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fushitoru · 2 months ago

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i don't wanna lose this with you a spiderman gojo fic

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an amalgation of misunderstandings and stress lead to a very big fight between you and satoru, but you certainly don't expect the way he wins you back.

warnings ⸺ college au, spiderman!au, angst, hurt/comfort, i warn you reader might infurate you, but she's just a woman in stem :(, tooth rotting fluff bc he's a loser for his gf, not edited sue me

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n you'll probably need to read the first installation (nsfw, so mdni) to understand this one :3

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

you've blocked gojo on all platforms.

you don't really remember what caused the "break up" (you didn't really break up). maybe it's the fact that you've been stressed about grad school admissions, your dorm's floor was covered in his boxers, and he's never been able to visit you pre-3am these days. somehow, the city's criminals are determined to keep your boyfriend away from you, and maybe it was your pms, or maybe it was truly just because satoru is annoying. regardless, it's when you guys have plans that's not an impromptu healing-gojo's-wounds-in-your-dorm-at-3am sesh and you're waiting at the coffee shop that you explode.

because he was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago, and when you move to go to the bathroom, you see him. through the window, his white hair is never not noticeable, and who you see next to him makes you falter.

he's standing next to a girl with blue tinted silver hair that you recognize as mei mei, and she's gripping his upper arm as she smiles while looking at his face, his lips with such fuck me eyes that you could tell they were having some sort of intimate conversation.

and if it were an ideal day, you would know that it's all a misunderstanding, you would know your boyfriend is someone you trust. but, again, the cards were stacked against you, and the only things that go through your mind all make your eyes all glossy. he's late to the one date that you planned because you and him were finally free at the same time and you've been busy because you've been desperately applying for internships because unlike your boyfriend you don't have a plethora of papers and coding experience and you've been getting four hours of sleep on average this week and ugh you've heard a rumor that satoru used to hook up with her and fuck now your tampon is poking at you in the wrong way—

great. now tears are fully streaming down your cheeks. in public.

as you rush to the table where your stuff is your vision is so blurry that you also almost fall flat on your face as you stumble over the legs of chairs and tables. blurting out a ensemble of choked up sorry's and excuse me's you hurriedly gather your laptop and notebooks in your backpack and book it for the exit.

the biting cold stings at your face, but you nevertheless determinedly move in the opposite direction of where satoru and mei mei are situated, praying your boyfriend doesn't recognize you. however, it seems that the heavens are working against you because you hear a yelled "baby?"

you don't look back because you know a new set of tears will leave your eyes, and with it being finals season, you're not very hydrated to being with. but you hear footsteps running towards you and fuck your boyfriend's long ass legs because he quickly catches up to you. then, he grabs your hands, attempting to stop you from running away and face him.

"baby," he breathes, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he moves to kiss your forehead. you stay silent, pinning your gaze to the ground while shivering. "where are you going? aren't we supposed to hang out right now?"

look, you and gojo have a good relationship. but recently, things have gotten...strenuous lately. you guys haven't been communicating, and it might not help that half of your calorie intake was from energy drinks. or perhaps what lead you to say what you said next was driven entirely by the brain eating mold on your unwashed dishes, but dumb excuses aside, you sneer. "shouldn't you be busy doing that with mei mei, instead?"

a small part of you--the part that knows you shouldn't be like this--feels relief that hurt doesn't immediately flash across his eyes, only confusion. but lack of sleep has not only stripped away at your sanity but also your people pleasing and overthinking tendencies, leaving you only as a girl frustrated, even irrationally angry, with her boyfriend. so you only avert your gaze when he dumbfoundedly asks, "what?"

"what do you mean, "what?"" you scoff, wrenching your hand from his grasp. "you were ten minutes late to our meet-up, gojo." it is at your use of his last name, instead of your sweet my love, that the hurt you've been looking for flashes across his eyes. he moves to speak but you cut him off, no longer wishing to be here with him. "if you're so busy talking to bitches you hooked up with before, why did you even bother saying yes to hanging out with me?"

he looks at you in confusion, eyes quickly flitting back and forth across you. then, slowly, as if he's still processing the weight of your accusations, he says, "i don't exactly know what you're referring to, but let's calm down---"

and you see red.

"calm down?" you snap, voice sharp and icy, just like the wind stinging your cheeks. "did you seriously just tell me to calm down? you were late again, gojo, and i find you chatting it up with her?" you practically spit the word, arms crossing as a flimsy defense against both the cold and the ache building in your chest.

satoru blinks, his confusion genuine, but you’re too far gone to care. "wait—mei mei? is this about mei mei? she's not—"

"don’t you dare finish that sentence," you cut him off, your voice rising as your blood boils hotter. "i don't want to hear how she's just a friend, or how it's not what it looks like. i’m so tired of hearing the same bullshit excuses."

"baby, you're jumping to conclusions—"

"and you’re jumping at the chance to look like an idiot in public," you snap, your hands trembling now, either from the cold or your rising fury. "god, what do you even say to her? let me guess, you go around telling girls you're spider-man to get into their pants, huh? bet that works like a charm."

the accusation hits like a slap, and for the first time, satoru looks genuinely stunned, his mouth falling open slightly. "what the hell are you even saying right now?"

"am i wrong?" you let out a bitter laugh, one that echoes in the frosty air. "you’re late to the one date i actually planned, and i see you with her, all cozy, like i’m not even waiting for you. like i don’t even matter."

his eyebrows knit together, frustration mixing with something softer. "you seriously think i’d—"

"i don’t know what to think anymore, satoru!" the words burst out of you, your voice cracking as hot tears well in your eyes. "all i know is that i can’t keep feeling like this. like i’m some afterthought while you’re out doing—whatever it is you do. swinging through the city or flirting with your exes or—" you choke on the words, wiping at your cheeks furiously as the tears spill over. "just forget it. i’m done."

"wait." his voice is quieter now, more desperate as he steps toward you, his hand reaching out. "baby, come on, we can talk about this—"

"no," you say firmly, jerking your hand away before he can grab it. "i’m blocking you. on everything." then, mockingly, "you can figure out how to save the world without me."

his eyes widen, his mouth opening like he’s about to plead or argue, but you don’t wait for him to speak. you turn on your heel and storm away, the cold wind biting at your skin as the lump in your throat grows heavier.

you don’t look back. not when he calls your name, not when you hear his footsteps falter. you just keep walking.

it’s 3 a.m., and you don’t know if you exist.

well, you do, but after how light you feel after you’ve cried a disgusting amount, you just lie down on your floor staring at the ceiling and contemplating the meaning of life. or more specifically, the meaning of your life, which right now feels like it’s revolving around nothing but stress and a breakup you don’t even fully understand.

you wouldn’t be having these problems if you were a childless cat lady.

but alas, you’re just a college student. in the few days where you haven’t seen satoru, you’ve finished all your finals—miraculously, considering the fragile state of your emotional wellbeing—and now you’re finally on break in your dorm. you’re supposed to go back home in two days, but the thought of packing feels like trying to climb a mountain barefoot. you can’t summon the energy to do anything except wallow in your self-pity and selfishness, letting it wrap around you like a weighted blanket that’s somehow comforting and suffocating all at once.

you’d like to say this is rock bottom, but truthfully, it’s worse than that. because rock bottom implies a kind of finality—a place to push off from. this? this feels more like you’re sinking in quicksand, the weight of everything dragging you further down.

in your stress and impulsiveness, you’ve managed to kill your entire grind for internships. deadlines have slipped past while you spent hours doom-scrolling job boards and second-guessing every application. the ambitious, career-focused version of yourself feels like a stranger now, buried under the weight of your own doubts and insecurities. and on top of that, you may have potentially lost the love of your life.

it’s laughable, really, how thoroughly you’ve managed to self-destruct in such a short time. the worst part? you can’t even bring yourself to check your socials. if you unblock him and see there aren’t any messages, you think your heart might shatter completely. which, if you’re being honest, isn’t exactly fair to him. you’re the one who had the meltdown. you’re the one who blocked him on everything. he probably doesn’t even know what he did wrong because you didn’t even communicate anything.

your stomach twists at the thought, guilt mingling with the ever-present ache of missing him. he was supposed to be the one person who made everything feel a little less impossible, and now you’ve pushed him away.

there has got to be a taylor swift song for this.

so you make your way to your spotify account to listen to afterglow, putting in your airpods while somberly looking at the ceiling once again as the lyrics fill your ears. tears well up as soon as the lyrics start

i blew things out of proportion, now you're blue⸻

tears well up before you can stop them, hot and heavy as they trail down your cheeks. god, you’re a mess. and yet, as much as you hate it, you can’t seem to stop the flood of thoughts that follow.

you miss him. you miss the way he made you laugh even when you were on the verge of tears, the way his ridiculous confidence somehow made you feel like everything would work out. you miss how he’d stay up late just to facetime you when you were overwhelmed with schoolwork, how he always seemed to know exactly when you needed him most.

and now? now you’ve gone and ruined it. maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s hurt, or worse—maybe he’s just done with you entirely.

the thought makes your chest ache, your breaths coming in shallow and uneven as the lyrics hit their crescendo.

i need to say, hey, it’s all me, in my head—

then, suddenly the song changes. you frown as you hear early 2010's pop blast through your ears.

i threw a wish in the well, don't ask me i'll never tell⸻

why the fuck is call me maybe playing?

annoyed and rubbing at your eyes, you move the change it back to, now, the sad girl hours playlist spotify curated for your and assume your dead fish position on the floor once again.

however, it seems as if your spotify is genuinely tweaking, like it's realized it’s gotten your attention. when call me maybe starts playing again, you groan out loud and move your phone. but before you have a chance to switch the song again, it seems to switch.

baby by justin bieber.

call me, blondie.

i love you, i'm sorry, gracie abrams.

letstalkaboutit, aminé.

i don't understand but i luv you, seventeen.

please please please, sabrina carpenter.

and then, once more, as if to really drive the point home: call me maybe, carly rae jepsen.

again, it's 3am, and you're stuck in a surreal mix of grief and confusion, staring at your phone as your spotify queue seems to have gained sentience. each song feels like a pleading nudge, an unmistakable pattern forming, and your blood runs cold when you remember one very important fact.

you share a spotify account with satoru.

