2:24 a.m.

            Your mouth was dry again, & you had forgotten to bring a glass of water to bed. Slipping out of bed, you exited your room. You stopped in the hallway to peek into Louie’s room. He slept soundlessly still in his bed. Closing his door most of the way once more, you trailed quietly down your hallway to the kitchen.

            Once in the kitchen, you approached the cabinets by the sink. You had pulled one open, preparing to reach for a glass, but a sight outside the window above your sink caught your eye. And when you realized what you were looking at, your breath caught in your throat. Nick’s car. It was still parked out front. But more horrifying than that was what lied just beyond it. Across the street, parked in front of your neighbor’s house, was Mr. Acosta’s beloved Chevy.

Before you had time to react, a hand fisting itself in your hair yanked you backwards. A scream about ripped from your throat, but a gloved hand quickly clamped over your mouth before it could.

            Panicked tears erupted from your eyes as you felt yourself being dragged backwards, the soles of your slippers failing to catch themselves on the hardwood. You struggled against the strong grasp of the arm that was wrapped around your middle as they yanked you back down the hallway towards your bedroom.

            You didn’t need to see them to know who it was. All day, your paranoia had been trying to warn you but you didn’t listen, & then when you did start to listen to it, Nick had reasoned it out of you.

            The force threw you onto your bed & you bounced haphazardly atop it before the room flooded with light.

            All of the nightmares you had had in the last five years were occurring before your very eyes. And the man that caused them was glaring at you through the slits of a hockey mask. The same eyes your son had.

            “Boo.” If the eyes of your ex wasn’t enough of a give away as to who wore the spooky mask, the hollowed out voice behind it was.

            He was here.

            Rafe had found you.

            It took all off your strength & will to not scream in that very instance. Lou was sleeping safe & sound less than twenty feet away from you, totally unaware of the dangers in his home, you wanted it to remain that way. But damn it all to hell if you didn’t fear for your life at that very second.

            Fear racked your body & panic ensnared your heart as Rafe Cameron, the ex you had ran out on with his unborn child in your tummy, stood before you.

            Tense silence filled the room, save for the sound of your shuddering breaths. Tears blurred your vision as you stared wide-eyed in horror.

            Rafe was breathing heavily, his chest moving almost in perfect time with your own. Your eyes fell to his hand, the glint of a familiar looking knife catching in the light.

            He had been here all along. From the beginning. The cat store, Mr. Acosta’s truck, Lou’s stabbed pumpkin, & the man in the mask who stared at you on the street. All of it Rafe. All of it your past finally catching up to you.

            “Rafe…” You shakily cried.

            He cocked his head, the mask only adding more fuel to your nightmare. And though the mask kept his face hidden, you knew well enough that the man behind the mask was carrying a face full of fury. It was a face you never forgot.

            He raised a single gloved finger then, wiggling it slowly at you. Then he brought that same finger to the mouth of the mask. Shh, he was telling you.

            Tears burst from your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from whimpering out loud.

            Don’t make him angry, do as he says. Lou is depending on you.

            But images of Lou sleeping in his bed just down the hallway flooded your mind. Rafe was blocking the door. You wouldn’t have a chance to slip by him & race down there, & even if you did, you’d lead him right to your son. If you did that, there was no saying what he would do next, but you knew Rafe Cameron was capable of deadly things, & you were determined to keep your son ignorant to that.

            It took every amount of restraint you could muster up not to run for your son, to shield him from the devil that snuck into your home. You kept a baseball bat hidden beneath your pillows. It had always been there, & only on rare occasions in the past did you feel the need to bring it out when something went bump in the night. But those bumps always turned out to be nothing. This wasn’t nothing. It was time to really use it.

            Rafe only remained standing before you, his tall & solid frame filling the space of your room like a sleep paralysis dream. Though he wore a thick jacket to keep warm, you could see that he had grown over the years. He had always been tall, towering over you, but he was slender as well. Not anymore, though. It was obvious that he had gotten into the habit of working, adding muscles to his already destructive strength.

            Swallowing the scream that desperately wanted to erupt from you, you kept your voice hush as you spoke, needing to distract him with your words as you very slowly, very subtly inched your fingers towards your pillows.

            “What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, you, especially as well as he, both knew why he was there. But you didn’t care. Just keep his mind distracted.

            But he said nothing, just shook his head once.

            You breathed heavily & sharply, your fingers managing to have slid under your pillow without drawing his attention, desperately seeking out the cool, metal touch of the bat.

            “You shouldn’t have come here.” Your voice shook as you spoke, “You should’ve let me go.”

            But Rafe exhaled heavily at that.

            A relieved, quiet gasp parted your lips when your fingers finally found the bat, fiercely gripping the handle of the weapon.

            Dropping your eyes to the open door behind him, you frowned, “Lou?”

            Rafe turned around at that, expecting to see your son standing in the doorway, but it was only a fake-out.

            Gritting your teeth, you yanked the baseball bat & raised it above you, quickly rushing to your feet to stand atop your bed.

            You let out a war cry as you swung the bat downwards, aiming straight for Rafe’s skull. But he spun around in time to duck. The full weight of your swing made you stumble & one of your feet slipped off the bed. You clambered harshly to the wooden floor, your grip on the bat still tight, but Rafe snatched you by the back of your neck, ripping you upwards. You blindly swung the bat a second time but you felt a force catch the other end before tearing it from your grasp.

            “No!” You cried out as Rafe threw against your dresser, a picture of you & Lou toppling over in the impact.

            You threw yourself back, crab-crawling backwards as Rafe marched towards you, now your bat in one hand, his knife in the other.

            “Rafe, don’t!” You screeched once you felt the wall against your back. But he only continued moving towards you. As he did, he tucked his knife away & raised the bat.

            Fear choked you as you watched your own weapon of defense prepared to be used on you. You raised your arms, readying yourself to protect your face & head from the blow. Your eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the whisper of air as the bat swung before reaching you…but it never came.

            Breathing fearfully, you fluttered your eyes open.

            The room was empty. Rafe was nowhere in sight.

            “Lou.” Your voice shook with the realization.

            You threw yourself forward onto your feet, getting ready to race after Rafe, but just before you reached the doorway, Rafe appeared again filling the space with his large frame. But he wasn’t alone.

            To your horror, he had another before him, on their knees.

            Duct tape was wrapped securely around Nick’s face, his mouth & most of his nose covered to suppress his grunts. His forehead was swollen & bleeding, evident of him having been attacked by a deadly force. Nick was unable to fight back, as his hands too were securely taped before him.

            A shocked gasp left you as you backed up, taking in the nightmarish sight.

            Rafe entered the room, pushing Nick forward until he fell face-down onto your floor. Nick groaned on impact before struggling to roll himself over onto his back. It was then that you noticed his legs were taped at the ankle.

            Fresh tears breached your eyes as you peered at one of your only friends in the neighborhood. You made to move closer, to shield Nick from Rafe but as you did, you felt the cool touch of your bat catch the underside of your chin. Your eyes trailed the length of it until it led you to Rafe’s hand & arm, thus his face.

            He shook his head once.

            Shaking, you backed away as Rafe stepped closer.

            Nick, the whole time, trying to speak but his words were unable to be made out behind the tape. His flashing between you & your ex with a mixture of fear & anger.

            “Don’t hurt him.” You begged, “He has nothing to do with this. Please, just let him go, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

            Rafe sighed at that, his head cocking at your plea.

            “Please, Rafe.” You whimpered, snot running from your nose, “I’ll do anything.”

            His silence only added to your terror. He wanted you to suffer.

            “You’ll watch.” Was all he said. And before you could absorb what he had said, Rafe moved to stand over Nick & raised the bat.

            “No!” But your scream died in your throat as Rafe brought the bat down on Nick’s skull.

            Cries & choked sobs erupted from you as you watched on in horror as Rafe repeatedly bashed Nick’s face & skull in. You were forced to look away when blood spurted across your face & chest as Nick quickly became unrecognizable.

            You covered your mouth as hot tears fell from your eyes & over your hands. Your room was filled with the gruesome sounds of the bat repeatedly making impact with what was once Nick. Squelching of brain matter & the crushing of bones filled your years & you felt bile rise in your throat. A pool of blood threatened to cake the soles of your feet as it grew bigger, forcing you to pull your knees to your chest.

            The ghastly sounds stopped after another minute & by then you were numb to everything that was happening. Your body still shook, your mouth hung open in a silent scream, but you were no longer crying. Just staring dizzily at your headboard.

            A metallic thud sounded & your eyes betrayed you as you sought the sound out. Your bat rolled towards you, all of it covered in a deep, thick red color, chunks of brain, flesh, & bone texturizing it.

            A gag forced it’s way from your mouth & you crawled away from the monstrous sight, unable to look at what Rafe had done. But as you did, you felt Rafe eyeing you from the opposite side of your room. Before you could react, Rafe climbed on top of your, ensnaring you by the back of your head as he dragged you back over the bed. You thought he would’ve stopped there, but your horrors were only reignited when you dropped to the floor & were dragged into the hallway. Towards Louie’s room.

            “No!” You yelped but Rafe quickly swung you around to his front, covering your mouth. You smelled the scent of blood on his glove as he kept you quiet, knowing good & well that Nick’s blood was now caking your face.

            You fought against Rafe as he yanked you closer to your sons room, terrified that he would do to him what he had just done to Nick. At this point, you didn’t care if Louie woke up, if he woke to the sight & sound of you crying & screaming & fighting against the man from your dreams, thus shattering his childhood. You just needed him to run. Run as far as he could as you once did.

            Once in the room, Rafe forced you to face your sleeping son, none the wiser to the danger approaching. You whimpered & thrashed against Rafe, trying every which way to elbow him or knock your head back into his but his strength greatly outmatched yours. It always had.

            Rafe paused in the center of the room, crushing your back against your front as he secured you around the waist. He removed his hand from your mouth, but before you could scream a blood-curdling cry to alert your son, Rafe had swiftly produced the knife he carried & pressed the briny edge of it to your throat.

            The plastic of the mask moved against your ear, “Don’t scream. Or he’ll scream.”

            The threat was apparent. Your horrors were coming true. Everything you had fought for for so long were crumbling around you.

            “Don’t.” You gasped, desperately reaching to cling to Rafe’s arm.

            Your plea only forced the Rafe to press the knife harsher against your throat. Even you could feel your heartbeat pulsing against it. One swipe & Rafe would end your life before surely ending that of your sons. In a last ditch effort to save your sons life, you revealed the truth that Rafe needed to know.

            “He’s your son.” Sobs racked your body as the words parted your lips. “Our son.”

            Rafe stiffened behind you.

            “Are you going to tell him?” Your mother asked you as she helped you pack one of your go-bags for the great escape.

            “No.” You responded despondently, “If he knows I’m on the run with his unborn kid, he’ll stop at nothing, he’ll hurt anyone I love just to get to me.” You knew good & well that he would still do that, but he wouldn’t be in as such a rush otherwise.

            Your mother nodded in understanding. But her hands shook fearfully as she folded your clothes before handing them to you.

            “Are you going to go through with the pregnancy?” It was a question you asked yourself every day. “I love you, baby, I only want you safe. A kid will slow you down.”

            “I know.” You muttered in agreement, “I haven’t decided yet. I just need to get away first before I do anything.”

            “You’d deliver the baby alone.” She commented. Another thought that kept you awake at night. “We wouldn’t be there to hold your hand.”

            You nodded, tears threatening to fall. Though you were still on the fence about whether or not you’d fulfill the pregnancy, you were leaning towards terminating it. Being on the run was no life for a child. And, your mother was right, the kid would only slow you down if Rafe ever caught up to you.

            Your mother’s quiet sobs drew your attention. She had a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her cries.

            “I’m so sorry, baby.” She peered at you through her tears, “We never wanted this life for you.”

            You hugged your mother, & she you. Tightly, lovingly. You burrowed your face into her neck, savoring the form of affection. You didn’t know how long it would be until you ever felt it again, if ever.

            “There’s always adoption.”

            Rafe had tucked the knife away, but kept you quiet by grasping the column of your throat, your air restricted. He continued holding you just like that as he slowly approached your son, his son. He stood just beside Louie’s bed, his knees pressed against the bedframe as he leaned over to peer at the child’s serene, sleeping face.

            You felt as Rafe shuddered before you, his arm outstretched with you on the other end as he kept you at distance from your son.

            “My son…” Rafe’s voice was filled with wonder.

            Tears continued to fall from your eyes, dripping onto Rafe’s wrist where the skin was exposed between the glove & sleeve of his jacket.

            “Our son.” He whispered, but as he did, the grip on your throat tightened. Black dots filled your vision. Rafe turned away from Lou then, facing you head on, his eyes blazing behind the mask.

            You kept him from me.

            His fury was palpable. You tried to breathe, to speak, but Rafe only continued to claw his fingers into your throat.

            Then he began to back you out of the room fast. Your were unable to catch your grounding as your feet tangled beneath you. Before you knew it, you were back in the hallway, your back pressed harshly against a wall as Rafe used the wall to lift you off the floor, your toes wiggling.

            You latched your hands onto his arm, using every bit of strength you had left to try & fight him off.

            Rafe glared at you hard through the slits of his mask, his eyes red, watering, filled with betrayal, contempt, & murderous intent.

            “We could have been a family.” Rafe breathed out harshly, his grip tightening more than you thought possible. Your vision swayed.

            “You took that from me.” Rafe spit from behind the mask.

            “Plea—” You choked, the lining of your vision beginning to darken. Your muscles were loosening. Death awaited you. But Lou needed you.

            Then Rafe brought his other hand to your throat & squeezed. You thrashed weakly until you felt your consciousness begin to slip. Rafe’s hands around your neck were the last thing you felt before you stopped fighting, your body going limp.

            “He’s my family now.”

            A cry tore from your throat as doctors & nurses alike rushed around you. A stinging, hot pain shot up your spine as you felt your insides contort & cramp within you. Your legs were splayed open, blood staining the white sheets that kept you from seeing what happening down below.

            “She’s losing blood!” A voice yelled.

            “Get the baby out!” Another responded.

            “We’re gonna lose both!”

            Tears erupted from your eyes, blurring your vision as you clung to the sheets of the hospital bed, your throat raw from screaming.

            Another pinch & you screamed again, sweat coating your face.

            And then cries filled the room, Lively cries of a baby having been born. You collapsed against the mattress, your body weak.

            “Baby’s out, we got him, he’s okay!”

            You felt your vision go in & out, but you reached your hand out blindly in search of your child.

            “It’s a boy.” A soft voice neared you. Cries continued to fill the room, but they grew closer to you.

            “It’s your boy.” A nurse appeared in your vision as it swayed.

            In her arms, she held something small as it wriggled about in her arms. A single hand stuck out in search of something.

            Then your fingers touched, & the small yet mighty grip of the child clung to your index finger.

            A weak smile crossed your lips, “Louie.”

            But your hand fell as you felt your heart rate slow.

            “We’re losing her!”

            “Louie.” You whispered, his name like a dream on your tongue.

            A gasp choked you awake & you shot forward. Tears coated your cheeks & you were breathing heavily. You winced at the burning, raw sensation within your throat.

            The room, your room, was filled with morning sunlight. Your eyes flashed fearfully around the room. You were still in your home.

            Lou!

            Launching yourself forward, you halted to peer at the floor near the foot of your bed. It was empty. No body, no blood, no bat.