"carly rae jepsen," you mutter under your breath, a mix of exasperation and fondness bubbling up despite yourself. he's hijacking your queue. right in the middle of your emo songs.

you sit up abruptly, tossing your airpods onto the bed, and hover over the call button on your phone. there’s a split second of hesitation—your pride battling with your longing—before you give in and press it.

the line rings twice before his voice comes through, breathless, like he’s been pacing. "baby?"

the sound of his voice sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, sharp and raw like an open wound. the sound of his voice makes your stomach twist uncomfortably, equal parts relief and guilt. "satoru," you say, barely above a whisper. "why are you messing with our spotify?"

"why am i messing with our spotify?" he echoes, his tone incredulous. "why did you block me on literally everything? what was i supposed to do—send you a letter by carrier pigeon?"

you wince at the edge in his voice, your earlier anger wilting under the weight of his hurt. "i�� i don’t know," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. "i was upset, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i shouldn’t have done that."

"yeah, you shouldn’t have," he says, still sounding a little indignant, though there’s something softer beneath it now. "do you know how many songs i had to go through to make my point? do you know how hard it was to resist the urge to rickroll you instead?" then, there’s a pause on his end, the line suddenly feeling too quiet. then he sighs, his voice softening into something that feels too much like an apology. "i didn’t know what else to do. i hate not talking to you. i hate knowing i made you upset, even if i don’t entirely understand why."

you close your eyes, the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance. the silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable, until you finally break it. "i’m sorry," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "i shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.” and now that the dam has been broken, it all comes rushing out as you start choking up. “i’ve just been so stressed, and i’ve been missing you and then i saw you with her and then got irrationally angry when i really should’ve trusted you and oh my god i’m like a possessive tradwife husband that doesn’t let you leave the farm i’m sorry and i didn’t even communicate before i blew up at you like that—”

"hey. hey, hey, it’s okay," he says immediately, his tone filled with an earnestness that makes your chest tighten. "i know things have been hard for you. i should’ve been better, too. more present. i hate that you’ve been feeling like this while i’ve been...doing spider-man things." then, he lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind that’s equal parts exasperation and playfulness. "but wasn’t fair,” and you can hear a whine in his voice, “you blocked me and then ghosted me like i’m some kind of random tinder match. do you have any idea how insane i felt when i couldn’t even check to see if you were okay? i thought you hated me."

your breath catches at his words, guilt twisting like a knife in your chest. "i don’t hate you," you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. "i could never hate you. i was just… stupid, and emotional, and i didn’t know how to handle everything piling up. i’m so, so sorry, satoru."

there’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, a little more vulnerable. "then why did you say those things? about mei mei, and… and me using the spider-man thing to get into girls’ pants."

you bite your lip, the memory of your harsh words making your throat tighten. "i didn’t mean any of it," you whisper. "i was just lashing out, and i know it wasn’t fair to you. i know you’d never do something like that, and i trust you, satoru. i just… i let my insecurities get the better of me."

"wait," he interrupts, his voice laced with amusement that shouldn’t make your heart ache the way it does. "you actually think i’d use the spider-man thing as a pickup line? that’s...wow. that’s genius. i should write that down."

"satoru!" you exclaim, half-laughing, half-crying, your emotions unraveling all over again. "i’m being serious!"

"i know, i know," he says, but you can hear the smile in his voice, warm and teasing. "and i’m being serious, too. i’d never do that to you. mei mei’s just...she tripped in front of me, i was just helping her up. i didn’t even realize how it must’ve looked, but i’ve never done anything with her. you’re it for me, okay? always."

you sniffle, wiping at your cheeks as your heart swells and aches all at once. "you mean that?"

"of course i do," he says, his voice soft and sincere in a way that makes your breath hitch. "i love you, even when you block me on everything and make me resort to spotify warfare." he sighs again, but this time it’s softer, the warmth in his voice breaking through his remaining irritation. "i’m not mad. i mean, i was mad, but mostly i was just upset. you really hurt my feelings, you know?"

the lump in your throat grows, your guilt threatening to choke you. "i know," you say, your voice cracking. "i’m so sorry, satoru. i’ll make it up to you, i promise."

"oh, you will make it up to me," he says, the teasing edge returning to his tone. "i want a week of boyfriend privileges—no complaining when i steal your fries, no making fun of my movie picks, and you’re buying me snacks for at least three of those days."

a small smile tugs at your lips despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. "deal," you say softly.

there’s a pause on his end, and then his voice comes through the line, quieter but no less sincere. "you really mean it? you’re not still mad at me?"

"i’m not mad," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "i was never really mad at you, satoru. i was mad at everything else, and i took it out on you. but i’m not mad anymore. i just… i miss you."

"i miss you too," he says, and the raw honesty in his voice---the subtle way it chokes up, as if he had been crying and missing you too---makes your chest ache. "so, can i come over? or are you going to make me keep hijacking your playlists to get your attention?"

you laugh softly, the sound tinged with relief. "just come over already, you dummy. and bring snacks. good ones."

"done," he says, his grin audible through the phone. "i’ll be there in twenty. and for the record, you owe me at least a whole playlist dedicated to how amazing i am and you sucking the absolute soul out of my dick---."

"don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no heat in your words, only warmth (and you’re absolutely going to suck his soul out of his cock). regardless, for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest starts to ease, replaced by something lighter, something whole.

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

a/n he's so cute :( i'll keep on writing stuff for them whether it be small fics like this or long ass fics. i think my next one is gonna be freaky if you guys are nice to this one

TAGLIST im really sorry if i missed you if you sent an ask asking to be tagged pls feel free to remind me again im afriad ur ask has drowned in my shitposts and other asks

@chilichopsticks @livelaughloveisagiyoichi @moonchhu @k0z3me @seobluv

@m1gota @celloccino @satxoru @fishrene @myahfig4

@watermelonmuntchers @bxnfire @ayumilk @venussdovess @michelleeveline

@bochichi @applepi25 @6xillaa @almostdifferentstudent @mugamoo

@iv-vee @jaemissso @wil10wthetree @localartisttttt @rirk-ke

@backinmyphase @novaisbebita @heiejdhdh @blueemochii @helloalex80

@gojodickbig @kyon-cherri @nikkissecretlibrary @omg-its-rdj @isleqt

@suguruscousin @idkwhatursayinh @yourfavbabigirl

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #spiderman!gojo

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gutsby · 13 days ago

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Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,�� she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But…don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

#THE WAY I’VE NEVER WRITTEN A NCFOM-INSPIRED FIC IS INSANE #IT’S ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE MOVIES AND THE TITLE IS SOOOOO FITTING FOR JOEL 😪#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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dante-mightdie · 5 months ago

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I desperately want butcher!simon to take me against the dingy couch in the break room, no sounds but the squeaking of the springs, my muffled moans from his hand covering my mouth, and his deep grunts as he pounds into me from behind.

just a quick little fuck in between customers, and he has to leave mid-fuck to go hand off a package of pre-ordered meat, and scares the ever loving fuck out of the guy who came in to pick it up

okay i’m gonna change this request slightly because I saw a video and it inspired something based on this ask 🌚

(ending updated)

c/w: nsfw content below, implications of non-con (none takes place, delivery driver assumes reader is being attacked by simon but this is not the case at all), reader is fully consenting, reader and simon are married, threats, degradation

the delivery driver had been waiting for a good ten minutes now, wondering where the pretty counter girl was who always gave him the usual package. not even that unsettling brute was there to help him so he did what he thought was the correct thing to do

operating under the assumption that someone may be hurt or in need of assistance, he walked around the counter and into the back of the butcher shop. alongside the somewhat eerie humming of the freezer coolers, all that could be heard was a repeat squeaking sound coming from the back office

but since there were no calls for help or cries of agony, the driver opened the office door as quietly as possible. the cause of the squeaking becomes evident when his eyes land on the couch in the corner of the room, where he finds the pretty counter girl and her frightening beast of a boss

there you lay, pinned against the old sofa by the crushing weight of the butcher. legs spread what seems like impossibly wide to accommodate the brutal snapping of his hips. the driver’s eyes widened at the sight before him, the rough hand clamped over your mouth and the tears slipping down your cheeks leads him to believe he’s walked in on a viscous attack

he hasn’t been spotted yet, leaving him plenty of time to do the heroic thing and rescue you from the awful man who bunched up your skirt around your hips and ravaged you like you were nothing more than one the pieces of meat hanging in the freezer

but before he can, simon slips his hand from your mouth and the driver expects his hearing to become overwhelmed with pleas to stop. however, he’s shocked to hear almost pornographic moans slip from your throat instead. your hands that originally seemed pinned down under simon’s weight are suddenly pawing wherever they can reach

your head turns to catch simon’s lips in a sloppy kiss. tongues clashing, saliva mixing with moans as he whispers nasty things against you,

“fuckin’ slag, grabbin’ m’cock whilst I’m workin’…” he grunts, slamming his hips into you harder. your hands settle on his ass, grabbing handfuls of the meaty flesh as leverage to push his cock deeper into your sobbing cunt

“couldn’t wait, could’ya? didn’t wanna wait for me to take ya to bed like a proper husband should… don’t worry, lovie. gonna give ya what you need…” he continues, looking down to watch where his mean cock stuffs itself inside your pussy. all you can do is respond in drunken babbles of ‘more’, ‘harder’, and begging him to make you cum

the driver soons realises his mistake, ducking out of the door and adjusting his suddenly swelling cock in his trousers before he’s caught by your terrifying husband

you come out to serve him about twenty minutes later, still looking as prim and proper as you always do. now the driver can’t help but wonder how many times you’d spoken to him after being split open by your hulking husbands cock. to be honest, he still can’t over the husband bit

before you can open your mouth to speak to him, simon appears behind you, pressed right up against your back but his glare is locked onto the man on the other side of the counter,

“go. I’ve got this one…” he mumbles in your ear before sending you off with a pat to your bottom

the driver can’t help but feel like he’s shit out of luck here. the transaction is awkward, uncomfortable and he really wishes he was dealing with you instead. at least you actually smile at him

he takes the package, ignoring the way simon purposefully tightens his grip when he tries to take it from him, making him struggle. the driver gives him an awkward smile before turning to leave the shop

“oi.” simon calls out to the driver once he’s at the door. he turns around to face the butcher who gives him a look that would make any grown man shit themselves

“if I catch ya trynna look at my bird again, you’ll find yourself behind this counter for different reasons.” he snarls, glowering at the poor man who can only nod his head before darting out the door with no intentions of picking up a delivery from your shop ever again

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #butcher!simon

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st7rnioioss · 3 months ago

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۶ৎ BUNNY!READER x SHY!MATT

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... shyyyy matt and reader, sub!matt kinda, handjob, making out, matt being called a good boy! (once)

matt and you had gone to the mall for the day, a nice treat after a tough week of work. you had planned to go grab some lunch, before finding the necessary stuff you needed, and then go back home to watch a movie. but.. that wasn’t exactly the case right now. you hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet.

lewd noises came from your intertwined tongues, your slick lips rubbing against matt’s. it had started off as a quick kiss before his hand came to rest on the side of your face, his thumb dragging your bottom lip down to allow his tongue to slip inside of your mouth, your tongue meeting his.

both your hands were running through matt’s hair, gently pulling him closer to you as you continued kissing, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your flushed cheeks. your noses occasionally brushed, a tiny smile tugging on your lips as he slowly pulled back with a pop but stayed close to you. both of your lips were glistening, neither of you knowing whether it was the other person's or your own saliva—or a mix—probably the latter.

a soft smile spread on your lips when you noticed his flushed face, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “so.. do you think we can go get lunch now?” you asked, smiling shyly at him, before letting go of his face to unbuckle your seatbelt.

for a moment, matt stared at you, almost dumbfounded while he tried to calm himself down.. which was impossible.

he was aching hard, the tent in his jeans not going unnoticed by anyone. he knew he couldn’t hide it from you - so he bit the bullet.

“uhh.. can w-we wait a second?” his voice was weak, unable to stop himself from palming him through his jeans, just to relieve the throbbing a little bit. you turned to face him with a confused look on your face, your eyes subconsciously looking where his hands were resting.

“oh..” you immediately matched the red shade of his cheeks, leaning back in the seat but keeping your eyes on his erection. he looked at you, your eyes meeting his in a questioning gaze. “um.. i’m- i’m sorry, i can’t really- uh, can’t control it.” he mumbled shyly, keeping his hands over his crotch to at least attempt to diminish the ache.

“no- don’t be sorry, it’s uh.. it’s fine. we’ll just wait.. no need to rush,” you had all the time in the world, so you wouldn’t mind waiting another ten to fifteen minutes.

after a minute or two of silence, and matt’s problem clearly not going away, you decided to speak up. “do.. do you want help?” you looked over at him, watching as he still helplessly had a hand over his crotch to attempt to ease it. meeting your eyes, he nodded slowly without saying a word, slowly letting his hands slip from his hard cock.

you watched, almost in awe from how desperate for touch he was. immediately you decided you had parked secluded enough for no one to walk by or notice what was going on by the wheel, so you reached to unbutton his jean, unzipping them agonizingly slow. gently, you tugged his jeans down his thighs, the lack of restraint making him throw his head back against the headrest, a low groan slipping from his lips.

gently, you continued to pull his boxers down his thighs as well, a silent gasp coming from the both of you when you freed his cock, hard and leaking. slowly, you turned to look at him, wanting a sign that you could keep going - and when he nodded, you let your palm wrap around him, a quiet moan uttered from him.

“f-fuck.. please, i need it..” he whimpered, looking down at your hand wrapped around his hard cock, starting to jerk him off painfully slowly. the sticky residue from his pre-cum gradually spread across your fingers and palm, a hum leaving your lips as you could use it as a form of lube.

his hips jerked upwards when you slid your thumb across his throbbing tip, another whiny moan leaving his parted lips. looking up at him, he goddamn nearly came on the spot, your pretty eyes looking up at him with his dick in your hand, blushing as you leaned closer to meet his lips in a deep kiss. you kept up the same pace, your free hand cupping the side of his neck, his hands coming to rest on the sides of your face. occasionally, you swiped your fingers over his tip, making his body jolt and a muffled moan slip from his lips.

“shit- i think m’gonna cum..” matt whimpered when he pulled away with a quiet pop, and you nodded slowly, picking up the pace of your hand, watching his face scrunch up into pleasure. by now his tip was oozing with pre-cum, and you could feel him throb in your hand. it wouldn’t take much before he came. he was so sure there was nowhere else he’d like to be, his whole face flushed while watching you work wonders.

“you’re doing so good, matt.. good boy,” you kept your voice soft, pressing a kiss to his cheek. those words and the way you stroked his tip with your thumb made his mind fog up, spilling his seed into your hand with a loud groan and a whimper of your name. his chest was heaving, burying his face into your neck as you brought the kisses down the side of his face, attempting to regulate his breathing and heartbeat from the overwhelming sensation.

pulling back, you looked down to watch the mess. your entire hand was covered in the white, sticky substance that kept coming, continuing to stroke your hand up and down until you were sure he was done. awkwardly, you opened the glove box, fishing out a wet wipe to wipe his cum off your hand, before bringing it to his sensitive cock.

“sorry, sorry- it’ll only take one second..” you reassured when he whimpered, quickly helping him pull his pants back up. when you were done, your eyes met his in a silent stare, the both of you blinking and keeping some awkward gaze.

“umm, thanks.. yeah, thanks.” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his cheeks still a pink tint. you smile shyly, giving him a small nod. “yeah, it’s not a problem. it’s okay,” he nodded back at you, before he cut the silence with a soft kiss to your forehead, making you break into a faint smile.

“let’s go get lunch,”

more bunny!reader here!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ tags: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @coffeeobsesssed @lovergirl4gracieabrams @urmomlovesme12

#🐇་༘࿐ works #⌗⋆. shy!matt x bunny!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut

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oreo-creampies · 3 days ago

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𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮; 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: somonphilia, oral, fingering, nipple play, sleepy!reader, praise & degradation, panty sniffing and stealing, pervert!toji, pervert!satoru, pervert!Suguru, vibrator

"I'm bored n' horny." Toji abruptly stands up and pulls his shirt off. Tossing it onto the living room floor.

Satoru glances up from his switch. "Why jerk off when she's gonna be awake in a couple hours? She's just tired from work, and complained it was kicking her ass earlier." Satoru's cock aches at the thought of being between your legs. Imagines your plush soaking wet cunt dripping his cum clouding his mind.

Toji snorts, "Why wait when I can stick my dick in our princess's mouth right now? Then I'll fuck her back to sleep." Toji's cock had been persistently hard, his large balls aching.

Pre-cum smearing inside his sweatpants. Adding to the how uncomfortable they are. Pushing his sweatpants down kicking them next to his shirt.

Suguru pauses his game, standing up. "I'm eating her pussy out, once she cums then I'll let one of you have a turn." He sets his controller down. Pulling his hair back into a ponytail, his cock straining against his gym shorts. Which were comfortable moments ago.

Satoru states, "I'm next. Dying for another taste sweetheart tastes so goood." Drawing out the last word with a groan. Lost in the thought of your sleepy moans and gorgeous body trembling.

Suguru follows Toji towards your bedroom with Satoru in tow. Satoru fantasizes. "Hope she's just as reactive asleep as she is awake." He fondles his cock through his sweatpants. "Love it when she's loud and her pussy is messy."

Toji informs Suguru and Satoru, "She is, fuck she's whinier when she's sleepy. Gonna wake up fast n' be a demanding beautiful brat." Easing your door open. Your dimly lit wax warmer casts a golden glow onto the bed and around your room.

Toji continues "We can hold her down fuck her and stuff her mouth if she gets mouthy." They could make out you're on your back, sprawled out. The perfect position for them to use your sleeping body to get off.

Suguru adds, "Afterwards we can stuff her belly with some food, and tuck her back into bed." He eases the blanket off your naked body. Dropping it onto the floor.