            You frowned. It wasn’t a dream, though. You touched your fingers to your neck, the skin tender as you did.

            He had been here, he had!

            Racing out of your room, you stumbled down the hallway to your son’s room, “Louie!” You screeched, despite the pain it caused you as you did, your throat burning in response.

            But your fears were instilled as you charged into your son’s room to find his bed empty.

            “Louie, baby!” You cried, retreating from his room & tumbling down the hallway, “Baby, where are you?!”

            At the mouth of the hallway, you halted, eyeing your son at the counter bar. His back was to you as he ate pieces of candy from his pumpkin basket.

            “Louie!” You released a relieved cry & approached him. But before you could reach him, another figure appeared in the corner of your eye.

            Rafe rested against a counter opposite your son, a mug of coffee in his hands. He was barren of any mask or clothes from the night prior. He grinned wryly at you, challenging you to attempt anything.

            You eyed him warily, furiously as you continued moving slowly towards your son.

            Lou looked back at you then, a chocolatey smile gracing his youthful features.

            “Morning, Mommy!” He greeted in his cheerful tune.

            Dropping your gaze from Rafe, you peered at your son. Closing the distance, you hugged him to your chest, crying into his hair as you kissed him repeatedly.

            “Don’t be mad. Daddy said I could have candy for breakfast.”

            You shook against your son as you raised your eyes to that of your ex’s.

            “That’s right.” Rafe smirked, crossing the kitchen to where the two of you were. You pressed Lou closer against you, your hands gripping him tightly, ready to shield him from Rafe.

            “And you can have it for lunch & dinner & dessert.” Rafe grinned down at your son, his son.

            “What the fuck do you want?” You sneered, uncaring if Lou heard the fear in your voice.

            Rafe eyed you then, “What we all should want.”

            He peered at your son then, “To be a family.”

            The thought unnerved you.

            “If you don’t get out of my house, I’ll—”

            “Careful.” Rafe cut you off firmly, before casting his eyes to an object on the counter only inches away from his fingers. The knife.

            “Sorry, buddy. Mommy had a bad night.”

            You felt as Louie stared up at you then, “Was it the bad man from your dreams again?”

            Rafe’s eyes stared coldly into your own.

            “Yes, baby.” You replied, your voice shaky.

            “But you’re okay now.” Louie attempting to soothe you as he fingered your hair, “Daddy is here to protect you.”

            His innocence, still intact as grateful as you were, only made you fearful of when Rafe would surely snuff it out.

            “That’s right, Louie.” Rafe peered between the two of you, “Daddy’s home, & we have a lot of catching up to do.”

this is 7/10 requests from my 500 followers celebration request opening!

fuck. that's all i have to say.

big thank you to @namelesslosers for making this fucking AWESOME request, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it, please be sure to share your thoughts w me.

as always! drop a comment, reblog w reviews, or talk to me in my ask box. this is one doozy of a dark fic that has me on edge just waiting for your feedback. so please provide some.

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

taglist: @jsrafesgirl @bunnycvnts @ditzyzombiesblog

to be added to a taglist read rule 11 here. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

[bunnycvnts]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

ik i said sarah isn’t my type but maybe in the context of like…. john b and sarah dating, appearing normal and regular to everyone around them but really they’re a pair of weird perverts, seeking out a sweet innocent girl for them to use like a little toy. they pick up a sweetheart working at the library, shy and lonely and decide she’s the one !! so they befriend her and start to bring her everywhere, getting her used to their copious amounts of affection that they play off as platonic… john b constantly putting an arm around your waist or stroking the back of your head which makes you nervously glance to sarah, not wanting to be disrespectful but she’s already gazing at you with that thinly veiled excitement and encouragement.

sarah is touchier than john b, knowing you’ll likely think nothing of it if it’s another girl. she doesn’t even know if you like girls like that, and you feel totally ashamed at the way your cunt clenches and gets all sticky when she jokingly grabs at your tits infront of everyone or smacks your ass, telling you to stop hiding that ‘pretty ass’ from her. you figure this is just how they are with their friends. open and affectionate— it’s only when the two invite you to a sleepover you suspect they might have been concocting something all along.

it gets onto the topic of sex, and you’re shameful to admit that you’ve never done anything like that before — coming from a very strict, perhaps religious family. sarah is still playing bestie-bestie with you, grabbing you to say “wait, hold on. you’re telling me you’ve never even made out with a guy? okay, you’re missing out. john b come here.” the two of them ushering you onto his lap. you feel nervous, like you’re being disrespectful once more and she simply reassures you, kissing your shoulder and telling you in your ear that it’s “—fine, babe. i’m right here so it’s not even weird.”

the night progresses, and doesn’t stop progressing until you’re totally nude, laying against sarah who encourages you as you take all of john b’s length, the man above you slowly grinding his cock inside you inch by inch as you wince, clenching hard around what he’s feeding you slowly. sarah is right there for you, starting off by simply holding your hand, sharing giggles with you. giggles that turn into kisses, that turn into her sucking on your tits and rubbing at your clit whilst her boyfriend fucks you.

john b is super sweet about it too as you can imagine. “hey, we’d never make you do anything you don’t wanna do. yeah?” brow all creased in genuine concern as he takes his turn to thumb at your clit. you’re split open around him, watery eyes glancing between the two to shake your head.

“feels really good.” you hiccup, and the couple share a chuckle together.

“thaaat, i figured. you’re like… incredibly wet. it’s amazing.”

so do we fw that or no .

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

[bunnycvnts]

watch and learn (part ten) (end)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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When you both get to your door, Rafe is kissing you like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You’re giggling between kisses as his big, warm hands cradle your jaw, your heart feeling weightless.

He can’t let go of you. This is such a new, addictive feeling. Liking a girl this much. Knowing she likes him back. Wanting to take on the responsibility of a relationship, something that used to repel him.

You both decide to spend the night in Rafe’s room. You text Liv that you’re home as you get ready for bed, the high from the drugs leaving your body and being replaced by a heavy fatigue.

When you walk into Rafe’s dorm, he recognizes the pajamas you were wearing the night you met. You watch his eyes travel down your body in a smirk before you turn off the lights.

“What?” you ask, hand on the light-switch, gazing at him as he sits up in his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“I remember those,” he mumbles. “You yelled at me in those.”

“Yelled?” you scoff. “I didn’t yell.”

“You gave me so much attitude.” You roll your eyes with a smile, flipping the switch and plunging the room in darkness.

You feel your way to his bed, sinking on top of him, head digging into the crook of his neck.

“Only because you were so rude,” you respond. “Maybe you deserve attitude.”

“What else do I deserve?” Rafe asks, his hands dragging up your back, eyelids heavy. You chuckle and shift to lie on your side and rest your head on his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat.

You close your eyes, arm draped over him, cupping a hand around his hip, rubbing your thumb over his skin.

He has never been touched like this. Affection just for the sake of affection. It’s unlike anything else.

“You deserve anything you want,” you say sleepily. You mean it.

Rafe’s not sure if that’s true. But all he wants is you, endlessly and with no conditions. And he’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you.

He doesn’t know why he ever denied himself the pleasure of spending his first moments awake with you in his arms. Last time you woke up together, he was relieved you rushed out of his room. Now, he just might lose his mind if you leave.

You’re loosely tethered together, your leg over his, your cheek against his shoulder. His chin is resting on your head and he fights the impulse to hug you tighter, not wanting to wake you up.

You start to stir a few minutes later, burrowing against his shoulder, smelling the familiar, perfect aroma of his skin.

“Knew you liked cuddling,” you tease, voice thick with fatigue. Rafe’s chuckle is so innocent that it makes your cheeks warm. You’re in disbelief that last night happened.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Dunno,” he says with a grunt, shifting to grab his phone from his dresser. “I didn’t wanna check and wake you up.”

“Wow,” you coo. “You’re already doing a great job as a boyfriend.”

The word makes his heart leap.

“You remember last night, huh?” he asks. Truthfully, he was a bit worried you were too high to recall everything you said.

“Did you want me to forget?” you say.

“Not a fucking chance.” He unlocks his phone to check the time, but a text from an hour ago takes all his attention.

Sam: yo wtf happened? you trying to get kicked out??

You turn to get comfortable, the side you were lying on aching now, your back flush against his torso.

“The time?” you say tiredly. Rafe turns to spoon you, lips pressing against the back of your head.

He doesn’t know how to say it. He’s pissed off beyond belief at himself for how he acted last night. So he just shows you. He holds his phone in front of you and your eyes travel over the text.

You think back to how frantic Rafe was last night outside of the house after shoving Blake. You don’t know much about fraternities, but getting aggressive like he did against a brother last night seems like a big deal.

It’s his fault for losing his cool, but you can’t help but feel bad for him, knowing he was fuelled by jealousy and protectiveness and insecurity. Nonetheless, he couldn’t control his temper and the consequences might be rough.

“It’s fixable, right?” you say, hopefully. You heard Blake say he was done, but he can’t really be done, can he?

Rafe sighs and puts his phone away, then drapes a heavy arm over your waist.

“Doubt it,” he says bitterly. Your heart aches. At first, you thought frats were just an excuse to party, but you can see how much joy it brings Rafe to be part of something. And now it might be taken away.

“What if you talk to him?” you say. “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“I’m not…” Rafe sighs. He’s never been great at talking things out.

“What?” you ask.

“I don’t know what I’d say,” he admits. And the thought of grovelling to Blake to not go to the president of the frat, if he hasn’t already, is humiliating.

“You’d say what you’re thinking,” you say simply. “You did it with me and look how nice that worked out.”

Rafe smiles, glad you can offer him some relief while he’s so flustered.

“Real nice,” he says lazily, his hand sliding down over your hip. His fingers slip under the elastic of your pajama bottoms, dropping to press over your panties.

“Hey,” you breathe. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” His voice reverberates through you as he runs two fingers up and down your middle, the pressure firm and sweet.

“Avoiding your feelings,” you say, breath hitching, “and trying to distract me.”

“Maybe I just wanna touch you,” he rasps, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a finger against your entrance. You tremble under the tender touch.

“I’m being serious,” you say.

“So am I.” His pulse quickens as he feels how warm and soft you are, trailing up to your clit and massaging you slowly.

“Rafe,” you try to assert yourself, but your body naturally tilts towards his touch.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Talk about it,” you say. “Tell me what you were thinking.” Your mind replays how angry he looked last night, how harsh and loud his tone was with a man he thought mistreated you.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, shifting to kiss and suck on your neck. “I was thinking that it killed me to imagine someone else doing this to you…” He’s slow with every circle he traces. “Making you feel like this.”

“Only you can make me feel like this,” you whisper. He exhales deeply. You know just how to wind him up.

“Yeah?” he says. You feel him growing against you. You bite your lip, realizing just how much he loves praise, surely taking every bit he can get with more appreciation that he can show. “No more pointers, huh?”

“None,” you say. “You know exactly what to do.”

Rafe loves that you’re so vocal now, partly because the compliments go straight to his head, but mostly because it means you’re not shy or ashamed about your own pleasure anymore.

He lowers his hand to tease your cunt again, feeling how much you’ve pooled for him.

“So wet for me,” he whispers, his cock starting to ache. “How’d I get you all to myself?”

You breathe through your smile, understanding now that all of Rafe’s words during sex before couldn’t have just been great dirty talk.

You had no idea he was yearning for you this badly. That his jealousy wasn’t only carnal like you told yourself it was.

“I want you inside me,” you say. Rafe groans against your skin, savoring the feeling of being so wanted. You’ve seen him at his worst and still desire all of him. He’s waiting to wake up from the dream that’s you.

You help him push down your bottoms, feeling him shuffle to pull himself out of his boxers. You hike up your leg and feel his hand at the back of your knee, holding you up.

When he pushes into you, your flesh like velvet, he feels complete like he always does with you.

Rafe’s rhythm is slow as he fucks you from behind, the tension in you coiling at a sweet, gentle pace.

“Right there,” you sigh as he hits deep with every thrust. “That’s so good.”

You pull his big hand up to your mouth, kissing the back of it softly. Rafe is on another planet. He thought fucking you was already perfect, but doing it with your hearts so open instead of just your bodies is mind-blowing.

“My sweet girl,” he groans. “You want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m yours.” Once your words hit his ears, he hugs you tighter, squeezing you with pure adoration as he rocks in and out of you slowly.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, lips wet against your shoulder. “I’m yours, too, baby.”

He fills you so nicely, moving like he has all the time in the world.

You’re both in raptures of delight as you cum, warm bodies pressed hard together, existing in a perfect moment made just for you two.

You fall back asleep and he dozes off behind you, dazed.

It’s almost noon when you stir awake again. Rafe is on his phone, scrolling quietly, waiting for you to wake up. You give him a smile as you pull yourself out of his bed and adjust your bottoms.

“Haven’t you heard of aftercare?” he teases, saying it in the same tone you did the night of the beach party. You laugh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles.

You pretend to sigh out of irritation, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

“There. A-plus?”

“Not even a pass,” Rafe replies.

“Next time,” you quip. “I’m gonna get ready and then let’s get some food? That’s something couples do, just so you know.”

He loves hearing refer to you two as a couple.

Not many places on-campus are open on Sundays, so after you both get dressed, Rafe drives you to a popular restaurant in town.

As you expected, it’s effortless with him. You both intertwine jokes into your flowing conversations, eyes locked on each other, cheeks hurting from how much you’re smiling.

Rafe didn’t know it could be this easy with someone. Neither did you.

He picks up the bill and holds your hand as you walk back to the car. He rushes to open the door for you, making you laugh in endearment.

“The boyfriend stuff comes naturally to you,” you say, lowering onto the passenger side seat. You don’t see him look shy very often, but when he lowers his eyes and smirks, you can tell the compliment means something to him.

When Rafe starts the car and passes you his phone to pick a song, you choose the first one he played in his room the night of the dorm party.

“Oh, you liked this one?” he teases once the first few notes float out of the speakers, thinking back to the way he had you moaning on his desk.

“I bet I knew it before you,” you reply.

“Couples have… like, songs, right?” Rafe asks awkwardly, putting his hand on your thigh.

“Aw, you want this to be our song?” you coo. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” he laughs.

You put his phone down, eyes trailing over his profile. He squeezes your thigh. For someone who was so against affection, Rafe seems to love it.

You wonder why he restricted himself from what he seems to have wanted for so long, but when you remember how afraid he seemed of fucking things up last night, you realize he has a bit of a self-sabotaging streak when it comes to expressing himself.

“Did you text Sam back?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply.

“Do you want to stop at the house to talk to Blake?”

Rafe just stares ahead, biting the inside of his cheek.

“The longer you wait, the weirder it’ll be,” you say gently. He swallows hard. He knows you’re right.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna say,” he admits after a moment.

“You regret what happened last night, right?”

“Yeah.” He’s still embarrassed that he snapped at Blake over something he didn’t even do.

“Start there,” you say. ”Apologize. Just be honest.”

Rafe drops you off at your dorm, feeling awkward as hell when he drives to the frat house and faces Blake. Thankfully, Blake hasn’t gone to the president with what happened.

Taking your advice, Rafe tells him the truth about how started losing his head when he started losing you. He’d rather die than have to be open with someone he’s been holding animosity over for so long, but Blake seems to appreciate it.

Thankfully, Blake agrees that he doesn’t need to be kicked out for a drunken push, especially since he came to apologize the next day. Rafe has you to thank for that.