Satoru chimes in, "I'll cuddle her while I'm playing Stardew valley." Satoru picks up the vibrator you left out. Turning it on, climbing onto your bed. "Sweetheart busted a nut and fell asleep." Satoru swirls the toy on your clit. You moan, parting your lips enough for Toji to slip his thumb past.

Toji suggests, "Maybe we aren't enough for her, we should step it up n' break her beautiful cunt." He kneels on the bed, guiding his cock to your warm mouth. Groaning when he glides his cock past your lips.

Suguru snags the underwear crumbled up by your body. "Her panties are so messy." He smells them groaning, "Smells so fucking good." Toji grabs your jaw, holding your head still, spit smearing from his fingers onto you.

"Even in her sleep, she's a good fuckin' slut." Satoru dips his head, sucking on your nipple. Flicking it with his tongue. Adding more pressure to your clit, swirling it faster. You tremble, moaning around Toji's cock as he fucks part of his cock into your mouth.

Toji holds out his hand. "Don't hog her panties, you've stolen ten of them. Let me get that one." Suguru passes them.

“You’re both perverted thieves.”

“You won't stop buying them for her, she too many. And Sug n I will give them back clean when we get bored of them." Toji holds it up to his nose takingna long deep breaths, then licking it. Sticking part of your panties into his mouth and sucking on it.

You open your eyes, relaxing your mouth more. Cupping Toji's balls, massaging them. Spreading your legs for Suguru, grabbing his bun, knocking it loose. He nudges his tongue past your lips, groaning. Your soaking wet cunt clenching from the vibrations.

Satoru pulls away from your sensitive nipple with a soft pop. Grinning at Toji, "Nasty fucker sucking her dirty panties like its candy." Toji loudly groans, then pulls them out to respond.

"Our Mama’s soaking wet cunt is candy. She has been givin' me a sweet tooth. Can’t help myself." Suguru kisses your lips, moaning, gliding his tongue past, making out, and tongue fucking your tight cunt.

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rafeandonlyrafe · 8 months ago

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reserved chair

words: 10.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, college au, past car crash, anxiety/ptsd, shy!reader, virgin!reader, soft!rafe, fingering, female recieving oral, p in v sex, protected sex

you take a deep breath before pulling open the door, eyes scanning the lecture hall. despite being ten minutes early to class, most of the seats are already taken. you turn quickly towards the stairs, climbing them slower than your feet want to, desiring to speed up the stairs to stop being able to see everyone's eyes and just the back of their head.

you let out a second deep breath when you get to the top, only a few students in the back row. you walk until you're as far away as possible from any other students, sinking into your chair the second you're sat down. you allow yourself a moment to breathe before working on getting your stuff out, placing your head down to just focus on lessing your anxiety.

upon picking up your head, you swear everyone's eyes are on you. you glance around towards your fellow classmates, but they've almost all turned to stare at the back row, not even trying to hide looking at you.

“wh-what is it?” you whisper to the girl in front of you, the one closest who thankfully looks nice.

“that's rafe camerons seat.”

“who is rafe cameron?” you question. it's the first week of classes, how could he have already claimed a seat?

the doors open before she can respond, and despite other students entering without anyone caring, everyone's attention shifts, his energy and presence entering the room before he does.

you instantly know that he must be rafe cameron. his eyes land on you before you can scurry to a different seat, trapping you in place, a slight smirk on his face as he casually makes his way up the stairs, and then down the aisle until he is hovering over you.

“is-is this your seat?” you manage to mumble out. “ill move.”

“nah, pretty girl, you stay right there.” rafe grabs the chair next to you, pulling it closer than the allotted distance between work areas before sitting down, so close you can practically feel his leg hovering close to yours, making you shrink even more in your seat.

you can feel his eyes staring at you, paying no mind to anyone else in the classroom, even as the professor enters.

“do you need a pencil?” you ask, reaching down to place your bag on your lap, knowing your voice just came out pathetically timid and weak.

“nope.” he hums, placing a laptop on the desk from a bag you didn't even realize he was carrying onto the table. you should have known he was the type to write notes on a laptop. you wish you had that kind of funds, but you have to head to the library every time you need to use a computer, already struggling just from the tuition alone.

you nod, keeping your head turned down as you get out your notebook, favorite mechanical pencil, and the syllabus you pre-printed out and highlighted.

“what's this?” rafe questions, reaching over to tap your finger, making your eyes widen at the touch, even though he just taps the bandaids around three of your fingers.

“oh! um…” you move quickly to hide your hand. “i write a lot. i get sores on my hand from holding my pencil if i don't bandage them.”

“shit.” rafe laughs. “that's intense.”

you're not sure if he's making fun of you, if he's mocking or sincere. “yeah.” you just whisper.

“what's your name?” he questions, head tilting to the side out of curiosity.

“y/n.” you mutter out. he's probably the first person you've introduced yourself to at college, even going as far as to manage the extra money to get a single dorm, knowing you'd need the privacy and silence to recover from the social interactions.

“im rafe. rafe cameron. where you from y/n?”

“norfolk.” you whisper your answer, your professor starting to introduce himself, but rafe keeps talking as if he isn't going over the syllabus, and for some reason the professor ignores him.

“ah, nice. im from the outer banks.” rafe nods. “you must be pretty smart to get into duke.”

“i guess.” you shrug. you know your test scores are impressive, and you had plenty of time to start dual enrollment since you were homeschooled for high school. it's why you're technically a freshmen in a class full of sophomores and juniors.

“whats your major?”

“general literature.” you shrug. at least thats your major for now, you are considering changing to research psychology, knowing you have to figure it out soon.

“good class for you then.” rafe chuckles, looking at the screen on the wall, words blown up large to show the name of the class LIT 290: SPECIAL TOPICS IN INTERNATIONAL LITERATURE AND CULTURE.

“what's your major?” you question, whispering while rafe talks at a normal volume. you wait for the professor to scold him, occasionally giving him angry glances, brows furrowed together, but the shushing never comes.

rafe shrugs. “just kinda taking classes for now. i guess im technically in government. gonna take over my dad's development company once i graduate and he retires.”

“oh, like real estate development?” you quirk your head to the side, half listening to him, half listening to the professor as you scribble down notes.

“yup. you've probably heard of the company.”

your brows furrow as you think, not sure why he's so confident about having heard of it before, it's not like you can really name any real estate- oh.

“rafe cameron. cameron enterprises.” you mumble, eyes widening.

“exactly right.” he smirks. “you stay in one of our dorms?”

you nod, you do in fact. there's several cameron sponsored dorms around campus, you're in east campus: cameron.

“i guess that explains a lot.” you take a deep sigh. no wonder everyone was staring at him, why the professor refuses to say anything to him, his family's company practically sponsors the entire school.

“ill let you focus now.” rafe sits forward, hands coming to his keyboard as the professor begins the actual lecture.

you furiously write, nervous to miss any information, not wanting to waste the scholarship money allowing you to take this class.

“y/n.” rafe says, making you jump slightly, forgetting he was next to you, so focused in paying attention to the professor.

“yeah?” you hum, putting your notebook into your bag as the professor ends class, reminding everyone to review the syllabus and get their reading done.

“sit there next week.” he says, tapping the table in front of you before standing, striding out of the class without a care in the world, people stopping in their tracks to let him pass.

you can hear their whispers and footsteps, breaking the silence of the evening as you sit on front of your window, desk pushed up close as you take notes, textbook opened up, the lamp on your desk switched on as the setting sun turns the sky a warm orange with hints of pink, making the fall colors in the campus trees looking even more red.

there's a knock on your door, making you jump as the pencil clatters to the floor. you expected the whispers and footsteps to pass. certainly they must be at the wrong room.

you consider staying silent, but want them to go away, not try to knock again thinking that their friend just didn't hear them.

“hi.” you smile as you open the door. “i think you have the wrong room.”

“no, we've got the right one.” you recognize one of the three girls as the girl in front of you in lit 209, the one who told you whose seat you were in.

“im angie. this is chelsea and veronica.” she gestures to the girls behind her. “we saw you talking to rafe. i… kinda overheard some of your conversation. chelsea is also from norfolk and im also studying literature. i thought we'd invite you out to join us at the dining hall.”

it takes you a second to realize what she's asking you. finding commonalities, inviting you out, basically asking you to be friends without the direct words.

“yeah.” you nod. “let me just grab my bag.” you step into your dorm to grab your bag off the book, double checking that your student id is inside to get into the dining hall. you shove your phone into your back pocket before stepping out, not letting your anxiety stop you from making friends, you need at least one person to confide in and hang out with.

“so, where did you graduate from?” chelsea asks, the one also from norfolk.

“oh, i was homeschooled.” you hate having to explain it, but the reason why you had to drop out of public school is the same reason your heart beat is skyrocketing as you head towards the elevator, palms sweating and nervously swallowing.

“oh, nice!” chelsea smiles. “i graduated from maury high.”

you're thankful it's not the high school you pulled out of, there's no way that she would have heard about you, about your intense anxiety after you were in a car crash, then sudden disappearance from school.

the conversation shifts to the other girls high schools, veronica telling a funny story from her graduation. you occasionally chime in, but the girls seem happy to keep the conversation flowing between each other as you head out of the dorm room and through the walkways to the dining hall.

the conversation doesn't shift until you until you're sitting down at a booth.

“so, rafe, huh?” chelsea asks.

“i don't know him.” you shake your head. “i just sat next to him and offered him a pencil, really, that's it.”

“you do know who his dad is right?”

you glance around the cafeteria, even that has signs of cameron enterprises sponsorship. “oh, i know.”

“that's why he goes here.” angie says. “he wouldn't have gotten in if it wasn't for his dad.”

“he's so hot, right?” veronica giggles before taking a bite of her pizza.

“yeah, is he even better up close?” chelsea turns to ask you.

you shrug. “i mean, i wasn't really paying attention.” it's a half truth. you absolutely were aware of how attractive rafe was, but you spent all of the lecture and most of the conversation trying to avoid looking at him for fear of eye contact.

“i heard he's such a bad boy. apparently he broke like five girls hearts last year because he was sleeping with them all at the same time.”

“oh, jeez.” you cringe. you should have guessed rafe was a player, but you also don't know the truth behind the rumors.

the conversation shifts from rafe to about other boys at the school, allowing you a moment to breathe and center yourself, calming down slightly. the girls make you feel comfortable enough that you finish dinner and bid them goodbye without a major anxiety attack, but the second you get back in your dorm, you collapse into the bed and pass out.

you stare at the seats, wondering if you really should sit in the same one. angie looks back at you with a gentle smile, mouthing a quick “sorry.” as there's already people sitting on either side of her.

you shake your head. it's fine, you tell yourself, and pull out the chair and sit down, right in the same spot you were at last week.

rafe walks in moments later, a real smile on his face when he sees you. you glance at him quickly before looking down, fiddling with your pencil and writing random gibberish until he's sat next to you.

“so i didn't scare you off?” rafe questions, setting his laptop down and fishing out his cord to charge it. you notice the outlet inset into the table is directly in front of you, rafe having to lean over into your personal space to plug it in.

“we can switch spots.” you blurt out, despite the cord being plenty long enough to reach.

“nah.” rafe shakes his head. “you look pretty in my seat.”

you're not sure how you looking pretty relates, and how you would look any different sitting in the opposite chair, but your face blushes and you stammer something intelligible, making rafe smirk.

“you're real cute, you know that right?”

“oh, i um- noooo.” you chuckle awkwardly.

“even cuter when i make your face all red like that.”

you don't say anything in response, not sure you can even form words as you reach to press your fingers over your cheeks, willing them to cool down.

“i got something for you.” rafe reaches into his bag. he pulls out his computer and then a second laptop, making your brows furrow as he sets it in front of you, along with a charger and bluetooth mouse.

“what is this?” you question. you’ve heard of loaner laptops through the school, but this brand is way too nice to be the one they’re handing out to dumb college kids to give back at the end of your semester.

“a laptop. for you.” rafe says, like it’s obvious.

“i-i can’t!” you shake your head as the professor begins his lecture. for once, you don’t even bother to pay attention as you pick up the laptop and move it back towards rafe. “i can’t afford it.” “it’s already paid for.” rafe places it back in front of you, opening it up. “the password is my name.” he smirks as the screen turns on, illuminating your face.

“its too expensive, i really can’t accept this.” your hands go to the keyboard despite your words, typing in his name rafecameron. you click enter, the computer unlocking for you to a clean home screen.

“its pennies to me, really. i want you to have it.” he glances at your still bandaged fingers. “so you can stop wrapping your fingers.”

“i-i don’t know how to thank you.” you shake your head.

“oh,” rafe reaches back into his backpack. “i got this for you. its touchscreen.” he sets the pen for the computer next to the mouse. “in case you prefer to write over type, but please, try typing for the sake of your fingers.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, opening up a browser and logging into your email, quickly opening up google docs to take notes, attention turning only half to the professor, the other half of your mind stays focused on rafe smiling at you.

“how did i know i’d find you here?” the voice makes you jump. it’s strange to hear rafes voice outside of the lecture hall, even as the weeks have gone by and you’ve hung out occasionally with angie and the few friends you’ve made, you’ve never seen rafe outside of class.

“no one is ever here.” you look around the empty room. it’s a study room, technically met for literature majors, but you’re sure no one would say a word about rafe being inside.

“thats how i knew you’d be here.” he plops down on the seat across from you.

“do you need help with your homework or something?” you ask. your professor assigned you an essay, maybe rafe is seeking out your help.

rafe lets out a scoff, looking at you with an exasperated expression. of course. you should have known he didn’t need to really try on his homework to get straight a’s.

“i want to take you on a date, come on.” rafe cocks his head toward the door.

“oh!” your eyebrows rise in surprise. sure, rafe has always been flirty before and after class, but you thought it was mostly out of teasing you, riling you up, not serious enough to actually ask you on a date.

“your choice. now or in two hours.” rafe glances at the clock on the wall.

“now is fine.” you also look at the clock. you don’t want to stay out too late, needing to get back in your dorm and work, and you also don’t want to end up at a party, it’s probably your worst nightmare to be surrounded by drunk college kids shouting and dancing.

“perfect.” rafe picks up your bag when you put your stuff away, slinging it over his shoulder as you follow behind him, having to pick your pace up to keep up with his long strides.

“taking you to dinner off campus.” rafe says, leading you out of the building and towards the parking lot. you freeze ups, eyes widening. rafe doesn’t realize you’ve stopped following him, stuck in place on the sidewalk, until he’s feet away from you.

“hey…” rafe says softly, approaching you carefully. “you alright?” “i-i-” you hate how much you’re stuttering, you can’t help it when the nerves take over and your hands start to shake. “i don’t like- um. i don’t like being a passenger.” just uttering the words make that night come back to you, you trusting your friend, getting into their car, only for them to roll it repeatedly, somehow all walking away, but the scars inside of you are mental ones.

“you can drive then.” rafe holds his keys up like an offering. “or we can eat dinner here, whatever you want.”

“im okay driving.” you trust only yourself. maybe someday you’ll learn to feel safe with someone driving you, but it took you weeks to get behind the wheel with even your mom, having to use calming techniques every time you’re on the road.

“perfect.” rafe stays pretty quiet, only making small comments about how to turn on his car (you’ve never been in a push to start before) and how to get to the restaurant. he doesn’t even turn on the radio, seeing how nervous you are, letting you concentrate fully on driving. you do feel better when you’re in control of the vehicle, but the fear of a rogue driver hitting you is always there.

“i want to tell you something, rafe.” you say shyly, now sat at your table at a nice restaurant, wishing you would have changed into something fancier, but rafe doesn’t seem to care, so you don’t either.

“okay.” he nods.

“i was in a car accident in high school. that’s why i don’t like being a passenger. thats why i have…” you take a deep breath. “so much anxiety.”

“hey.” he says softly, reaching across the table. “its okay. you don’t have to explain yourself to me. i like you just how you are.”

the comments angie and chelsea come to the front of your mind. “why do you even like me? everyone says you’re some sort of bad boy.” you don’t have to point out that rafe has only ever been nice to you, ridiculously kind and generous.

“when i walked into the classroom that first day and saw you sitting in my seat, looking at me like that…” rafe shakes his head. “you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. i love that you’re shy. it’s cute, i swear.” “you like my anxiety?” you giggle, sure that no man could actually mean that.

“well, no.” rafe shakes his head, his eyes bright. “i like that you’re like a puzzle, waiting for me to solve.” “i-i don’t know what to say. im not mysterious or anything.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“maybe not, but i want to figure out what makes you tick. how you like to be kissed, held…” rafe raises an eyebrow and you don't need him to say the next word as you're suddenly very interested in staring at your food.

“there's that blush i love so much.” rafe smiles. “you're so gorgeous.”

“there's like, way prettier girls than me at the college. i don't get your interest in me at all. awkward and… shy.” you shrug.

“don't sell yourself short.” rafe reaches across the table, squeezing your hand in his. “you're beautiful. plus, half the girls just want me for my dad's money, and the other half hate me for sleeping around last year.”

“yeah, i kinda heard about that.” you admit, trying to concentrate on your palm to keep it from getting sweaty. “angie told me you were sleeping with five girls at the same time.”

“they were all just hookups.” rafe shakes his head. “never went farther than that with any of them. it isn't like that with you.”

“well… it's nice to know you're serious about me.”

“hold your hand out.” rafe says, still sat in the same classroom, the rest of the students long gone, and with no other classes scheduled for the rest of the day, you feel like you could stay here with rafe all night.

you cup your hand and wait for whatever surprise, unsure how anything could beat the laptop he gifted you.

rafe unclips his gold chain from around his neck and drops it into your palm. “for you to wear. if you want of course.”

“is this the college equivalent of giving me your letterman jacket?” you giggle, perception of high school skewed towards idealized versions in books and movies since you missed out on most of the personal experience.

“i would love to call you my girl.” rafe smiles softly, so genuine it makes you almost want to lean forward and plant your lips on his.

“like… exclusively?” you wiggle the chain in your hand, feeling the weight shift around. certainly real gold.

“of course. i told you, im serious about you. i want you and only you, but im willing to move at your pace. if you're not ready yet, ill wait.”

you take a moment to think about it. weighing the pros and cons. con, you're inexperienced. pro, you really like rafe. con, rafe could get bored with you after a week. pro, you really like rafe. con, a boyfriend would distract from your schoolwork. pro, you really like rafe.

you hand the necklace back to rafe, watching the way his face falls, thinking it's a rejection, before you pull your hair up. “put it on for me?”

rafes smile is brighter than the sun as he strings the necklace around you, fingers gently teasing your skin, grazing against you anytime he can while he does the clip.

you smile back at rafe as you turn back towards him, feeling giddy. “so, what now?”