“Gossip spreads fast but I’ll say it was a misunderstanding if anyone asks,” Blake says as he walks Rafe out of the house. “Don’t forget about the code of conduct, man.”

Even though Rafe knows he should be grateful he’s not being kicked out, he still has to stifle an eye roll.

“So, we good?” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” Blake says. “You’re volunteering this weekend, right?”

Rafe’s been dreading the fundraising carwash. He thought he could fly under the radar and get away from a day of labor in the sun, but he can’t really say no to anything with being a first-year pledge. Especially now that he just narrowly escaped being kicked out of the frat.

Rafe agrees to participate. And when he tells you about it, you’re much more thrilled about it than he is.

“So, you’re going to be all wet and soapy?” you say with a grin, sitting on your bed together after Rafe gets back from the house and tells you what happened.

“I can get like that now if you want,” he mumbles. You laugh, the memory of hooking up with him in the shower still fresh in your mind.

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught yesterday,” you say. “You wanna almost get kicked out of here, too?”

Rafe smiles, leaning in to kiss you. When you pull apart, you look at him for a moment, eyes tracing down his handsome features.

“I’m really happy it worked out,” you say. It would have crushed you to watch him lose his spot in his frat, knowing how happy it makes him.

Rafe loses all concentration when he sees the sincerity in your eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever known someone so sweet.

“That formal thing is coming up,” he says once he catches himself, looking down at your lips again.

“If you’re not going to be wet and soapy, I’m not interested,” you respond. Truthfully, you love the idea of seeing him in a suit.

“You’re annoying,” Rafe laughs, shuffling closer to kiss you again.

“You’re annoying,” you reply, your noses bumping. “It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance, right? Girls ask the guys?”

“Go with me,” he says, breath hot on your cheek.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” you laugh. “Girls ask-”

“I don’t care.”

“I was going to ask you.” Your faces remain inches away from each other, talking between kisses.

“Then do it if you really want to.”

“Do you want to go-”

“Yeah,” Rafe interrupts, kissing you again. You giggle against his lips.

That Saturday afternoon, you and Liv are sitting are in her car in front of the Sigma Chi house, the carwash in full swing.

You both laugh when you notice Sam whip a sponge at the side of the car in front of you. You finally find Rafe in the scattered crowd of shirtless boys, baseball hat on backwards, holding a big yellow sponge, wringing it over a bucket.

He looks good. You’ve seen his muscular, commanding body so many times by now, but it excites you every time.

You open your window all the way and catcall him. When Rafe’s gaze meets yours, he smiles. You always look so beautiful to him, your grin so bright.

He walks over to the car, hands on the frame, leaning low to meet your eyes.

“Need some help?” you tease. “You seem to be struggling.” Rafe gazes down your body, loving the idea of seeing you drenched in the short dress you’re wearing.

“No flirting on the clock, dude,” Sam shouts, approaching the car, bending to smile at Liv through her open window. “It’s only okay if I do it.”

In retaliation, Rafe holds your face in his wet hands, kissing you. The gesture earns a few suggestive shouts from his frat brothers.

“We’re supposed to be working, Rafe,” Sam jeers. Rafe flips him off.

“You might wanna roll up the window, baby,” Rafe says quietly to you. “You can hang out in front of the house after.”

You and Liv are in hysterics as the boys hose down and sponge Liv’s car, some of them pressing their bodies up against the windows.

After the show, Liv parks down the street and you two sit on the front steps of the frat house, talking and watching the action. You stare at Rafe the entire time, noticing how girls in cars smile and try to flirt with him.

About ten minutes later, Rafe approaches you, greeting you and Liv. You already caught her up on everything that happened between you and Rafe and she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“What’s up?” you say.

“Need a break.” He adjusts his hat, his wet skin glistening in the sunshine. Truthfully, he just wants to talk to you.

“Does pretending to clean cars make you tired?” you ask.

“Pretending?” Rafe scoffs. “I’m working my ass off.”

“I’m gonna go say hi to Sam,” Liv says with a smile, purposely giving you two privacy. Rafe takes her spot when she leaves, sitting next to you on the steps, his leg pressed up against yours.

“I saw you staring,” he says smugly, nudging your knee with his.

“How could I not?” you say. Rafe feels his cheeks flush with heat. He’s still getting used to the fact that you want him. Really want him.

You notice his eyes trail up your legs, and just to tease him, you drag your hands over your thighs, pinching the hemline of your dress.

“You like my dress?” you ask. You watch Rafe’s jaw tighten as he leans closer to you.

“You’re making me hard,” he mumbles. Your entire body goes hot, looking down at his lap, imagining how good he always feels inside of you.

“We should do something about it,” you say. Your own boldness doesn’t surprise you anymore. Thanks to Rafe, you’re no longer shy asking for what you want.

“Everybody’s outside,” he says, eyes darting to the empty house behind you. You excitedly take his hand.

Rafe leads you to the large, quiet rec room downstairs, and his hands are immediately all over you, sunkissed skin pressing against yours.

He settles on the loveseat, guiding you to straddle him, your dress up around your hips.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this,” he says gruffly, sliding his hands over your ass.

“What? It’s hot out,” you say.

“You gonna keep acting all shy and innocent?”

You perch up to feel his hard length over his shorts. You start to stroke over the fabric, gripping tight.

“Yeah, like that,” he praises. “My good girl. Tell me what you wanna do.”

“I wanna ride you,” you say.

“Fuck,” Rafe grunts with a lazy smile. He kisses you passionately, fingers burying into the flesh of your ass as you grind on him, growing wetter.

The feeling of his hard cock rubbing against you is overwhelming, making you ache for him. Your hands are fast and shaky as you sit up to peel your panties off, watching him pull his shorts down.

He holds himself at his base for you to easily sink onto him, lowering with a sharp inhale. He dips his head back, moaning quietly, eyes squeezing shut.

The brim of his hat pushes against the back of the couch, frustrating him. He pulls it off, and instead of tossing it away, he decides to put it on your head.

“Hold this for me,” he says with a smirk, cradling your cheek.

“You’re never getting it back.” You arch your back as you start to roll your hips, your hands on his shoulders. Your pussy squeezes him so nicely, walls tight around him.

“Damn,” he shudders, watching you, thinking about how cute you look with his hat on and your face relaxed in pleasure. “I’ll give you anything you fucking want.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “All I want is you.”

The words make his heart beat even faster.

“You have me,” Rafe promises breathily. “You have me, baby.”

Your lips meet again as you rock and bounce on him, tight around his girth, head spinning from how big he is and how deep he reaches.

Your hands squeeze his shoulders tightly as you reach your peak. You keep riding him through the overstimulation, taking the help from him as he grips your ass and controls the pace.

Rafe’s breaths quickly grow shallow, panting in your ear as he bucks into you, pulsing through his orgasm.

You sit like that, joined together and kissing for a few minutes, before you pull apart and share a smile.

Throughout the next week leading up to the Sadie Hawkins dance, Rafe texts you random questions, asking you to name your favorite flowers, your favorite sweets, your favorite meal, your favorite drink.

Once he seems to be out of questions, you text him: wow… you sure you havent been a boyfriend before?

The message makes him so proud that he screenshots it.

The night of the formal, Rafe knocks a few minutes before the time you agreed he’d pick you up. You slip into your heels, smooth down your dress and open the door.

You’re striking. There’s no other word for it. The fact that you’re his sends him on a bit of a mental spiral.

“Early,” you tease. “Someone’s eager.” You notice how nicely he fills out his suit, how pretty the bouquet in his hand is.

He can’t tease you back. He can’t say anything. You’re stunning.

“You look so handsome,” you beam. “Are those for me or are you gonna hold them all night?”

Rafe holds your favorite flowers out to you with an awestruck smile.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly.

“Baby, you…” Rafe shakes his head. “I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, putting down the flowers away and taking his hand as you leave your room.

As promised, Rafe won’t stop touching you all night. You’re seated at one of many draped tables amongst frat brothers and their dates.

Liv is across the table with Sam, taking pictures with him on a Polaroid. They both look just as happy as you assume you and Rafe look.

Rafe’s hand is on your knee under the table, rubbing in circles. You lean in closer to him, mouth by his ear.

“Remember when you had a tantrum about holding my hand?” you joke. “Now look at you.”

“I was an idiot,” he replies. He dips his hand to your inner thigh, trying to guide you to sit on his lap. You give in.

“This is supposed to be a classy event,” you laugh, draping an arm around him, looking around at the massive, ornate banquet hall.

“You guys are so cute that it’s gross,” Liv shouts over the music, holding out her camera. “Smile.”

You roll your eyes at her comment and put up your middle finger, realizing Rafe is doing the same at the moment she takes the photo.

“God, you two were made for each other,” she says, amused. Rafe watches you as you laugh, feeling fortunate that you seem to wholeheartedly agree with your friend.

He’s not one for slow dancing, or dancing at all, but when he later notices you looking out at the floor filled with couples swaying together, he tries to force away his discomfort.

“You want to go out there?” he says. You glance at him, melting under his sweet gaze, noticing just how tense he looks.

“We won’t dance if you don’t want to dance,” you say. While he’s working hard to be a good boyfriend, you want to work just as hard to be a good girlfriend and make sure he’s comfortable.

The way you say your words is enough for him to stand up and take your hand. He doesn’t feel awkward as soon as he’s looking down at you on the dance floor, following your lead and your pace.

When the song ends, you walk back towards the table and notice Blake a few feet away, holding a grinning girl.

You’re glad that he let Rafe stay in the frat even though he could have been kicked out for trying to fight one of his brothers. And you meant it when you said you think he deserves a great girl. He seems happy.

As you sit down, Rafe follows your gaze and when he sees you’re smiling at Blake, a burning, painful jealousy flares deep inside.

He steps away towards the bar, wishing they were serving alcohol. He feels the familiar sensation of his temper bubbling up and his muscles tightening.

It’s been a few minutes without Rafe and you look to the bar to see him standing there alone. Something feels off.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing his forearm when you approach him. Rafe looks down at you with irritation, shoulder squared away from you.

“Hey,” he says flatly.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. Rafe’s lips firm as he glances away, taking a sip of his soda.

Confusion and sadness fill you. You should have figured Rafe’s flaws, like his moodiness, wouldn’t simply go away after making things official, but the sensation he’s giving you is uncomfortable and hard to swallow.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he mutters.

“What?”

“You do,” he says with a sarcastic chuckle. “You obviously do.”

“What are you talking about?”

He finally meets your gaze. This is the Rafe you saw so many times over the past few weeks, pissed off and short-tempered. And he knows by now that you don’t tolerate it.

“Why’d you look at him like that?” he mutters.

“At who?”

“At-” Rafe tenses up even more, shooting daggers across the hall. “At Blake.”

“How did I look at him, hmm?” you say, crossing your arms. “Tell me.”

“You were smiling at him.”

“You wanna know why I was smiling?” you ask. Rafe’s mind resorts to assuming you’ll say you chose wrong and that you wish you were here with Blake instead.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking about how glad I am that he didn’t try to get you kicked out since I know how happy being in a frat makes you,” you explain. “And because it’s nice that he looks happy with that girl. You think I’d smile at the sight of him with another girl if I liked him?”

Rafe steps back, jaw still clenched. For a moment, it feels like he’s still living in the days of agonizingly pining over to you, watching you with another guy.

“You think I don’t get jealous, too?” you say.

“What? When do you-”

“At the carwash. Girls were looking at you all day,” you admit.

“What?” he almost laughs, endeared beneath the pain. He can’t even imagine entertaining another girl.

“Sometimes jealousy comes up in a relationship, Rafe. But this isn’t how you handle it.”

You step away and head towards your seat, frustrated and disappointed.

Rafe finds it hard to come down from his anger, the cruel fear of inadequacy still stinging him. But eventually, he sits down next to you, placing your favorite drink on the table in front of you.

“My bad, okay?” he says, an edge to his tone. You look at him through apprehensive eyes, taking a sip from the cup he gave you.

“You don’t have anything to be jealous of,” you say softly, putting your hand on his under the table.

“I was…” He clears his throat, leaning closer. “I was… thinking that maybe you thought you made the wrong choice.”

The look of pure disbelief on your face calms his racing thoughts. You smile in shock, shaking your head in quick, short jerks.

“The wrong choice was not knocking on your door to tell you to shut up sooner,” you tell him. He looks down at his lap with a small smile.

“Rafe,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“I pick you, okay? Every time. You’re the right choice.”

Rafe’s chest loses its tension. Even in such a loud, crowded hall, you somehow quieted things down for him. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever feel worthy enough for you.

When you make it back to the dorm, you part to get ready for bed. You take the Polaroid Liv gave you out of your purse, smiling at the image of you sitting on Rafe’s lap in formal wear, both of you flipping the camera off with amused smirks.

You tack it onto your wall amongst your other photos. It sums up your playful relationship so well.

Rafe knocks at your door minutes later. At this point, you hardly ever sleep separately.

Within seconds, you’re in your bed, Rafe hovering over you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your face. Your desk lamp is on, offering both of you a dim, warm light to look at each other in.

You taste his toothpaste and smell his cologne as you kiss, feeling like you’re floating every time you’re under him.

Once he has your bra tossed over your chair, his hot mouth is on your chest, tongue playing with the peaks of your breasts.

You rake your fingers through his hair just the way he likes as he sucks languidly, squeezing gently.

“I love that only I get to do this to you,” Rafe rasps. He was staring at you in awe all night, feeling like he’s dreaming knowing you’re his.

“I don’t want anybody else,” you breathe, trembling in anticipation below him.

His eyes are glazed over when he dips his mouth between your legs, savoring your taste. You tremble as his tongue works over your clit, flattening and tracing shapes.

“How does this pussy get sweeter every time, hmm?” he praises. “You taste so fucking good.”

His hands are still on your tits while he eats you out slowly, burying his face in your middle. He’s sucking and licking at a perfect rate, your moans like music to his ears.

You need all of him now, unable to wait any longer.

“Fuck me,” you whimper. “Please.”

He loves it when you beg.

Rafe melts into you, sliding in and out of you with a hard, fast pressure, the sound of your skin slapping filling your small room. You wrap your legs around him, plastered together in delicious harmony.

Your gazes are locked the whole time and you appreciate every feature of his face, from his eyes to his lips.

He’s hard and rough and vigorous as he gets closer, your bed squeaking, his hand cupping your head, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

Your peak comes in shockwaves, uttering his name as you unravel beneath him. His orgasm weaves in with yours, his body tensing before he loosens completely, losing himself in you.

Rafe pulls out and stays hovering over you, propped up on his elbows, while the rest of his body covers you like a blanket. He gazes at you with adoring eyes, revelling in how you look when you’re so pleased.

He feels like an idiot for ever assuming he’d want something solely physical with you. That he wouldn’t want all of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” you laugh. “That was… nothing to be sorry for.”

“Before, when I said I was satisfied,” he says, guilt still eating away at him even though he said it weeks ago. “I lied. I’ll never get enough of you. It…”

“It what?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“It scares the shit out of me. How much I like you.”

The butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Rafe,” you say with a sad smile, placing your hand on his cheek, your heart heavy. “I’m scared, too. But the whole point of this is trusting we won’t hurt each other.”

“What if I keep fucking up like I did tonight?” he mumbles. He’s terrified that he’ll be a victim to his own temper and insecurity forever, eventually driving you away.