“what do you mean what now?” rafe chuckles. “now i kiss you.”

rafe leans in as your eyes widen, heartbeat skyrocketing as you suddenly shout out. “im a virgin!”

rafe sits back in surprise and confusion.

“im a virgin, ive never had a real boyfriend and ive never had a first kiss unless you count one that happened in second grade with a boy named lincoln on the playground-” you know you're rambling, so you're thankful when rafe cuts you off.

“that's okay.” rafe says. “i like that you're untouched. just means i need to do things right for all your firsts.”

you nod, not really understanding what he means, but knowing that you like the sound of it.

“as much as id love to lay you out on this table and wreck you-” your eyes widen at that very image. “your first time will not be in an empty classroom, and your first kiss definitely won't be either. are you free tomorrow night?”

“im… kinda free whenever.” you admit. you only have homework and studying, but you're willing to move those around for dates with rafe, as long as your grades don't slip.

“well, im about to make sure you are a very busy lady.”

rafe doesn't try to kiss you the following night. or the date a day later. or at your next class when you end up staying after again. you expect it to be that moment every time, but rafe keeps it slow, almost too slow.

he started with holding your hand. then wrapping his arm around his shoulder. he finally advanced to kissing you on the cheek, and while you appreciate his thoughtfulness, you're starting to go crazy.

“you're lost in thought.” rafe says, making you shake your head and refocus on him. “i just hope it's about me and not about your upcoming assignments.”

“it's always about you.” you smile. your grades are still perfect, you just spend all your study time working hard to complete everything perfectly and quickly to get back to rafe.

“just what i like to hear.” rafe is sat on the end of your dorm bed, twinkling fairy lights above your head as you just relax, both in casual clothes.

“do you think you could stay the night?” you blurt out before quickly going to explain yourself. “not to… have sex. but just to sleep in the same bed.”

“are you sure? you don't have to-”

“rafe!” you squeal. “i want this! i want you!”

rafes eyes widen at your outburst, probably the loudest he's ever heard your voice, before he dissolves into laughter. “ive been taking this too slow, haven't it?” rafe asks as you pout and nod.

“jesus, ive been trying so hard to hold back and not fuck it up, i ended up just fucking up in the other direction. im not used to caring about girls, or anyone, this much. im sorry, y/n. you dictate the pace, not me.”

“i want you to kiss me. tonight. and i want you to stay over and cuddle and hold me.” you allow the sudden rush of boldness to loosen your tongue.

“then that's what we will do.” rafe nods.

he doesn't kiss you immediately, he waits for the perfect moment. the lights are still on, now set to slowly fade in and out.

rafe is laying facing you, not touching you at all, but you can feel the presence, practically itching to reach out.

you're nervous, but you're not letting it stops you. as the lights dim again, your hear the movement on the bed, and then feel rafe move closer.

the second the lights begin to turn back on, rafe is on you, his lips pressed against yours. he doesn't let your first kiss be a simple peck as an arm rounds your back and pulls you into him. he leads the kiss, leaving you just to follow his movements and not stress about being perfect.

rafe slows the kiss down gradually until he pulls away, both of you taking a deep breath.

“that… was amazing.” you giggle, watching the way rafes eyes light up as you laugh. “oh my god! how have i been missing out on that?”

“wanna do it again?”

“yes!”

rafe kisses you until you start to feel dizzy, having to remind yourself to breathe as he holds you close, but it's still not enough.

you sling a leg over his hips, attempting to pull your bodies flush together when rafe suddenly turns onto his back.

“i don't think you want to do that, baby.”

“why- oh!” you're about to question the sudden change of attitude when you look down rafes body and see how your kissing has affected one particular part of his body.

“i can't help that you're really sexy, but we aren't doing this tonight in your college dorm. i need to lay you out and make you cum many times in a place where you can be as loud as you want.”

“should i… put on a tv show until it's gone then we can cuddle and sleep?” you offer, trying to ignore his words despite knowing your face is now beet red.

“i don't know if ill ever be fully soft when laying in bed with you, but that will definitely help.”

“you have to tell me everything.” angie says, a plate of fries pushed between you to share.

“oh my god he's just… such a gentleman, which i never expected just based off-” you wave your hands around. “everything.”

“that's good because i don't care who his dad is or how rich he is, if he was treating you bad id kick his ass.”

you let out a soft giggle. “i don't think he's gonna mess this up but if he does, ill remember that.”

you both groan as you glance at the clock. you can only spend so much time talking with your new friend when you're supposed to be studying.

“alright.” you pull out your textbook along with the laptop rafe gave you. rafecameron. you didn't even think about changing the password.

“how many words is this essay supposed to be again?” angie hums, also powering on her laptop.

“2,000.” you roll your eyes. “which is just so ridiculous you know the professor isn't reading everyone's.”

“he probably puts them into some ai grader shit.” angie agrees. you both quickly get to work, even getting a refill of fries. you've found that when you have a friend with you you prefer working in the dining area.

“hey baby, i figured you were down here.” rafe slides into the seat next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “how's the essay?”

“actually im pretty much done.” you shrug. you know you have a talent for writing, but its when the topic genuinely interests you. “just don't really know how to end it.”

“can i help?” rafe asks. you nod and angle the screen towards him, letting him read over the words.

“oh my god.” angie mouths to you, glancing between you and rafe.

you blush and duck your head, resting your shoulder against rafes as he reads, watching as he types out a couple sentences to finish off your conclusion paragraph.

“wait, shit, thats perfect.” you pull the laptop back close, checking the word count quickly to confirm you've hit your minimum amount.

“jeez, can you help me with mine too?” angie asks, her eyebrows furrowing together.

“ill read over it.” rafe shrugs. “afterall,” he looks to you. “y/ns friends are my friends.”

you gasp when you get back from your shower to find rafe laying in your bed. he immediately tosses aside his phone that he was mindlessly scrolling on.

“missed you.” rafe tugs on your hips as you step closer. your mouth presses against him, the kisses calming your anxiety rather than spiking it like you originally worried it would.

rafes hands stay on your hips as he pulls you down onto the bed, allowing you to fall forward against him, bouncing softly on the springy mattress.

“you're gonna end up missing me a lot over break.” you chuckle softly, knowing a week off is coming up soon.

“about that…” rafe flips so you're both on your sides, facing each other. “what's your plans? driving home to norfolk?”

“actually, i was just gonna stay here.” you shrug. “the college let's out of state kids stay in their dorms during the holiday breaks and i applied for special permission.”

“well, you won't need that.” rafe says. “that is, if you want to come to the outer banks with me.”

“oh- oh my god! yes.” you nod quickly. despite not living far away, you've never actually been to the area before, and you've grown used to rafes constant presence. you're not sure what a week would be like without him.

“my family is out of town until friday anyways, so we will have the place to ourselves for most of the time…” rafes hand moves to your lower back, tugging you in close to him. you understand the implication and despite everything, you only feel excitement and anticipation.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you his car keys. you never had to reiterate your need to be in control of any vehicle, rafe just went along with it without pushing.

“actually…” you swallow harshly. “you can drive.”

“baby.” a smile breaks out on rafes face as he talks softly, carefully helping you into the passenger seat, making sure to keep everything slow and relaxed.

“i trust you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “just… don't speed.”

“i wouldn't even think about that.” rafe says, kissing your forehead. “ive got special cargo.”

you giggle and roll your eyes, surprised how corny rafe has become as you both fall further.

rafe seems to have a sense of when your anxiety spikes. he moves to the drivers seat and just stays there for a moment while you breathe, not even turning the car on until you give him a slight nod.

you can tell he's going the long way, turning around a couple side streets to avoid getting onto the highway home too soon.

“ill go this speed the whole way if that's what you need.” rafe says when he pauses at a stop sign.

“just a little more around the neighborhood and ill be fine.” you assure him. you reach over and lay a hand on rafes arm as he drives, the physical connection allowing you to take a deep breath.

when rafe eventually pulls onto the highway, you find yourself breathing regularly, mind racing through all the coping mechanisms the therapist who saw you after the car crash taught you.

“im… im actually doing okay.” you admit to rafe, leaning forward to turn the radio on but keeping the music turned downed low. “thank you.”

“im just glad you trust me.” rafe reaches over and squeezes your thigh before quickly putting both his hands back on the wheel. “it's a long drive for you to do solo.”

in truth it's not much longer than the drive from duke to norfolk, but you're glad that you can relax as the hour passes.

everytime your mind wanders, or worry strikes about a crazed driver hitting you, you just look to rafe and allow yourself to breathe.

you even manage to lay your car seat back.

rafe smiles over at you as he watches your eyes blinking slowly, recognizing the sure signs of sleep as you end up napping the rest of the way to his house.

“darling…” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your thigh.

you wake up with a start, gasping and sitting up, looking around rapidly.

“hey, hey.” rafe says softly, pulling you into a somewhat awkward hug over the center console. “it's okay. you're safe. we're at my home.”

you press your face into rafes chest and inhale his familiar scent. he doesn't bring up the anxiety spike as he gets out of the car.

you're about to step out when you look at your surroundings, jaw dropping at the stunning house in front of you.

“rafe- this. this place is beautiful.” you allow rafe to help you stand, stretching your legs out. your bags can come in later, you need a tour immediately.

“welcome to tanneyhill.”

“we'll have to go out on the boat tomorrow.” rafe twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “what do you want to eat? we can make something or we can order in…”

you let out a yawn, the nap on the drive just making you more tired now that the excitement of seeing rafes home has worn off somewhat.