“I’m not asking for perfection,” you say. “I’m just asking that you’re direct with me when something’s bothering you. And that you try to fix it when you do fuck up. Because I’m never going to blame you for having feelings. Ever.”

Rafe’s eyelids drop as he looks down at your lips, nodding, half-convinced. You take a deep breath, hoping your next words aren’t too raw.

“That one day, I… I heard you get yelled at… for crying,” you say. Embarrassment pricks his skin and Rafe drops his head, resting his cheek on your sternum, hearing your heartbeat. He can’t look at you.

Your fingers rake into his locks again, heart still aching from overhearing his father’s words.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I only brought it up to tell you that you don’t deserve that. It’s okay to feel things. I know you think it’s weak but it’s not. Has he always done that to you?”

He only nods.

“That’s…” You don’t have the words, disgusted and angry.

“Maybe he’s right. I should man up.”

“Man up? That’s what he tells you? God,” you mutter. “You are a man. That shit is so stupid. I’m so glad I yelled at him.”

Rafe remembers how jarred he was when he saw how pissed off you were, snapping at his father, a man you’ve never met before.

“Nobody’s ever done that for me.” He wanted to tell you this the day it happened, but his jealousy ruined things when you smiled at a text from Blake.

Something in you shatters thinking of Rafe as a young boy, being berated, nobody standing up for him. He must have felt so lonely.

“Well, I’ll keep doing it,” you promise, feeling protective as hell over him.

Rafe didn’t know what having a girlfriend meant. He never expected he’d feel so safe with someone.

“And I’ll fuck up, too, okay?” you say. “And I’ll just buy you more protein powder when I do. That’s like flowers for you, right?”

Rafe chuckles, squeezing your hip.

“You won’t fuck up.”

“I will,” you laugh. “I’m not perfect.”

“Yes, you are,” he mumbles. “Don’t say that shit ever again.”

“You’re kind of setting me up for failure, frat boy,” you joke. He lifts his head to look at you again, his heart racing. Then something catches his eye on your wall.

Rafe can’t find the words when he sees it. It’s the Polaroid of you and him from earlier tonight, flipping the camera off.

He remembers the first night he was in this room, looking at your photos, thinking how pretty you were. And now he’s part of this collection. Part of your life.

“What?” you say.

“The picture,” he says.

“I can make you a copy if you really want one,” you tease, still playing with his hair. Life has never felt brighter. He does want a copy. He immediately imagines it sitting in his wallet, inside his phone case, on his dashboard.

Rafe shifts to kiss you again, allowing the bliss and awe and fear and vulnerability to take over.

He started this wanting no strings attached. Now he’ll be tying you together for as long as you let him.

(the end)

author’s note: writing “the end” is always more bitter than it is sweet 🥲 thank you to everyone who read and supported this series! if you had a “couple song” in mind, let me know what it was - i’m curious! i found “miss summer” by odie was my fav song to listen to when writing the fluff scenes hehe i think it covers how rafe feels perfectly. love you all 💋

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[bunnycvnts]

somnophilia with stepbro!rafe i’m begging!!!!!!

Dreaming

summary: the request above!:)

word count: 2.5k

warnings (SPOILERS): somnophilia (sleeping), icky stepbro, noncon, fingering, p in v, creampie, MDNI!!!

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

it had been a long day. you’d started with an early morning tennis match with your mom, all excited about your newest little matching skirt and top as you pranced down the stairs into the kitchen.

“mom, this is the cutest thing i’ve ever seen!” you beamed, your skirt flying up as you twirled around to show it off.

rafe had to bite his cheek as his eyes burned a trail down your body, catching a glimpse of your lacy panties that stretch just right around the curve of your ass. he knew he shouldn’t look at his stepsister like this-he does his best not to. but lately it’s been hard to control himself, especially with you being so fucking naive, practically giving him a show every time you leave your room wearing next to nothing.

“you like it, ray? s’cute huh?” you walked over to where he sat at the counter, grabbing a strawberry off his plate and pushed it past your lips, sinking your teeth in to take a bite.

“uh huh, yeah.. it’s uh, real cute.” he nodded, using every ounce of strength he had to tear his eyes away from your pillowy lips sucking the juice off the berry.

he had to work even harder when you walked back into the house a couple hours later, your previously perfect hair now a mess, sweaty and stuck to your temples and neck. your skin was shiny and flushed, and he could only imagine the way you looked bouncing around the court without a care in the world, probably giving every man there the view he wished he had.

before he could get too worked up about it you sauntered up the stairs, returning shortly after donning a bikini that left little to the imagination.

“gonna go swim, i think ward and mom are getting in too. you should come!” your voice carried across the spacious house as you skipped to the back door.

it took no convincing- he quickly rushed to change and was out to the pool as fast as his legs would take him.

and, oh, was it a good choice.

he watched you, his blue eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as you pulled yourself up the ladder, water dripping from the ends of your hair and cascading down your delicate skin. you reached your hand up to wring the water out, each droplet hypnotizing rafe as they dripped down the valley of your breasts all the way to the hem of your tight fitting bottoms.

he couldn’t tear his eyes away as you moved to lay down, sprawled carelessly across a lounge chair. your skin glistened in the blistering heat, but even then he could make out the shape of your taut nipples poking through the thin fabric of your wet bikini, rising and falling with every breath you took. every filthy thought he was having went straight to his dick, tightening his swim shorts painfully.

he thought he was about to lose it when your mom brought you a popsicle after you’d complained about feeling dehydrated. “m’thirsty mom.. but the uv index is too good to go inside right now. got anything in the cooler?”

his breath hitched in his throat as your lips wrapped around the end of the popsicle, your plush tongue peeking out to lick around the bottom. fearing he couldn’t hide his raging erection for much longer he jumped into the icy water, sighing as he broke the surface and swam to the pool’s edge.

except when he looked again, the sun had worked in his favor and melted the popsicle, just enough to cause the sugary juice to roll down your chin and drip down to the fat of your tits. his hand found his throbbing dick under the water and gripped it, slowly moving back and forth as he watched you gather the juice with your finger and clean yourself up.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he’s been aching ever since. it feels unfair to him, the fact that the world was cruel enough to allow such a perfect creation to walk amongst the world and somehow end up being his stepsister. it just wasn’t right, it couldn’t be.

the night was over now, the credits of the comedy movie rolling as ward and your mom collected the empty bowls that were once filled with popcorn and the boxes of snacks littering the coffee table.

“she looks so peaceful.” ward mutters, looking over at you as you breathe rhythmically against a throw pillow.

“i know, i don’t have the heart to wake her.” your mom whispers.

“i’ll be up for a bit,” rafe chimes in, realizing his voice is a bit too loud and eager, clearing his throat before continuing. “i’ll keep an eye on her.”

both parents thank him in hushed tones and wander off to the master bedroom after getting rid of the trash. as soon as rafe hears the latch of the lock he heaves a deep breath, slowly turning his head to fix his eyes on your sleeping figure.

you look so docile, so innocent and soft with your mouth agape, small snores escaping your lips. he hates that he feels a rush of arousal looking at you in such a vulnerable state, peacefully sleeping on the couch in the family home.

what he hates even more is the fact that he can’t stop his hand from gripping around your ankle, his rough palms sliding up the smooth skin of your calf, wiggling your leg and feeling satisfied as it flops limply to the side. you don’t move a muscle and your breathing stays completely steady. he chokes back a groan at the sight of your cotton shorts stretched around your hips, heart racing at the small fraction of skin exposed at your hipbones.

he would give anything to have you whimpering and moaning, eyes rolled back while you voluntarily give him your body as you cry out his name- but he can’t try for that yet. you’re too innocent for corruption, too pure to destroy just yet. he knows he’s sick for being obsessed with his stepsister, but a part of him desperately needs you to want him too.

rafe’s hand reaches out and a shaking finger hooks around the fabric, pulling your little shorts to the side. he bites hard on his lip when he sees your glistening pussy on display, no panties covering what he’s so desperately wanted to set eyes on for months. he drags in a shaky breath as he glances up to your face, still sleeping with no idea of his sinful actions.

his cock stiffens behind the confines of his sweatpants and his heart beats with enough force that he can feel it in his throat. his nerves don’t stop him from sliding his finger up your soft inner thigh, and your unconscious state doesn’t stop the goosebumps from erupting across your skin. in his twisted mind he can’t help but feel that this is a sign you want his touch, that you want him to continue.

and so he does. he lets the rough fingertips of his first and middle finger rub up the folds of your core, splitting them apart to reveal your pink clit.

“sh-shit…” he murmurs under his breath, bringing his free hand to push his hair out of his eyes.

as he moves to touch the tender bud, your shorts snap out of his fingers and back into place. his blood runs cold as you breathe in sharply, turning your head to fall to the other side. in a strike of pure luck your eyes remain closed, the soft rhythmic breathing returning. he decides the shorts are just in his way, they’re too much of a risk. what’s the harm in taking them off? he can definitely be gentle enough.

he moves the slowest he ever has, a touch so delicate you’d think he was scared to shatter you like glass. he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slowly drags them down your legs, so meticulous and careful. once they’re past your ankles he drapes them over the back of the couch, sighing once he sees your bare lower half uninhibited by clothing.

rafe’s mind swirls with sin, images of every way he wants you- to touch you, feel you, taste you. with a featherlight graze he slips his thumb up your wet core, swirling a small circle around the puffy bundle of nerves. he watches intently to make sure you stay asleep, being as vigilant as he can.

he moves back down, circling his middle finger around your entrance before pushing in to his first knuckle. his dick twitches in his pants when he feels just how tight it is already. slowly and with mindful precision he pushes all the way into your velvet walls, his head swimming when he feels the warmth hugging around his finger. he sits idly for a few seconds, taking in not just the physical feeling but the rush of adrenaline that has begun its course rushing through his veins.

to his utter shock, an almost silent whimper-like sound falls from your pouty lips, your hips shuffling around slightly as your body adjusts to the feeling.

she does want this.

his brain races and before he can change his own mind, he slowly curls his finger up into your gummy core, teasing your sweet spot steadily, repeatedly. your sweet juices have coated his finger, your unconscious arousal now evident as it pools out around his knuckle while he bends and thrusts his finger. his aching cock throbs and he can’t help but to grab the elastic band of his pants, pulling them down just enough for his length to escape with a slap against his stomach.

rafe brings his left hand to grip around his base and gives it a squeeze. he slowly inserts his ring finger into you, prodding your walls to stretch and make room for both digits. with his lip bitten tightly between his teeth, he jerks himself to the same steady rhythm as his fingers as they go in and out of your pussy, his breath hitching as you start to mumble and lift your head.

“w-what… mmm…” your eyes are still closed, only half awake.

“shhh s’okay, pretty girl. you’re just dreaming. go back to sleep.” he whispers softly, his fingers not stopping once.

and boy, you must be exhausted, because your head falls back against the pillow, the same steady breathing returning once again.

“that’s it.” he coos only to himself, his thumb grazing against his swollen pink tip.

i have to feel her.

he’s bombarded with intrusive thoughts- thoughts of how warm and wet you’d feel around his cock, how pliant and accessible you are as you lay exposed to him. it doesn’t take much convincing seeing as how deep of a sleeper you’ve seemed to be so far. as smoothly as he can, he removes his fingers from your core to bring them up to his mouth, sucking every drop of your arousal from them with a groan.

so fucking sweet.

with great caution and a watchful eye, he slides his sweatpants down to his ankles and kicks them away before taking place in front of you, his knees sinking hard into the plush couch cushions. the sight of his cock so close to your pussy has him thinking he could cum from that alone. he brings his length to sit atop your folds, dragging the underside back and forth across it before he lets his head brush against your clit. your body reacts and your hole nearly begs for him, clenching and fluttering around nothing.

he rests his palms against your knees, pushing them ever so slightly apart to make room for himself as he pushes his tip into you, sucking in a sharp breath as he sinks in. inch by inch your walls envelop him tightly, swallowing him as he presses into the hilt. he stops and has to compose himself, choking back every lewd moan and curse he wants to let out in fear of startling you awake.

slowly he pulls out before plunging fully in once more, throwing his head back when your pussy squeezes tightly around him in response. something ignites deep in his primal mind and he can’t stop himself from fucking into you over and over, using your unaware, sleeping body as his own personal toy. each careful thrust twists his mind into a more sick, sinful frenzy.

your mouth falls open and your body’s natural instincts kick in, moaning and whimpering as your cervix is kissed by rafe’s tip. the sweet sounds of his stepsister crying out in her sleep for him, for his cock, causes his stomach to tighten and threaten release. he draws himself out and your hips buck up, an extra loud whine escaping your lips.

“you like feeling full, huh?” he whispers into the air as he moves one hand to grip around the fat of your tit through your thin shirt, kneading and squeezing. his fingertips find your taut nipple and pinch it through the fabric, pulling and squeezing as he continues to thrust into you. and, like bodies do, yours reacts to the stimulation by being sent into an orgasm, pulsing and squeezing around his cock as you release your juices onto him.

the sensation and his sick arousal bring him to his peak, hips stuttering as he spills hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls with his entire load. he thrusts into you as he rides out his high, and for a moment he stops to catch his breath, letting his cock stay inside of you as he leans forward against the back of the couch for support.

as carefully as he can he pulls his hips back, his cock leaving your warmth and his cum falling out of your pussy beautifully in front of his eyes.

he hates how much he loves it.

he loves how much you’d hate it.

he picks his pants up from the ground and quickly pulls them back up his legs before grabbing your soft cotton shorts and positioning them around your ankles. when he slowly pulls them up you begin to stir, and in a rush he pushes them up to your hips. he watches your eyes flutter open slowly and blink a couple times as they adjust to the dim lighting.

“r-rafe?” your voice comes out in a tired rasp.

“mhm, i’m here. you gotta get to bed.” he mumbles in a casual tone, reaching his arm around you to pull you into a sitting position.

“i… okay.” you sigh groggily, moving to your feet with his support.

your feet drag the floor as he helps you to the stairs. he holds back a demented smirk as he ushers you up them, watching his cum saturate the fabric between your legs.

this has to stay my little secret.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88 @mousie101 @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

[bunnycvnts]

masterlist

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

rafe cameron

jerking off

demonstration

first ‘i love you’

plus size hcs

perv

sick rafe

i care

spoiled gf moodboard

john b

pregnancy

gf moodboard

jj maybank

gf moodboard

[bunnycvnts]

hi love, wanted to pop in and ask if you have a masterlist, want to read all your works !! 🥰

i do not have one only for the fact that i have no idea how to do that LMFAO so if someone can teach me or show me i’d appreciate that 💔

[bunnycvnts]

watch and learn (part nine)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

He’s used to feeling anger. It’s familiar to him, like a song he’s heard a million times.

But there’s something weaved in with the anger he’s feeling right now. A painful, sinking hopelessness. It’s almost debilitating.

Rafe typically looks away when he sees you and Blake together, but this time he can’t. It’s like he wants to aggravate himself.

As he sits in the sand, you’re out in the distance, far into the dark blue water, part of two silhouettes closed in a kiss.

You told him sadness isn’t weakness. That’s a fucking joke. If it wasn’t weakness, why does his heartbeat feel unsteady? He’s the very definition of weakness right now.

Rafe pats Sam on the back, mumbling that he’s heading home.

“What, already?” Sam asks, who’s been focused on flirting with Liv the entire time. “You still coming tonight?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, although he’s not even sure if he’ll be attending the frat party tonight. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he faces Blake.

His legs are heavy when he drives back to the dorm. He’s glad he didn’t carpool with anyone.

Rafe needs to get his shit together. He doesn’t want a commitment. He can’t do that. But he doesn’t want you to have one, either. With anyone.

What you have is so good. Why the fuck are you ruining it?

He scoffs to himself. It’s because you’re looking for someone who can commit. And… maybe he could figure out how to do the boyfriend stuff.

Stupid. He’s in disbelief that his mind went there. You don’t even want him like that. You’re friends that fuck. Or you were.

When you wade back onto the shore with Blake, you notice that Rafe is missing. You ask Sam about it, who simply tells you he left in a rush. You settle onto the sand with the rest of your friends, lightheaded and dazed.

About an hour later, you head home. Rafe’s in his room and hears your door open. He considers knocking. But soon after, your door closes again.

He paces for a few minutes, wondering if you went to shower. Or maybe you rushed back to Blake to go spend more time with him.

He desperately hopes it’s the former. He strips down and wraps a towel around his hips, heading towards the co-ed showers.

As you lather body wash over your arms, wondering if Blake felt the same way about the missing spark in your kiss, you hear your name muttered over the rumbling of the shower, echoing through the tiled corridor. You recognize his voice immediately.

“Rafe?” you say with a laugh. As confused as you are, you’re just as relieved to hear him.

You pull the slide lock open, slowly swinging open the shower stall door, eyes landing on his cheerless face. Your smile fades.

Rafe finds both pain and pleasure in that look of concern on your face that took him prisoner long ago. He knows you only care for him as a friend. You fucking love throwing that word around.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Rafe feels angry. He’s jealous. He’s lost. He’s drowning and this will give him one last breath before he goes under.

He barges into the shower, cupping your face with firm hands and kissing you hard. He’s terrified you’ll shove him off and tell him you’re with someone now.

“One last time,” he mumbles when he pulls back an inch away from you, begging that you’ll want him enough or at least find the pity to do this before you turn into someone else’s girlfriend.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. One last time? Why does he want to stop doing this? He said he wanted to keep hooking up with you just the other night.

Nonetheless, you agree. You’re falling for him and continuing this is self-destruction. Whatever his reason, you agree. Even if it hurts, you agree.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His shoulders lose all tension once your soft hands drag up his arms, curving around the planes of his muscles, landing at the sides of his neck.

Touching him is a thrill every single time. This charge of excitement is what your kiss with Blake was missing. Rafe is everything you want. You finally admit it to yourself.

On paper, this doesn’t make sense. You should be head over heels for Blake. He’s a good guy who actually wants to date you. But Rafe, with all of his temper and his arrogance and his repulsion for commitment, is who you want.

Thankfully, the rest of the showers stalls are empty, but you pull back to shut the door behind Rafe and avoid the risk of anyone seeing you.

He lazily bunches his towel onto a free hook and presses up behind you, his mouth on your wet shoulder, hot water drizzling on his back. His hands roam over your chest, down your body, between your legs.

He’s touching you like he has seconds left before he has to stop.

You feel his cock hardening against your back. If this is the last time, you need to taste him, have him every possible way you can.

You turn and sink to your knees, gripping him at his base, putting him in your mouth. He’s still partly soft, delicate against the inside of your cheek.

Rafe shudders under your touch, watching you on your knees, wisps of steam surrounding you. His cock grows in your mouth as you run your tongue over him.

You look up at him like he taught you to the night in the backseat of his car, your heart pounding.

“Those pretty eyes,” he says over the drumming of the shower. “Fuck.”

He drags a hand over your hair, savoring the way your lips close around him. His cock twitches in your mouth as his softness is replaced by tight rigidity.

You pull away, pumping his length in a tight fist, your saliva covering him.

“You always get hard so fast for me,” you praise, eyes tracking the water falling down the ridges of his toned body.

Rafe knows he’s a goner when he thinks about the fact that he wants to only get hard for you.

You put him in your mouth again and start to slowly bob back and forth, slightly gagging every time you take all of him in. He has to press his other hand against the hard plastic door to steady himself as your hot, smooth tongue circles his cock.

His eyes are locked on you. His grip tightens at the roots of your hair as he bucks his hips forward and you open your mouth wider to invite him to control the pace.

Rafe’s takes his hand off the door to hold your head as he starts to rock, slowly fucking your mouth, keeping his locked eyes on yours the entire time.

When you start to massage his balls, he groans, feeling himself getting close. He pulls out, cupping your face to beckon you to stand. You’re on your feet and he kisses you again, softer and slower this time.

As you kiss, you hear a door open down the corridor. He clenches his jaw in frustration. He doesn’t want to be quiet. He wants to hear you moan, and he wants to be the only one to hear it.

“Let’s go,” he huffs quietly.

You don’t have time to think. You turn the shower off and wrap yourselves in your towels and rush to your dorm room. The towels drop the second the door shuts, hands roaming over each other’s wet bodies, lips joining in deep kisses.

He guides you to lie in your bed. This is where it all started. That first night, it was all emotionless and instructional. Now he understands your body like nobody ever has before.

Rafe hovers over you on his knees and dips to kiss your breasts. You stifle a moan as his tongue circles your nipple.

“Louder,” he orders. You trap your bottom lip behind your teeth as you smile, obeying him and moaning as loud as you want to.

He trails kisses down your stomach, over your pelvis, across your thighs and finally puts his mouth between your legs. His wet lips lock around your clit and you tremble, hands finding his hair.

He can’t imagine how the fuck he’ll ever be able to do this to another girl. She won’t taste like you or sound like you.

Rafe runs his tongue over folds, his face getting wet with your arousal. You bunch your fingers into his soft hair, enjoying the sight of his mouth pressed up against you.

His eyes meet yours and it’s such a beautiful sight that you feel envious of all the others who’ll get to see him like this now that you’ve taught him how to please a girl.

When he slowly pushes a finger into you, you start to writhe and shudder, tightening around him. He adds a second, curling up into you as he continues to suck and lap at your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for him to lead you into an orgasm. You tumble into it with hard pulses, arching your back and squeezing your thighs around him.

Once you come down, he kisses your pussy, thinking that it’s not fair that he didn’t get to do this more times.

He comes up to kiss you, your taste on both your tongues. His cock is swollen as he grinds up against you, the feeling of your bareness with his intoxicating.

“I wanna do it raw,” Rafe says, voice ragged and desperate. “Please?”

You nod without a second thought, wanting to feel him completely. He rubs you, spreading your wetness over his palm.

You watch him stroke himself, his fist moving quickly, covering himself with your arousal. His chest is heaving now as he looks down at you and your awestruck, open mouth.

He’ll miss seeing you like this, all blissful and hungry for him.

Rafe leans down to kiss you again as he guides himself into you, both of moaning into each other’s mouths.

You’re warm and soft and wet and tight around him, giving him a rush of ecstasy before he even cums.

“My perfect girl,” he rasps, his temple against yours. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

You told him not to say shit he doesn’t mean.

He’s following your advice.

As he pushes in and out of you, his hand trails up your forearm and he laces his fingers through yours. The gesture is fucking romantic that you’re almost angry at him for doing it.

You allow yourself to live in this short-lived fantasy, letting Rafe say goodbye to you with his body.

He’s so overcome with passion that he squeezes your hand too hard, making you wince.

“Rafe,” you whisper, “that hurts.”

He tenses and stops moving immediately, blue eyes frantically searching your face for an answer.

“My hand,” you say.

“Shit,” he says. He loosens his grip, gently curling his hand around your fingers. He can’t endure seeing you in pain. Especially if he’s the one who gave it to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say with a breathy laugh. You thought he hated holding hands. “Keep going.”

Rafe resumes his thrusts, shifting to rub your sensitive clit and meeting your lips with his again.

The pressure of him filling you, the sensation of his thumb dragging circles over you, the way he’s kissing you sends another familiar rush of pleasure through you.

You start to breathe even faster as your walls start to clench around his cock. You whimper as your body warms with the promise of another orgasm.

“Again, baby?” he grumbles in an amused tone. He loves that he can do this to you. “You deserve it.”

Rafe’s words send you over the edge again, your entire body trembling. The way you clench around his cock makes his blood hot, thrusting into you harder and harder.

“You’ll be thinking about me, won’t you?” he says. “Wishing it was me?”

He doesn’t have to say it outright. You’ll be thinking about him the next time you’re tangled up with another man like this. You know you will and it kills you to admit to yourself.

“Yes,” you impulsively answer. The words between you are so sensitive and heavy that you kiss him to stop the conversation from carrying on.

Rafe continues to pound into you, hitting so deliciously deep every time, loving how your pussy swallows him. He’s panting at this point, body slick with sweat, thighs burning as he frantically rocks in and out of you.

“Taking it so fucking good,” he grunts. “Fuck, I’m…”

When he finishes inside you, hips stuttering against yours, every muscle in his body tenses, the wave overtaking him.

He has to keep himself from collapsing on you, shifting and slowly pulling out. You lie on your side with your back to him. It’s too much to look at him after sharing something so intimate, knowing it’s the last time.

You can feel his cum inside you, the lack of him so damn painful. It’s over. You’re crashing now.

“A-plus?” Rafe mumbles against your shoulder.

“A-plus,” you say, hoping your tone doesn’t give away how somber you feel. “You officially know how to please a girl.”

You say it mainly to remind yourself of the situation you have with him. To hear it out loud that this is all a purely physical arrangement.

Rafe shuts his eyes, plummeting from the high you just gave him. He can’t say anything to that. You couldn’t be more clear that you have no feelings for him.

“Why’d you say this was the last time?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Rafe’s not about to tell you the truth and put himself through the process of getting rejected by you. Especially after he saw you kissing another man just hours ago.

The spite and sorrow return, washing over him again.

“We said we’d do this ‘til we’re satisfied,” he says. “I’m satisfied.”

You hate that his words hurt as much as they do.

You’re about to remind him of what he said at the party a few nights ago, about how he wants to keep fucking around with you. But what’s the point in convincing him to keep doing this when you already know it’s best to end it?

“It was fun while it lasted,” you say indifferently. You’re not even close to satisfied, but you’re not going to beg him. “You can go if you want.”

Another touch from him would be too much. You need to end this now.

Rafe’s weight shifts behind you as he gets out of your bed. You gave him the easy way out. And this is Rafe. Of course he’s going to take it.

Your door shuts behind him and you let out a shaky exhale as you lie in bed, hating that hot tears prick at your eyes.

You weren’t supposed to develop feelings. You lost.

Rafe tells himself he won’t care when he sees you with Blake. He’ll act like it doesn’t fuck with his head until it no longer does. He’ll go to tonight’s party and find a girl and sleep around like he wanted to before he met you.

As you get ready a couple of hours after Rafe left, you’re pretty sure going to the frat party is a shitty idea considering you still feel so heavy-hearted. But it’s better than staying in your room, wallowing in your sadness.

You don’t really want to face Blake in case he tries anything, but the sooner you let him know you only want to be friends, the better. It’s best to rip the bandaid off.

You meet Liv at the house, purposely avoiding Blake and Rafe before you’ve had a drink. A couple of sips in, though, Blake and Sam approach you two, offering you a joint.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Liv jokes, taking a puff. She offers it to you and you take one pull. Then another. And one more.

The boys challenge you to a game of beer pong and you and Liv follow them to the dining room. You catch Rafe’s gaze. He’s with another girl. Of course he is.

He’s is in the living room, a few minutes into a conversation with someone who approached him, when he sees you. You’re right next to Blake while you set up a game of beer pong. It’s infuriating him all over again.

He realizes there’s a gap in conversation. She must have said something he ignored. He tries to put his focus back onto her, but how can he when the girl he’d do anything for is just across the room, giving another guy the attention he’s dying for?

As you play with Blake against Sam and Liv, you land a ball in a cup. Blake cheers and puts an arm around your waist.

“Nice one,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You know you’ll have to break it to him soon. Leading him on any longer wouldn’t be fair.

The game carries on, the fog of your high thickening. You keep glancing over at Rafe, who’s looking down at her with that smug smile you know so well. He was just inside you hours ago, raw, and he’s already hitting on someone else.

Sam and Liv end up winning the round, and now that you’re tipsy and stoned, the music is too loud, the air is too humid.

You take a deep breath and look up at Blake, needing a break from everything. You lean in, making sure not to touch him.

“Could we go to your room?” you ask. “I need to sit down.”

“Yeah,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you through the crowd and up the stairs.

Rafe sees you and his chest tightens. It was fun. That’s all you said. It was so much fucking more than that to him, but to you, it was fun.

You’re not shy anymore. Thanks to him. That’s probably why you’re comfortable going upstairs and hooking up with Blake so soon.

He told himself he would act like he doesn’t care. It’s taking everything in him to follow through.

When you settle onto the edge of Blake’s bed, he sits next to you. You can smell his cologne and immediately think of how much more you like Rafe’s.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“I think I smoked too much,” you reply.

“Shit, that’s not fun.” He puts his hand on yours. “Can I help? Do you want some water or something?”

You swallow hard, taking advantage of the courage you have from the substances you drank and inhaled.

“Blake,” you say quietly. You look down at your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I… want to be honest with you. I think we’d be better off as friends. I’m really sorry if you want more.”

Tension immediately grows between you. After a moment, he replies.

“It’s all good. I think you’re right.”

Maybe he’s saying it just to save face. Or maybe he can sense that your conversations are rigid more often than not and affection between you feels like it’s missing something. Either way, you’re relieved he’s taking it with grace. It’s what you expected from him.

“You deserve a great girl,” you tell him sincerely. Blake looks down and nods.

“If it’s him you want, I hope he gets his shit together for you.”

Blake doesn’t have to say his name. It’s obvious. It’s embarrassing that you’re so transparent, but you try to push away the discomfort.

You meet his eyes and can only offer him a disappointed smile. You hope Rafe can get his shit together, too. But you saw him with another girl downstairs and you know his heart isn’t yours.

Like he said, he’s satisfied. He’s done with you.

Since you sat down, the world has started spinning even harder. You’re not even at the peak of the high yet.

“Is it okay if I lie here on my own for a while?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Blake says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He leaves, surely grateful he doesn’t have to stay with a girl who just rejected him. You breathe through the scary whirling sensation flooding you.

You lean back on the bed and lie down, anxiety gripping you. You know you just have to ride the high out, but your heart is racing.

You close your eyes, taking calculated breaths, trying to keep the fear at bay.

You hear taps at the door a few minutes later and turn your head to see Liv come in. She offers to walk you to your dorm, but the mere thought of even just sitting up when you’re feeling so sick makes you even dizzier.

“I think I just need to stay like this for a while,” you tell her. “I’ll find you, okay? Go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Text me if you need me,” Liv says.

Eventually, you still feel woozy, but you’re able to sit up. You’ll definitely need help getting home. You’ll find Liv, get home and crawl into bed.

Rafe blew off the girl he was talking to and has been drowning his feelings in booze. When he sees Blake downstairs, he notices you’re nowhere near him.

His eyes search around for you, but you’re not here.

Then he sees you coming down the stairs, slow with every step, holding the bannister with two hands. Any animosity he held for you dissolves when he sees how disheartened you look.

The vision of you like this sobers him up. You were upstairs and Blake just left you to keep partying? He cuts through the crowd and meets you at the bottom of the staircase.