“pizza is fine.” you hum, snuggling closer to rafe on the expansive couch. “your house is very pretty.”

“but…”

“but what?” you look up at rafe. “i mean it's… it's so grand.”

“but impersonal, right?” rafe reads you so well. “it's just not my families style. no pictures of us kids on the wall or sports medals hung up. it's gotta be kept perfect.”

“that's not how i want our house to be one day.” you frown, eyes widening when you realize what you just said.

“relax, princess.” rafe says when he feels you stiffen up. “i imagine what it'll be like to live together some day too. in fact, i think for next semester you can ditch your little dorm and stay with me.”

“move from east campus: cameron to cameron hall?” you giggle at how everything is named after his family.

“exactly.” rafe hums. “because just the walk to the east side of campus is too far from me.”

“you're… too damn sweet.” you press a kiss to rafes lips, groaning when your phone buzzing distracts you from deepening it.

“who is it?” rafe asks, confident it's probably angie or veronica.

“my… my friend from high school.” you quickly sit the phone face down on the coffee table.

“the friend?”

“yes.” you say bitterly, knowing it's not rafe you're really snapping back up but rather the “friend” who still has the audacity to message you even after causing the car wreck that ruined your life.

“it's the anniversary coming up and… i know she's said sorry a million times already, but i just don't want to hear it. i just want to put everything behind me.” you let the words out in a rush.

“maybe what your friend needs for her to heal is to know you've heard it.”

you look at rafe, blinking at him as your mind works. “what are you doing being so wise?”

rafe breaks the tension with a laugh. “honestly, im just quoting back shit my dad has said and hoping it works.”

“can't wait to meet your dad then if he's anything like you.” you smile, trying to keep up the light attitude when rafes face drops slightly. there's such a small difference you barely even pick up on it.

“rafe?”

“my dad… isnt my biggest fan.”

“but he's your father.” you question, laying back down, slotting your arms around rafe instead of the usual other way around.

“yeah, and therefore anytime i differ slightly from him, it's a huge disappointment.”

“well… then fuck him.”

rafes eyebrows raise up at your bold words, not used to sharing you cuss often and definitely not against someone.

“you're the best and if he doesn't see that, then that's his loss. if he doesn't completely love you, he's out of his mind because he's known you all your life and ive only known for a couple months and i love you.”

rafe launches forward, lips pressing harshly against yours, a mix of tongue and lips sliding over each other's as you kiss. the passion rafe is putting in is unlike any other time, and you know what you want.

“take me upstairs, rafe.” you nod as he looks at you for confirmation.

rafe picks you up, carrying you effortlessly up the stairs until he's in his bedroom and placing you gently down on the soft sheets.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, hovering over top of you.

“im sure. i love you. i want this.”

rafe nods, then gulps. “why am i the one nervous now.” he ducks his head, and you swear you see the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks. “i love you too. ive never said that to anyone before but… i love you. i am in love with you. i want you and only you.”

“oh, rafe.” you coo out, sitting up to kiss him. you intend for it to be a soft kiss, a gentle caress but it quickly turns fiery.

“god, you've turned me soft.” rafe says, making you laugh.

“not all of you…” you can feel a certain part pressing against you that is not soft at all.

“yeah, but he'll have to wait. not his turn yet. first…” rafe smirks at you. “i need to worship you with my hands. then my mouth. and then ill take you properly.”

rafe gives you no time to complain as his hands delve under your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach, eyes staying on your face in case even a flicker of doubt comes across it.

his hands slowly move up until he's cupping your chest over your bra, keeping everything concealed by your shirt as you get used to the feeling of his large palms engulfing your breast.

“take my shirt off.” you tell rafe. “im okay.”

rafe nods, but his movements are still slow as he peels your top away. “you're a lot better than okay, baby.”

you can feel rafes eyes on your chest, but it just makes you happy, wanting to share this with him and only him. you make the next move, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra.

“shh, slow down.” rafes hands cover yours. “i know you want this, but let me just… appreciate you.”

rafe nudges your legs apart and lowers himself in between, pressing kisses against your stomach. his movements are so soft, covering your entire belly before moving up.

rafe kisses over the swell of your breast that's pressing against your bra cup, tongue occasionally flicking out to tease underneath the fabric.

rafe picks his head up to ask if you're still doing okay, but upon seeing your face, he knows he doesn't need to.

your eyes are already glazed over, blissed out and mouth ajar as you slowly blink down at rafe. “more.”

rafe smiles and tugs your bra away, mouth dropping over your nipple with his fingers find the other side, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bud as his tongue does the same.

his movements continue until your nipples harden. he pulls away only to quickly switch to the other side.

“feels good.” you whimper, hands finding the back of rafes head, holding him to your chest.

“not as good as it feels to have my mouth on you.” rafe moans against your skin, tongue flicking out to press against your breast like he can't get enough of it.

“you can… you can touch me um…” you're about to say down there which just sounds stupid, but rafe thankfully understands you, his hand reaching down to graze his fingertips over your thighs.

he continues teasing, sweeping every time closer to your center until he delves between, finger rubbing against your covered clit as you gasp, back arching off the bed.

“does that feel good?” rafe asks, a smirk gracing his cheeks.

“y-yeah.” you nod quickly, spreading your legs slightly, ignoring the urge to clench them together and trap rafes hand there.

“can i get these leggings out of the way then?”

“take your shirt off first.” you giggle, looking between your exposed body and rafe still completely clothed.

“yes ma’am.” rafe jokes, making you roll your eyes.

you've seen rafe shirtless before, but this is the first time you've been able to unashamedly check him out as your eyes take in every inch of him, every line of muscle and smattering of hair.

rafe is well aware of your eyes on him, subtly flexing his muscles to make them appear bigger as he peels your leggings off your body. you let out a sigh of relief.

rafe presses himself onto the mattress on your side, partly leaned over you so he can continue to play with your chest.

you allow your eyes to close as his hand rubs against your underwear, swirling over the growing wet patch before moving up to your clit, tapping against it before rubbing.

you let out a soft moan, unable to hold back as a high builds inside of you. rafe suddenly presses forward, his hips thrusting against thigh, needing some sort of relief for his hard cock.

“you… you can fuck me now.” you tell rafe, not wanting to have him suffer in waiting.

“two orgasms first.” rafe says, focusing back on rubbing your clit, determined to get you there once before diving between your legs, even though he could drool right now just from the thought.

“i- ohhh.” whatever you were going to say in protest is forgotten as rafe adds a second finger, working them in sync around and over your clit.

“come on baby.” rafe says, breath hot against your neck as he moves up, pressing kisses and nipping gently at your sensitive skin. “i need you to cum for me.”

rafes mouth connects with yours, swallowing your moans as your arms wrap around his shoulders. it only takes a few more moments of his intense rubbing for you to feel something break. your high rushes over you as you cum loudly, squealing and hiding your face in rafes neck as your entire body shakes, surprised by how intense the feeling is.

“i got you.” rafe says softly, his fingers slowing to take you through your high, not stopping until your body slumps against the mattress.

“god, that was beautiful baby.” rafe kisses your forehead, not caring that there's the slightest sheen of sweat covering it. “if you need to stop now…”

“no!” you say quickly, eyes shooting open. “absolutely not, i need you.”

“gonna take your panties off then, yeah?” rafe makes sure you nod before moving lower, sighing with happiness as he pulls the last barrier away.

you don't even hesitate for a second before spreading your legs wide, letting rafe see every single part of you.

rafe looks up at you, a sense of seriousness in his eyes and tone. “you're beautiful. you're absolutely beautiful.”

rafe leans forward, and all it takes is a quick lick through your wetness to have you screaming out in pleasure.

“delicious.” rafe mumbles, pushing his hips into the bed for some relief as his tongue explores your pussy, purposely avoiding your clit knowing you're still coming down from your high.

“i- oh my god.” you squeeze your eyes shut as your hands grip onto the sheets. “i never thought it could feel so good.”

“only because you're with me baby.” rafe presses kisses to your open thighs. “no other man could make you feel this good.”

you chuckle and shake your head. “relax rafe, im not thinking about anyone else, trust me.”

“just making sure.” rafe grins up at you.

his attention quickly returns to your cunt as his tongue makes broad stripes through your folds, flicking over your clit every time he reaches it.

you're almost sure that you can't cum again so soon, that your body surely isn't able to, but your high builds steadily with every swipe of rafes tongue.

despite pressing his hips forward into the bed, rafe barely pays attention to himself, too wrapped up in swirling his tongue to taste every inch of you, wondering how he managed to hold off so long when he's spent so many nights in the same bed as you.

rafe refocuses on your clit, lips suctioning around it as his eyes flicker up to you, watching the surprise and pleasure across your face.

rafe knows he can't let you cum too soon as he raises his hand to prod a finger against your entrance. rafe can tell by how wet you are that opening you up should be easy and painless, and he couldn't probably enter you right now with no issue, but he won't risk it.

rafe keeps his eyes on your face as one long finger pushes inside of you, feeling your gummy walls clench around him at the sudden intrusion, but your face doesn't change from the consistent moans.

rafe begins to pump the finger as his tongue surges forward to press against your clit, tapping the bundle of nerves in the same rhythm as his finger entering you.

“oh- oh my god im close!” you squeal, only spurred closer when rafe fits a second finger inside, your slick making it easy and seamless.

rafe picks up the speed, occasionally scissoring his fingers and feeling your walls give way to his movements.

you thighs attempt to close, the pressure suddenly sending you over the edge, but rafe lays a hand against your leg and keeps them open as your high hits, body shaking as you scream out, clenching repeatedly around rafes fingers.