When Rafe approaches you, your anxiety loses some of its power. What you shared earlier today was such a beautiful experience that you almost forget you’re never going to touch him again.

“Hey,” Rafe says over the loud music. “You okay?”

“Partied too hard,” you say tiredly. Your body still feels a bit numb, your head swimming, your inhibitions squandered. You’re afraid of what you might say to him with less of a filter.

He wants to know what kind of partying you’re talking about. If you actually went all the way with Blake. As if knowing will make any difference.

“What’d you do up there?” he asks. You scowl. Is he seriously still jealous of Blake?

“Why do you care?” you ask. “Where’s the girl you were talking to?”

“I don’t want her.”

“Onto the next one, then,” you say bitterly. “I need to go home.” You step to the side to pass him. Your knees wobble and he grips your forearms, keeping you steady.

“I’ll take you, baby.” You realize that’s the first time he called you that outside of sex.

His sense of protectiveness over you is almost overwhelming to him. He realizes he hasn’t ever cared about someone this much before.

“Liv’ll walk with me,” you tell him. You search for your friend in the crowd to see her in a corner, lips locked with Sam’s.

You consider taking Rafe up on his offer. Liv’s busy. Her dorm is on the other side of campus. Rafe is your next-door neighbor. It’s logical that he takes you home.

But your desire to do it not based on logic. You want to spend time with him and live in the fantasy a little longer.

Another wave of dizziness hits you and you look down with a pinched forehead and a shallow frown.

“Hey, what is it?” Rafe asks softly. You love and hate these few and far between displays of sweetness of his because as nice as they are, they never last.

“Dizzy,” you say. His hands are still wrapped around your forearms.

Guilt seeps into his bones, angry that you were upstairs like this by yourself. Especially if you and Blake hooked up and he just left you to sit in discomfort. Rafe would never leave you like this. He’d stay with you.

“Everything okay?” Blake appears behind Rafe. Weeks of pent-up rage twist deep in his gut. He’s been avoiding him all night for this reason.

“You just left her alone up there?” Rafe snaps.

“What?” Blake says.

“Is that how you’re going to treat her?” Rafe says through gritted teeth.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blake snaps.

Rafe’s hands lose contact with you, his blood boiling as he turns to look at Blake, his chest aggressively pushing up to his.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Rafe starts to shout.

“Back up before you do something you regret, Cameron,” Blake replies. Rafe steps even closer, fists clenched.

“Back up,” Blake warns again. He looks to you and asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

This is the final straw for Rafe. How dare he pretend like he gives a shit about you?

He shoves Blake hard, finally giving into his rage for everything. For taking you. For leaving you upstairs. For being better than him.

Blake’s nostrils flare and he steps forward, hands bunching around Rafe’s collar.

“Get out,” Blake mutters. “Go. You’re done here.”

You’re in shock. You pull at Rafe’s hand, trying to deescalate the best you can while you’re still feeling so disoriented.

“Let’s go,” you urge. Rafe’s face is a mix of anger and confusion and regret. You can’t tell if he seriously just got kicked out of his frat over you.

In shock, Rafe lets you pull him out of the house into the quiet night air. It’s the blind leading the blind at this point, your muscles weak as you step out on the sidewalk.

Your dorm is just shy of a ten minute walk away, but you’re not sure you can do it if someone’s not watching out for you.

Rafe’s hands are in his hair as he paces out into the street.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “Fuck. Fuck.”

You cross your arms as the cool breeze hits you and watch him through worried eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” you try to console him.

“No, it won’t.” He’s reeling. The brotherhood has a code of conduct. Violating it is a big deal. He fucks up once and he’s done. And on top of all that, he lost you.

“You guys’ll talk it out when you’re sobered up,” you say.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Rafe shouts. His volume startles you and he notices you jolt and it makes him feel a hundred times shittier.

You watch each other in silence for a moment before you speak again.

“I’m not going to stand here and let you yell at me,” you say to him. You turn and head towards your dorm, albeit slowly.

Rafe sighs, watching you walk away from him, knowing he should get used to the feeling. He rushes to catch up to you, reaching you as you pace down the sidewalk. He grips your forearm in case you get weak again.

“Wait,” he mutters impatiently. “Wait, I’m…”

“Why the fuck are you mad at me?” you say, staring ahead, refusing to look at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Don’t say that word,” Rafe says. “I can’t stand that word.”

It stings. He can’t even see you as a friend now that he’s satisfied with you?

“If we’re not friends, then why get so pissed off at him for leaving me upstairs? If you don’t care about me, why did you do that?” you challenge.

Rafe feels drunk, heavy, and afraid of it coming out wrong.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” he says.

“You left me today,” you say with a pissed off laugh.

His rage and jealousy are clouding his judgement. Deep down, he feels like shit for the way he left you in your bed, but all he can see is red right now.

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend,” Rafe snaps. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I told him to, Rafe!” you shout. Embarrassment floods his body. Shit. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever fucking met.”

Rafe almost laughs. If he’s confusing to you, you couldn’t imagine living with his brain. It’s constantly tugging him in ten different directions.

You cross the street, arms still crossed, trying not to cry.

“What’s so confusing?” he asks. He can’t stand that you’ve kept your eyes off of him this whole time. “Look at me.”

You stop under a streetlamp on the campus pathway, glaring up at him. He hates how sad you look.

“You’re mean, then you’re nice,” you say. “You don’t want to do couple shit, then you call me your girl. You say you’re satisfied and done with me, then you try to fight Blake for leaving me upstairs. I don’t fucking get you.”

“I never said I was done with you,” Rafe replies.

You scoff. Of course he’s going to pick apart your words and move past the actual subject. All this man does is avoid his feelings. You turn to keep walking, but he steps in front of you.

“I don’t want to be done with you,” he says.

A dangerous feeling of hope blooms in your chest.

“We said it was the last time,” you remind him. “You got what you wanted from me.”

“I…” Rafe looks down and shakes his head. “No. I want more.”

“What… kind of more?” you say, tone softening.

He rakes a hand through his hair and exhales. He’s on not sure he’s ever felt this scared before.

“What kind of more?” you repeat.

“More than just… fucking around,” he finally says. He winces like he’s bracing for the impact of your words.

“I thought you said you don’t want to be tied down,” you say.

“Yeah, ‘cause I think college is supposed to be fun,” he says. “But… being with you would be fun. Being with you is the most fun I’ve...”

Rafe looks down again, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Are you with him?” he says quietly.

“Rafe,” you say with a huff. He just doesn’t see it. “Did I stay with him or did I leave with you?”

He lets the words sink in for a moment. You chose him. Damn. You actually chose him.

“I saw you kiss him,” he says, possibly in a subconscious way to sabotage everything.

You freeze. That must be why he left the beach so suddenly. He saw you with Blake and he couldn’t take it.

“But you didn’t see me telling him that I’m not interested in him like that,” you reply.

A weight lifts off his chest, giving him space to breathe better. Rafe realizes he’s already too deep. If you’re going to break his heart, you might as well break it all the way. At least that way he’ll be sure.

“Do you… do you want me?” he stammers. “As a - a boyfriend? Do you want that?”

He’s never looked so vulnerable to you before. Not even when you walked in on his father berating him. This is a new expression. One he’s been hiding from you.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you say, a smile curling on your lips, your body going numb.

He awkwardly shuffles in his spot, nervously pushing his hair back again.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Yeah?” Rafe echoes.

“Of course,” you laugh. The fact that you seem so sure makes his heart warm in a way he’s never felt before.

“You’re not just saying that?” he asks.

It hits you like an unexpected storm, like the sudden raindrops on the night on the boat, that maybe Rafe doesn’t think he’s as great as he pretends to be. That it’s all an act, that he feels like he’s not worth loving and he hides it behind ego and coldness.

“Rafe,” you laugh. “No, I’m not just saying that.” You close the distance between you, brushing his bangs off his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones.

He looks like he’s still scared that you’re being insincere.

“What if I fuck it up?” he says. “I don’t know how to...” Be a boyfriend.

“We both know you can learn,” you reassure him.

Rafe finally lets himself believe that you really do like him, smiling, dimples caving into his cheeks. The way his eyes light up might just break your heart in the best way.

He doesn’t know if you turned him into someone else, or if he was always this person. But he wants it all. The dates, the affection, the commitment. He wants it all if it’s with you.

Rafe kisses you and this time, he allows himself to feel all the vulnerability he repressed before. You’re doing the same thing.

He doesn’t want to stop tasting your lips and feeling your nose nudge against his as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper.

After you somehow manage to pull yourselves off of each other, Rafe’s fingers lace between yours as you walk the rest of the way back to your dorm.

He knows he left things back at the house in shambles. He knows he probably lost his place in the frat and his future living in the house. He knows his temper fucked him over like it usually does.

But for once in his life, he has someone looking at him like he’s not a complete disappointment.

(to be continued)

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[bunnycvnts]

I Burn : Part Seven

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART SIX | MASTERLIST | PART EIGHT

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            Today was a day of celebration. Siena had completed her 12 week program & she would be leaving tomorrow. As always is the case when a patient successfully completes their program, there is a going away party. You were mildly looking forward to it, an excuse to not think about all the shit going wrong in your life, but you weren’t looking forward to having to socialize amongst those who were not happy with you. Albert, namely.

            You got dressed a couple hours before the party. It had been a couple days since you practically busted his door down in search of comfort. And comfort he did give.

            He consoled you, talked with you through your fears & guilt, reassured you that the lawsuit was nothing you could have predicted therefore out of your control. It was not your fault John was choosing to sue your father. Dr. Mooney, like your mother, agreed that the likelihood of John winning was slim. He had eased your consciousness.

            After you went to bed that night, you realized that what Rafe had told you at the beach was bullshit. Of course, your mind was preoccupied with the news your mother brought you, but at some point in the midst of your talk with Dr. Mooney, you began to pay attention to him closer. There was no indication that he was attracted to you, nor possessive of you like Rafe suggested. There was genuine care behind his eyes, he kept an appropriate distance from you, & his words never lingered to anything that would clue you in to any sort of desire. Dr. Mooney was there to help you. Whatever Rafe interpreted that as was just that, an interpretation.

            And now, more than ever, Dr. Mooney was your only friend in the facility. After your blow up in group, there was no one other than him who smiled when you appeared or entertained small talk with you. Part of you still felt like shit about what you had said to Albert, but you couldn’t sit on it forever. You said what you said. There was nothing to do about it except apologize & hope for the best.

            It’s why you went to the party early. The lawn behind the building had been turned into a festivity. There were few tables with tablecloths, tables along the windows that peered into the group session room that held the food & drinks, none of which were alcoholic of course. And there were congratulation balloons billowing in the light breeze. You hoped to get to the party earlier in the hopes of talking to Albert. But after twenty minutes, you were still the only one there.

            Heading back inside, you intended to go looking for him, but as you were about to round a corner to head back to the youth wing, you walked abruptly into another.

            There was no hiding the sound of annoyance you made when your eyes met Rafe’s.

            “What’s your problem?” He questioned, matching your hostile energy.

            “Looking at it.” You glowered, attempting to bypass him, but Rafe was quick to snatch your elbow in his hand. You ripped your arm from his grip, rounding on him quickly, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

            Rafe’s eyes darkened at that. Before you could resist further, Rafe suddenly dragged you into the closest room, which also happened to be the group session room. You weren’t too worried about being trapped with him. After all, it was the middle of the day & everyone would be walking by the door any moment. You’d make this quick.

            “What the fuck.” You groaned, glaring at him as he tried to shut the door behind the both of you. But you threw your hand out to stop him, keeping the door open for anyone walking by to see in.

            “You’re avoiding me.” He stated.

            You blinked, cocking your head sassily, “Great observation. Now leave me alone.”

            “What’s your problem?”

            “You.” You seethed, stepping forward. “I’m done letting you fuck with my head.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You poked his chest, “I may be fucked up in my own ways, but at least I don’t play with people’s heads & emotions, making them feel confused & scared.”

            Rafe rolled his eyes at that, unimpressed with your stance, “Scared? Don’t be such a little bitch.”

            Hot rage coursed your veins. You wasted no time in shoving him, “That’s what I mean!”

            A look of surprise flashed across his face at your gentle assault, & you wished you could revel in it, but you had other priorities that needed your attention. “You claim you’re looking out for me by telling me some bullshit about Dr. Mooney wanting me & now you’re calling me a bitch because I’m calling you out. You’re fucking twisted, dude.”

            A displeased smirk appeared on his face then, “Takes one to know one, right?”

            “Oh, fuck off.” You spit, “From now on, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me. I don’t even want to fucking hear your voice.”

            “Or what?” Rafe stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart, crossing his arms over his chest & tucking his hands under his armpits, “What are you gonna do, _____?”

            You didn’t crack in your facial expression, but you did stumble internally. What could you do? Nothing, really. But you needed Rafe to know that he wouldn’t get his sick amusement out of you anymore.

            Shaking your head, you made to leave, but Rafe slapped his hand on the door, slamming it shut, before shoving you against it & tightening his hold on one of your wrists to keep you from moving.

            “Not a damn thing.” He stared down at you, his voice low. “You’re helpless. Weak.”

            His words penetrated your skin, but you wouldn’t let them sink further.

            “No.” You shook your head, “You are. And you don’t like that I see you for the monster you are.”

            Rafe’s eyes flashed darkly then. It was your turn to smirk, “See? There you are.”

            Before you could react, Rafe harshly gripped your chin, shoving your head against the wood of the door, right before he claimed your mouth with his.

            You gasped into the aggressive kiss, your body regretfully lighting up at the action. You instinctively threw your hands up, placing them on his solid chest in an attempt to push him off, but Rafe wrapped his other arm around your waist, crushing his body against yours.

            The burning between your thighs returned with a vengeance. As much as you hated this guy, couldn’t trust him as far as you could threw him, & knew that he only viewed you as a toy to pass the time, you couldn’t deny how well your bodies meshed together. Like they were each other’s missing puzzle piece.

            Rafe growled into the kiss, the hand that was holding your chin, now kneading itself into the tresses of your hair at the nape of your neck. You sighed into his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

            Fuck this man. You battled with yourself. You knew how you felt about him, there was no more confusion about that. But fuck if your body didn’t still want his.

            He pulled away then, his eyes peering darkly into yours, “Your monster wants mine just as bad.”

            Your chest heaved as you bit your lip, torn between glaring at him angrily or jumping his bones. Never in your life have you hated your body more than now. You knew well-enough & understood the urge & desperate desire to fuck someone, but wanting to rip them to shreds at the same time was a new mixture that had your head dizzy.

            “When you’re done being scared, you know where to find me.” Rafe told you. Then he swiftly nicked his knuckle against your chin before exiting the room.

            Finally alone, you let out a heavy breath. You stayed there a moment longer to shake away the lingering sensation of his hands on your body. You needed a clear head. Regardless if what he said had some minor truth to it, you were determined to avoid him until it was your going away party. Double checking your hair & clothes were in place, you finally left the room, dreading how the rest of the day may go.

            Albert was inaccessible. About an hour into Siena’s party, & he had yet to stray away anywhere by himself. It was like he knew what you were wanting to do & was making it, so you’d have to apologize in front of everyone. But you had too much pride for that.

            Rafe left you alone, too. Much to your surprise, he was sitting with Renee. You wondered what a conversation between the two of them would be like, but you wouldn’t be going over to find out. You kept to yourself the whole time, constantly watching & waiting for an opportunity to get Albert alone. You were sitting by yourself at a table in the shade when the sound of glass clinking drew everyone’s attention.

            It was Dr. Mooney who stood near the tables of food & drinks.

            “As everyone knows, today is a pretty special day.” He began as he found Siena amongst the people with his eyes. There was a good mix of patients & faculty, about 30 people or so.

            “When Siena came to our facility, she had little hope about succeeding in her recovery. But all of us together with her have gotten her to a place where she feels confident & secure moving forward. And now, today, we celebrate her program coming to a close & going out into the world a new & healthier Siena Cortez.”

            People clapped & smiled, a few cheers here & there. You watched as Siena looked uncomfortable with the attention, but Albert was there next to her to shake her, helping her not feel awkward.

            “Siena,” Dr. Mooney smiled in her direction, “you have made myself, your family, your friends, & everyone here present very proud. You dedicated your time here to recovering &, dare I say, showed no struggle in the effort. You are a true example that one can get better as long as they believe in it.”

            She pursed her lips to hide her smile, but Albert knocked his hip into hers, forcing her smile to crack open. You found yourself smiling along with her. More so, you couldn’t wait for the day when it would be you standing in her shoes.

            “So, enjoy this party we put together for you. Say your goodbye’s, but know that when you leave here tomorrow, you have made a new family that believes in you every step of the way.”

            “Thank you, guys.” Siena mumbled, but everyone clapped.

            Dr. Mooney raised his glass of non-alcoholic champagne, “To Siena & her future.”

            You morosely raised your glass alongside everyone else before emptying the contents into your mouth.

            The music got turned up then & patients & faculty began to form a dance floor between the tables. Albert was in the midst of it all, dancing with Siena as she giggled happily to herself. You picked at your nails under the table, watching longingly as nearly everyone around you was enjoying themselves. If you hadn’t burned the bridges that others built to reach you, you’d be there in the middle with them.

            Growing upset with yourself, you were about to stand up & excuse yourself to the closest bathroom, but before you could, Dr. Mooney appeared across the table from you. He placed his empty glass on the table, before leaning forward, “Don’t you want to dance? It’s not often you guys get to have fun like this.”

            You shrugged, but tried to hide your discomfort with a smile, “I’m okay with just watching.”

            Dr. Mooney’s smile saddened at that. You inhaled sharply as you watched him sit down across from you. You really didn’t want one of his positive lectures right now, not in front of everyone. Not like anyone would really be paying attention, but still.

            “What’s going on, _____?”

            “Nothing!” You cringed at how forced you sounded. You cleared your voice, trying again, “Really, nothing. I’m okay.”

            He peered at you for a moment longer before glancing over his shoulder at the handful of people who were dancing. You followed his line of sight, your eyes falling onto Albert. As if he felt eyes watching him, Albert glancing your way as Siena spun him around. There was no hiding the hurtful look in his eyes before he focused his attention back to dancing with Siena.

            “You two haven’t spoken yet, I gather?”

            You sighed. There was no point in answering Dr. Mooney’s question. It was quite obvious.

            “Would you like me to get him for you?”

            Mortified at his suggestion, like he was a father trying to solve an issue between his kids, you jumped forward, “No, Dr. Mooney, please. It’s fine.”

            He nodded, “You’re adults. You’ll find it in yourselves to figure it out, I trust.”

            You certainly hoped so but knew you wouldn’t try very hard for very long.

            “Dr. Mooney.” Nurse Carney appeared, “Your wife is on the phone. She said she’s been trying to ring you.”

            “Oh.” Dr. Mooney patted himself down, frowning, “Must have left my phone in the office.”

            Nurse Carney smiled kindly, “She’s on hold at the front desk.”

            “Thank you, Kiera.” Dr. Mooney stood then, his eyes falling to you, “Try to have fun, okay?”

            You nodded. Nurse Carney followed behind him as they disappeared inside. Relieved at being alone yet again, you watched for only a moment as people around you mingled about & enjoyed the beautiful day. After a couple minutes of aimless staring, you remembered you were going to go to the bathroom for a short while. Just to get away.

            Throwing your paper plate of mostly untouched food into a nearby trash, you headed inside. The nearest bathroom would be on the other side of the main office. As you passed by the front desk, you noted that Dr. Mooney wasn’t there. Down the hallway behind the front desk, you noticed the door to his office was closed. You guessed he was taking the call from his wife there.

            Inside the bathroom, you splashed your face with water & put your hair up. You stared at yourself for some time. Looking yourself up & down, but not in appraisal. You imagined your near future. Maybe you’d go to college, make something of yourself. You pictured meeting someone handsome & kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge your past. Most of all, you hoped that your dad would look at you with love again, or at least something close to it. Attending Siena’s going away party had forced you to think & feel about the future. Your future. How you truly wanted to be better. For everyone & yourself.

            A knock on the door tore you away from your reverie. You sighed heavily before rolling your eyes. You also couldn’t wait to not live under the same roof as 20 other people.

            Swinging open the door, you were about to step out to let whoever was waiting in when you paused. Renee leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed with a knowing expression on her face.

            “Hey, Nympho.”

            You groaned, “What do you want?”

            She smiled coyly, responding to you in a sing-song tone, “I know something you don’t know.”

            You hardly interacted with Renee, but whenever you did, it was always filled with rigid tension.

            “I don’t care.” You replied in a sarcastic sing-song tone of your own.

            You passed by her, but she spoke up behind you, “I doubt that. But whatever. Your problem, not mine.”

            You stopped in your walk, rolling your eyes. You knew she was likely baiting you, but her quick dismissal of it did peak your curiosity.

            Turning around, you raised your eyebrows, “What? What is it?”

            Renee sighed dreamily, “Well, what with all the excitement & soaring feelings of hope flying around because of Siena’s party & watching you daydream out there, I just thought you should know yours won’t be for a long while.”

            Oh, so she was just being bitchy. You should’ve known. You were about to turn & walk away for a second time when Renne hollered out, “I can prove it to you.”

            “I’m not falling for it.” You tossed over your shoulder.

            “But Dr. Mooney is.”

            What? Halting, you glared at the ground. You heard as her footfalls grew closer until she was standing right in front of you.

            “What are you talking about?” You seethed.

            Renee grinned, “I’m talking about how I overheard your favorite doctor on the phone with your daddy. I only got one end of it, but it sounds like your dad is willing to pay Dr. Mooney more money under the table to keep you here, at least until he wins the lawsuit.”

            You wanted to call bullshit, & to claw her eyes out. But Renee was talking about things she would have no clue of. Grabbing her shoulders fiercely, you backed her into the nearest wall. You took brief pleasure in the shocked gasp that escaped her as her shoulders met the wall.

            “Jesus, calm down.” She shoved your arms off, “I thought it’d be a dream come true for you to stay here with your doctor.”

            “Shut up. Just tell me everything you know.”

            She glared at you but continued nonetheless, “Just look at his notes, everything you’ll need to know will be there.”

            His notes? “His notepad?”

            “Uh, doy.” Renee rolled her eyes, “The one he carries everywhere for group session & one-on-one.”

            “How do you fucking know that it’d be on there?” You were growing angrier. Though you couldn’t deny there was some merit to what she was saying, why the hell would Dr. Mooney keep any kind of info like that on his notepad?

            “Dr. Mooney isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.” Renee claimed, “I read it every now & then. It’s how I know more about your issues than I should. About everyone’s.”

            “You’re lying.” You pushed her again & her eyes widened in fury.

            “Why would I fucking lie?” She argued.

            Why would she really, you reasoned with yourself. You & Renee didn’t get along, but even this would be a new low for her. Besides, what would be in it for her anyways?

            “Show me.” You gestured your head towards the back hallway. “Now, Renee.”

            “Ugh, god, whatever.” With that, Renee pushed off from the wall & rounded the front desk, heading down the center hallway of the building where Dr Mooney’s office was. Following closely behind Renee, you could faintly make out the sounds of the party outside. Everyone would be distracted. You & Renee would have time to get in, see for yourself what she was claiming, & then get out. But part of you hoped she was wrong. She had to be.

            Just a few feet away from Dr. Mooney’s office, Renee stopped in her track. She had her arms crossed over her chest, “Go ahead. I’ll be look out.”

            You wanted to argue with her, but knew that you wouldn’t have the time do get in & out like you wanted. So, you bypassed her & went straight for the door.

            Had you really taken a moment to think clearly about everything, you wouldn’t have found yourself turning the knob. If you had stopped to really question Renee & get details, you wouldn’t have opened the door. And if only you had just taken a moment to yourself before entering, really asking yourself if you needed answers in that exact second, you probably would have heard the commotion going on inside before you entered. But you weren’t the slow & patient kind of girl.

            “Oh, my god…” You couldn’t hide the gasp that came out of your mouth when you barely took an inch into the room.

            The two people before you yelped & scrambled to get dressed but it didn’t matter. You had seen everything you needed to see.

            “_____, what the hell are you doing?” Dr. Mooney demanded, but the authority in his voice was nothing compared to that of him struggling to get his pants back over his legs. All the while Nurse Carney pulled a dress on over her head & raked her fingers through her hair.

            You felt betrayed, violated. Not because you just walked in on Dr. Mooney fucking someone, but because you walked in on someone whom you trusted to be honest, good, & genuine. Yet there he was, fucking a woman who was not his wife. Fucking a woman who worked under him. Fucking in his office during a going away party for a patient of his.

            A new burning sensation fulfilled you then. Not the kind you were used to. You didn’t feel like tearing your clothes off & slipping your fingers into yourself. You felt absolute & unbridled fury. This man—this pathetic liar of a man—was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And he had fooled you most of all.

            You registered the look of guilt on both their faces. Nurse Carney as she tried to hide behind her hair, & Dr. Mooney, who tried to hide behind his status. But you saw him for what he was. A false mentor.

            Giving them both what you knew to be one of the gnarliest glares of judgement, you spun on your heel & stormed down the hallway. You didn’t miss the gleeful expression on Renee’s face as you bypassed her, & you couldn’t bother with it.

            You had little hope coming to this facility, especially because you truly didn’t think you had a problem to begin with. But Dr. Mooney opened your eyes. He listened to you, he didn’t judge you, he swore he cared about you. He gave you the hope you didn’t know you needed. You wanted to make him proud, prove to him that you were worth the time & effort. That you were someone worth believing in. You wanted to be just like him. But he was the one who let you down. He failed you, not the other way around.

            And he would regret it. That, you promised.

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[bunnycvnts]

You fake an orgasm with Rafe just wanting it to be over but he can tell and won’t let you go until you give him a real one

Faking It

Warning: noncon, somno, smut, forced sex, unprotected sex, oral (f!revieving), slapping, choking, gaslighting, forced orgasm

Your breath came out in choppy, panicked bursts when you awoke to find your boyfriend’s head buried between your legs, his tongue eagerly lapping at your clit.

The lacy camisole that you had worn to bed was bunched up over your rising and falling chest, exposing your soft breasts to the cold air of your room. Your matching panties were no doubt carelessly discarded to the floor when Rafe had pulled them off of you.

“Rafe!” You lifted your hips, bending one knee back as you tried to lightly kick him off and scoot away, still feeling confused after waking up to this, but your boyfriend’s strong arms circled around your thighs, dragging you back to him.

“Shh baby, relax,” Rafe purred, leaning back in to slide his tongue along your slick folds. When you tried to snap your legs shut, your boyfriend easily pried them open.

He ventured to your clit again, teasing the tender bud and you whined as he dragged the pleasure out of you unwillingly.

“Stop it, please!” You squirmed in his grasp, tears falling past your lashes as the bigger man held you firmly in place. Your resistance wasn’t doing anything to deter him, if anything it seemed to have the opposite effect.

You felt like you were in shock. This seemed completely unlike your boyfriend, you never could have imagined that he would do something like this to you, and your stomach turned at the fact that you could see a sick glint in his eyes every time you whined or tried hopelessly to break from his grasp.

The blond stuffed his middle finger and his ring finger into your mouth to shut you up and you sobbed, your saliva messily coating his fingers.

When he removed them, you gasped for breath, but when you felt him slide his fingers across your slick folds, you tensed beneath him entirely.

Rafe pushed two fingers into your cunt, his thumb toying with your clit. You whimpered at the feel, clenching around his fingers and you heard your boyfriend chuckle lowly at your reaction.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed, studying your face as tears slide past your squeezed shut eyes. Your mouth fell open and little gasps and moans cascaded past your plump lips. You could feel the cool metal of his ring as he plunged his fingers into your messy cunt.

His fingers were pumping into you faster now and you could feel your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs.

You felt sick. Your boyfriend’s touch seemed burning hot, and every thrust of his fingers was an invasion of your body and your trust.

You just wanted it to be over, you hadn’t even wanted this in the first place. So you decided there was only one way out of this situation.

You whined and moaned, much louder than before, tensing your body and shaking beneath him as you pretended to come undone around his fingers.

Rafe slowed his movements and for just a moment, you felt a shred of relief, before it was painfully ripped away from you.

His hand connected with your cheek sharply, sending your head snapping to the side and you let out a short gasp before you were cut off when his fingers circled around your throat.

“You think I don’t know when my girlfriend is fucking faking it?” He hissed at you, and you gasped again when he started pumping his fingers into you at a relentless pace.

“Rafe-” you choked out, salty tears trailed down your flushed cheeks, and you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, but your boyfriend’s grip on your throat pinned you in place.

He stretched you out uncomfortably when he pushed a third finger in and you whined at the feel of his thumb meeting your sore clit again.

“Just for that fucking stunt you pulled, you’re gonna have to give me two real ones,” Rafe sneered, and your eyes widened in fear.

“Wait no-!” you struggled against him as he choked you harder.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” He was shouting at you now, and you felt absolutely terrified of your boyfriend.

Before tonight, you never would have imagined Rafe hurting you, but the crushing strength of just one of his hands around your throat told you that you were dead wrong.

His thumb circled your clit with more pressure now and he was fucking you with his fingers in a way that was downright punishing.

You could feel the twisted pleasure building within you, and you knew that you were powerless to stop what was headed your way.

You came with a strained whimper, squeezing and gushing around Rafe’s fingers. The high of your orgasm invaded your mind and a wave of nausea hit you when you realized of how conflictingly heavenly and disturbed it made you feel.

“There you go, Y/N,” Rafe sneered above you. “Was that so fucking hard?”

You were much too out of it to respond.

So out of it that you didn’t realize Rafe was lining up his hard cock with your sore entrance until he roughly forced all of himself inside of you.

Your squeal was muffled by his hand slapping over your lips. Your boyfriend didn’t give you anytime to adjust, stuffing his thick cock deep in your cunt, tilting his hips back before filling you up again.

Rafe groaned loudly, his hand twitching around your throat as he lost himself in the speed he was fucking you at. His fingers brushed over your sensitive clit and you squeezed around his dick even tighter.

“Shit baby, doesn’t feel like you don’t want this when that cunt is pulling me in.” Rafe growled and his taunting words made you cry even more.

Your boyfriend fucked you harder, his pace and force were punishing, and his grip on your throat was tightening so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded.

The second time you came, it was unexpected, to both you and Rafe. As you squeezed his cock, pussy pulsing as your orgasm hit you in waves, Rafe’s fingers restricted your breathing even further and black spots danced at the edges of your vision.

“Fuck-” Rafe’s voice was breathy, and he groaned at the feel of your perfect pussy gripping his length as he drilled into you. “I’ve gotta fill up that pretty little cunt.”

You gasped for air against his tight hold on your throat and scratched at his arm, earning a backhanded slap that made your head spin and your vision go white for a few seconds.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Rafe ordered you, and you blinked away the fog of your mind to focus on your boyfriend’s face again.

Your teary eyes, pathetic expression, and the fresh slap mark, not to mention the humiliation written across your face, was enough to push Rafe over the edge, and he groaned as he painted your walls, emptying all of his cum into your messy cunt.

You could feel his seed dripping out of you when Rafe finally pulled out and you shuddered at the sticky sensation.

Rafe grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. He smirked down at you, drinking in every detail of the scene before him with a sick enjoyment.

“Don’t ever pull that shit with me again. Got it?”

You numbly nodded, mumbling out a timid, “yes,” when it seemed like the nod wasn’t a sufficient answer.

“Cause if you ever do, you’ll owe me five more, not just two.”

[bunnycvnts]

ꨄ︎ bsf!jj taking care of drunk reader

warnings: emetophobia, fingering, praising

the more i read this, the more insecure i get about my writing style. i’d really appreciate it if you guys could send me some tips & feedback!

𝜗𝜚

saying you’re drunk would be an understatement. you were wasted, completely gone and you could barely talk as jj carefully guided you up the stairs of your front porch.

luckily your parents are out of town for the weekend so nobody could hear the way you are bumping against a plant or the umbrella holder as soon as jj loosens his grip on you to close the front door.

“think i’m gonna puke,” you inform the blond and his head snaps up to wrap his strong arms back around you, “i gotcha.”

he carefully maneuvers you through the dark hallway into the bathroom and sits you down in front of the toilet. as soon as you lean forward and start to get the alcohol out of your system, his left hand reaches up to grab your hair and quickly pulls it into a makeshift ponytail. his right hand rests on your back, soothingly stroking up and down, “s’okay, y/n. just get it out.”

after moments of him comforting you, because your body refused to stop shaking, you finally calm down. he flushes the toilet and leans back against the wall, keeping his hand on your back, “feel better now?”

nodding you slowly get up, supporting yourself on the toilet, “i need a shower,” you mumble, stumbling towards the shower. “careful,” jj rushes to stand up, ready to catch you in case you trip and fall.

as soon as you reach your destination you start to pull off your shirt. the eyes of your blonde best friend widen and he quickly turns away, clearing his throat, “i’ll wait in the living room.”

but right when he closes the door, ready to get some rest on the couch after such an adventurous evening, he hears you call out his name.

it’s almost 1am so you can’t really blame the little exhausted sigh that escapes his lips. he’s been running after you all evening just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. stopping you to drink more beer, fixing your clothes and protecting you from weirdos that kept looking at you for a little too long.

he turns around to open the bathroom door again, peeking inside just a bit, he answers, “yeah?”

“i’m stuck,” your voice rings from underneath your shirt that’s wrapped around your head. huffing out a little laugh and shaking his head at your helpless situation, he steps back inside the messy bathroom.

jj quickly helps you out of your shirt and turns you around to cup the cheeks of your tired face with his big hands. “my knight in shining armor,” you slur, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

he pushes a strand of hair out of your face, “hmm… think you can tame the shower yourself?” he asks, making you giggle before slowly shaking your head no, “can you help me?”

and in a matter of seconds he helped you out of your clothes and into the shower, keeping his eyes off your private parts like a real gentleman. he strips himself down to his boxers, stepping inside the shower too.

he starts rubbing the pink bottle of wild cherry blossom shampoo onto your back, careful not to touch anything inappropriate.

after what feels like an eternity of him rubbing your back, and it seriously started to feel like he’s trying to rub your skin off, you speak up, “you do know my front needs to be shampooed, too, right?” you ask, looking down to your exposed flesh.

“i know.”

“then why do you keep rubbing my back?”

“because your front is not for me to touch.” he states simply, shrugging his shoulders.

damn, maybank.

you’ve always had a thing for him, but you were too afraid it’d ruin your friendship if you’d tell him. so, instead, you just started silently melting at everything nice and respectful he threw at you.

but right now you’re drunk. wasted. so, maybe...

you spin around, his eyes glancing down towards your tits for just a millisecond before settling on your eyes again, “what–”

“can’t do it myself, j. need your help,” you plea, pushing your bottom lip out to a slight pout that you know he can’t resist.

you see him swallowing a lump in his throat before catching his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it.

“please?” you gently grab his hands, guiding them up to your tits. He palms your warm flesh almost immediately, which sends a comforting warmth shooting through your body – straight to your core.

“god, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” he croaks out and can’t resist the temptation to give your tits a little squeeze.

his words make you lower your head, catching a glimpse of the bulge beneath his boxers, but he quickly draws your gaze back to him with his fingers on your chin, “y/n.”

you apologize and keep your eyes locked on his as he starts to shampoo the front of your body, trying to not pay any attention to the fact that your nipples are standing fully erect under his touch.

when he rubs his hands back over your chest he accidentally grazes your nipple with your thumb, eliciting a quiet moan from you. now he’s the one to apologize, “sorry, didn’t mean to–”

“it’s okay.” you interrupt him, giving him a little innocent smile.

“no, it’s— it’s not. i shouldn’t be doing this, i— god, i should go, i—” he panics, looking around frantically. when he was about to step out of the shower you grab his wrist, “don’t go, please.”

his blue eyes dart around your face, he can’t take it anymore. all these years of friendship, all these years of torture. of desire to touch and take care of you in other ways. it was too much, he needed to finally——

kiss you.

his lips crush against yours, pushing you back against the cold and wet tiles. his tongue props into your mouth, tangling with yours.

you kiss him back, feeling almost like a weight is being lifted from your shoulders as your lips finally connect. you don’t hesitate to slide your hands up his tanned abs and into his wet blond hair.

your breaths grow heavier as you continue to kiss each other as if there’s no tomorrow. when you suddenly feel his fingertips slide between your legs you pull away, gasping for air.

“shhh, don’t worry. i’m gonna take care of you, alright? just relax, princess. just relax,” he soothes you, lowering his lips down to your neck where he starts to plant soft kisses along your sensitive skin.

never in a million years could you have imagined this day would come. your best friend, the guy you’ve been crushing on for so long now, jj motherfuckin' maybank being all over you, kissing and exploring your body.

but it did. it came. you are experiencing it right now. you’re feeling every bit of his skin against yours. every suck and kiss on your neck. and most importantly: his fingers between your thighs.

he’s sliding his fingertips along your slit, parting your labia to hear your soft hums, “mmm, jj… please, i need you.”

and he couldn’t wait anymore, either. he already waited too long and now he finally has the chance to show you exactly what it would mean to be fully his. mind, body and soul.

jj raises his head back up to look into your eyes and presses his forehead against yours, a smirk playing on his lips. torture takes it’s end and he pushes two fingers inside you, enjoying the way your mouth falls agape, releasing a satisfied moan.

“there you go,” he grins and starts thrusting his fingers rhythmically in and out of your tight little pussy. “that’s what you wanted, right? me fingering you like this?” he asks huskily, licking his lips.

you nod quickly, eyes shut tightly as he continues to penetrate your needy cunt, “yeahhh, that’s what i thought. goood fuckin' girl.”

you grind your clit against his palm, heavy breaths and soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s leaving your throat. you feel his own arousal press against your thigh but he doesn’t seem to care. he’s to focused on taking care of you.

a genuine smile spreads across his face when he looks down at the way his fingers disappear and reappear between your legs. he’s finally able to make his dreams reality and it drives him fucking crazy.

his cock throbs against your thigh, and as much as he wanted to fuck you against these white tiles with them cute little flowers on it, he can’t. at least not yet.

“so fucking sexy,” he groans, his free hand cupping your tit to twist and knead your nipple between his thumb and index finger – earning another moan from you.

his steady thrusts inside you and the way he stimulates your nipples one at a time, makes your stomach tighten and your walls clench around his digits. “j, ‘m gonna cum…” you warn him with ragged breaths.

“cum for me, y/n,” he encourages you and it’s everything you need to let go and coat his hand in your sticky cum.

he places a loving kiss on your temple before you press your head against his shoulder. “such a good girl for me, hm? cumming all over my hand…” he hums into your hair and pulls his fingers out of you slowly.

he gives your pussy a few gentle pets before withdrawing his hand completely. smiling up at you as you open your eyes to look at him, he asks, “feel good?”

jj raises his clean hand to brush the messy strands of hair from your forehead and you reciprocate the smile, “never felt better.”

cleaning his other hand from your cum under the stream of water, he cups your cheeks once again, “guess i really am your knight in shining armor, hm?”

𝜗𝜚

[bunnycvnts]

arguing with boxer!rafe was rare, and not fun — but you’d be lying if you said that the part where you make up didn’t make it all worth it.

you’d both been cooling off for a while now. he’d been frustated at the ring, you’d been frustrated with him not spending time with you — and it all kind of exploded. arguing is normal, rafe was at the point in his life now where he had a control over his anger having just turned thirty, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still have that same attitude occasionally.

you feel him enter the living room where you stand, still refusing to look at him. you busy yourself pretending to rearrange the couch cushions until you feel his hand briefly on your waist as he steps past you. “fuck this, okay — i’m — i’m done fighting. come with me.” he mutters, and takes a few steps away from you, glancing over his shoulder. when you continue to hug yourself, unmoving — he stops, pressing his lips together and leaning over close to you. “i’m not gonna ask, or tell you again. move it.”

this gets you to move, legs blindly traipsing along behind him until you reach the bedroom, staring up at him with shameful doe eyes. his eyes flicker over you as he paces infront of you, wiping his hands down his head and face. “things just… just got out of hand… alright? whilst you should not catch an attitude like that with me…” he softens, stopping his pacing to turn to you, slowly and cautiously coming towards you and placing two hands on your shoulders. “you’re my girl — and… i’m meant to be the one lookin’ after you, right?” he points to himself and your eyes fill with tears at the acknowledgment of what you wanted all along. you nod, lip wobbling.

“now i gotta make it better. yeah? can — can i make you feel better?” he tilts his head, lips hovering over yours as his hands gently tug your waist.

“mhm.” you sniffle and he’s on you in an instant, determined on kissing away the pain he caused.

the whole thing gets him sprawled on the bed, letting you rut away on his cock, using the flagpole of an appendage to massage your insides until you could barely remember your own name. he sits up against the headboard, watching you intently, making sure you felt good the whole time. he’s got one thumb loosely in your mouth, and another hand on your waist helping you along.

“let it out. s’my fuckin’ girl. anything you fuckin’ want, s’yours.” he grits out as he fucks up into you to the best of your abilities. “you forgive me yet, angel? wha’s it gonna take, huh?”

at this point you’re totally fucked out, barely able to keep yourself up. you let his thumb lull off your tongue. “want you to do it!” you cry pathetically making him nod frantically.

“you want me to— alright, f’thats what you want.” he’s quick to flip you on your back, rolling his hips as he grinds you into the bed, strong arm holding himself up. “fuck. that’s it, isn’t it?”

“daddy you have t— ohh!” you cut yourself off with a whine, clenching hard around him.

“have to what huh — what — what’s daddy gotta do, mm?” he’s breathless but lifts his head to lock eyes with you anyway as he massages your guts. your lip quivers again, all that pent up emotion still finding its release as you suck in a shaky breath like you were on the verge of hyperventilating. he bottoms out and stops, catching his breath as he hovers over you before settling a little, grabbing your face. “breathe or i stop. seriously.”

you regulate your breathing, though it still trembles. “and… i need you to use your words. what do you need?” he enunciates each word, trying to ground you and help you understand.

“slap me.” you beg, pink eyes gazing up at him desperately.

“quit. m’not doin’ that shit.” he goes to move again but you let out a cry.

“i’ll feel better. please daddy please— please i’ll be good jus’ want it once —”

“alright. shit… gently. you’ll take what i goddamn give you, yeah?” he raises his eyebrows and you nod, eyes fluttering with a flinch when he raises his palm. he counts you in, before giving you a firm slap on your cheek making you whimper loudly. he immediately counteracts the sting by cupping your cheek in his palm and starting to thrust again, all but fucking you into the bed. your pained whine is replaced by pleased ones. “yeah. there you fuckin’ go, always punishin’ yourself when you don’t need to, kid. s’over now. lemme have it, baby. just give it up for me.”

[bunnycvnts]

rafe fingering you at the beach.. ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

authors note: i really wanna get better at smut since i struggle a lot with it since this is my first account i write it, also let’s pretend rafe and reader are on the inflatable pool in the first pic for this <3

“daddy.. what are you doing?” you mewl softly, what started with your boyfriend’s rough but gentle fingers playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms advancing to feather like brushes against your mound.

“not doing anything baby,” he mumbles into your ear, your back rested up against his uncovered chest. “yes you are,” you whine, heart starting to race.

there wasn’t too many people around, given it was early in the morning, but it still was a public beach. meaning that every few minutes there would be groups or singles walking around the beach, jogging with dogs as they go along their morning.

“just.. just playing with what’s mine, what’s so wrong with that?” he adds, now cupping your mound completely. “daddy, stop it!!” you whisper scream, reaching for a blanket to cover his hand quickly, not wanting to get caught.

“you uh, really want me to stop?”

you stay silent, small whimper leaving your lips as he chuckles to himself — skillful fingers pushing your underwear aside, making space so he could find your nub, rubbing small circles against it when he does.

a breathy resemble of a whine leaves your lips, closing your eyes as you lean your head back. “how’s it feel, pretty?” he asks, deep voice only adding to the lethargic, whimsical feeling you slipped into.

“feels.. good.” you hum, instinctively opening your legs for him. “gotta be quiet, you got that?” he says as he rests his chin on the space of your neck, leaving small nips and kisses.

the sort of power and influence rafe had over you was unbelievable, the way he could turn off your brain with a few touches.

“yes, yes.” you repeat, biting your lip as his rubbing gets more firm before following down to your hole. “gonna finger you now, m’kay?” he mumbles against your warm skin, middle finger right on your entrance before slipping it in — tiny hole loosening up enough for him to follow with his ring finger.

you take a deep breath, trying to swallow a moan when you hear footsteps and giggles not too far.

“shh sh sh.” he shushes, both fingers knuckle deep. “they won’t notice if you just act normal,” he prompts before curling them.

“d-daddy..” you groan, clenching your fist around the blanket. “i know, daddy knows baby.” he coos, slowly drawing back his fingers before entering them again.

the chatter of the bystanders gets closer, “hold on,” you cry, queasy feeling in your stomach. “nah, nah. you can take it.” he continues, even speeding up his pace.

you hold your breath until you notice they pass you both, quickly letting go of the whimpers you were holding back. “fffuckk, daddy. harderrr,” you whine, clenching tightly around his fingers.

he scoffs before adding his pointer finger, all of them reaching a spot your own never could. “you’re being realll slutty baby,”

“sorry daddy, just feels so nice,” you mewl, that familiar feeling rising up in your lower stomach, tingly feeling running all over your body. “‘m gonna cum,” you whimper, closing your eyes tightly as your arousal coats all over his fingers.

“there you go.. there you go. give it to daddy,”

rafe fixes your underwear back when he removes his digits, moving them to your mouth and letting you suck your own juices off. “y’know what to say, baby.” he adds as you lick off his fingers, small pop sound when you finish.

“thank you, daddy.”