“mmm.” rafe hums against your clit, pulling away only to press a kiss to your core. “can't wait to feel you squeezing ‘round my cock like that.”

rafe kneels between your legs, watching your chest rise and fall, your nipples perky and pink from his attention. your body is completely slack from the intensity of the two orgasms as rafe undoes the buttons on his pants.

“do you want me to… do anything?” you ask.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “this is all about you baby. ill teach you exactly how i like to be touched some other time.”

“okay.” you nod, glad that you can just relax and let rafe do all the work, especially knowing he's far more experienced than you are.

“you can touch me if you want though.” rafe offers, tugging his pants down so just his underwear is covering his cock, tight against his thighs and clearly bulging against the material.

“i- yeah.” you sit up, forcing your tired body through with the excitement and adrenaline of finally doing this with rafe.

your hand pets over his thigh, moving closer and closer until his cock twitches like it's calling out for you to touch him.

you place your hand firmly over his length, squeezing gently as rafes jaw drops open. such a simple motion but he's surprised how much better it feels having it be you touching him rather than a random girl he has no feelings for.

“god, baby.” rafe groans as you open your palm and stroke it over his length from base to tip. “you're already making me feel so good.”

“want me to keep going?”

rafe is so lost in the feeling he doesn't even realize you've asked him a question until a minute later when his hand rests over yours, stopping you. “no, in fact, i need you to stop before this ends way too soon.”

you can't help but giggle, wrapping your hand around rafes neck and giving him a kiss. “how do you want me?”

“you can lay on your back, or hands and knees, however you want. you can be on top too.” rafe offers as he reaches to his nightstand, digging out a condom.

“um… ill just stay like this.” you say, laying back, knowing you can change your mind later if you need to.

“perfect.” rafe smiles at you, leaning over to press a kiss to your tummy. “you're so perfect.”

you're about to respond when rafe pulls his underwear down and all other thoughts leave your mind.

“like what you see?” rafe smirks, his cock hard and seeming even bigger now that its not hidden by any fabric.

you squeeze your thighs together, and it's the only cue rafe needs to see to understand how much you want this. he wastes no time rolling the condom over his cock, sheathing himself in the latex. it's a non negotiable for your first time, not wanting to overwhelm you with worry about getting pregnant or not liking the feeling of his cum inside you.

rafe is excited for the day when he doesn't need a barrier, but he can wait for you.

“just relax.” rafe says, laying himself down over you. “it'll be better if you don't tighten your muscles. if it does hurt at all-”

you interrupt rafe with a kiss. “ill tell you. i know.”

rafe smiles at you, his cheeks stretching even further when his cock pushes forward and rubs through your folds, covering the condom in your slick.

rafe reaches down to line his cock up with your entrance, pushing in very slowly just in case you change your mind at any minute. he pauses when he feels your hips rise up and body tighten, only for you to take a deep breath and relax a moment later.

“feel so good, baby.” rafe says earnestly, pausing fully pushed inside of you, letting himself enjoy your warmth.

“i- just give me one second.” rafe pushing against your walls feels good, but you need a moment to adjust, hips moving up and down then side to side. “okay.” you nod. “you can move now.”

rafe presses a kiss to your lips as he begins to move, the make out turning into open mouthed moans as his hips swing back and forth, fucking into you with a steady rhythm.

“ohhhh!” you moan out as rafe speeds up slightly, your hands coming to hold onto his biceps, bulging as he keeps himself held up above you.

“that's it, baby.” rafe praises you as your thighs spread further apart, opening your pussy further for him.

“i really like it.” you whine, back arching as rafe digs his cock in deeper, pausing every couple thrusts to circle his hips and grind into you.

“i like it too.” rafe hums. “best ive ever had.”

you roll your eyes, certain any of his other hookups are more experienced and a better time than you, but rafe won't let your doubts slide.

“im serious, baby.” rafe says, not pausing his thrusts as he speaks. “it's because i am completely in love with you.”

“come here.” you pull rafe into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

“you're so good i don't know how long ill last.” rafe admits.

“i-i already think i could too.” you giggle. “if you just touch me down there.”

“im gonna hold off as long as possible though.” rafe vows. “wanna give you the best time.”

“you already have.” you kiss rafe deeply, obsessed with the taste of his lips, the way they slide against yours and his tongue pokes out to enter your mouth, exploring every inch he can.

rafe picks up his pace and depth of his thrusts, knowing now that you've had plenty of time to get used to the feeling. despite wanting to give you the best experience and focus just on the pleasure of being together, he has to put his mind elsewhere to not cum too soon.

“so wet.” rafe groans, head tipping back as the sounds of your wetness gushing with his every thrust, the sound invading his ears along with the slapping of skin.

“ive never felt like this before.” you admit shyly.

“you're gonna feel this a lot more often.” rafe laughs softly, swallowing thickly when he realizes just seeing your smile and the light in your eyes pushes him closer to the edge.

“gonna touch you now, baby.” rafe shifts his weight slightly to one side, hand ghosting down your stomach before he places the pad of his thumb directly over your clit.

“oh, oh!” you squeal. “rafe!”

rafe keeps pumping into you as you moan, your high suddenly bursting forward, unable to hold back even a second longer as your legs wrap around rafes hips and pull him in.

rafe let's out a sigh of relief as he cums as deep inside of you as he can, bodies pressed flush together.

“do you have sunscreen?” you ask. “i know it's autumn and we aren't going to be swimming but it's still pretty bright out.”

“yeah, already got some in the bag.” rafe had woken up early and stayed cuddling you in bed for as long as he could before knowing he needed to get the day started.

while he let your body recover from last night activities, he prepared every single boat anchored on the dock so you could choose any one you wanted, as well as prepared a bag and cooler for the day.

by the time rafe crawled back into bed, you were blinking your eyes open.

“perfect.” you smile and give rafe a quick peck, taking the bag from his hands so he can carry the cooler. you shot down his protest with a quick look.

“fine.” rafe grumbles. “you can carry this one thing.”

“considering i don't even have to lift a finger when you're around, i really don't mind.” you chuckle, following rafe out the back door and across the patio to the long expansive dock stretching deep into the water.

“so…” rafe begins. “there's a smaller speedboat, a pontoon and then obviously the yacht.”

“is it okay if we take the pontoon?” you ask.

“anything you want.” rafe nods. “we got the pontoon for wheezie and her friends, but it's a nice smooth ride and a lot of space. when it gets warmer out im absolutely taking you for a swim.”

“that actually sounds really fun.” you admit. you swam in the ocean a lot in norfolk, always going to virginia beach to be alone with the sand and the calming waves whenever your anxiety levels got too high.

“mhm.” rafe nods. “fun for me too, get you out in a tiny little bikini, away from all other people…”

“oh my god.” you roll your eyes as you laugh. “we had sex once and you're already fantasizing!”

“i was fantasizing about you since the moment i saw you in my seat.” rafe takes the cooler and sets it on the pontoon before taking the bag from you. “i was just gentlemanly enough to keep it to myself.”

“sure.” you roll your eyes again, but it's all in jest, rafe knows you find him hilarious and love his silly jokes. rafe, to prove his gentleman status, reaches a hand down to help you up onto the boat.

“so…” rafe gives you a quick tour, showing you where towels are stored, even though you're not planning on swimming, and lifejackets, just in case.

“but seriously, it's basically impossible to sink a pontoon. you're very safe.” rafe stresses.

“it's okay.” you say. “i trust you, really.”

“my girl.” rafe pulls you onto his lap as he sits down in the captains seat.

rafe navigates easily through the waters, pointing out different landmarks along the coast. “thank you for showing me your home.” you tell rafe, pressing your back into his chest as you round a cove and the wind picks up slightly. “ill show you norfolk one day but it's not as pretty as here.”

“i can't wait to raise kids here.” rafe says. “teach them how to fish and golf and drive the boats.”

“you think about kids?” you turn on rafes thigh to look at him rather than the scenery.

“our kids.” rafe winks at you, causing you to giggle and press your face into his neck, but he really means it, especially bringing you back to his home. he could imagine toddlers footsteps running around tanneyhill.

“you're sweet.” you kiss his cheek.

“don't let that get around.” rafe squeezes your hip as he steers with one hand. “it'll ruin my reputation around here.”

“oh yeah?” you raise your eyebrows. “tell me more about this reputation…”

you happily listen to rafe talk until your stomach starts to growl. he picks up on it quickly, moving the boat further out so you can float down the coast while you eat.

you continue to talk all through lunch, snacking on what rafe had packed.

“there's a million things i want to show you around the island, which means you'll have to start spending all your breaks here if you're not going home.”

“let's see how your family likes me first…” you mutter, giving rafe a look.

“relax. they'll love you. my dad will just be happy i found someone serious. that was the main point of him sending me to duke, was to get my shit together. and i look at you… and i want to be perfect for you. i love you so much.”

“this movie is boring.” you groan. “how can you make a movie about sharks and have it be boring as hell?”

“we can change it.” rafe offers, going to grab the remote when you stop him.

“no, im too deep into it now. i just want to complain.” rafe nods at your explanation and cuddles back into the couch, pulling you in tight to him.

“well…” he whispers in your ear, breath causing you to shiver. “since you're bored, how about i entertain you?”

you're not sure what rafe means until his hand pushes between your thighs, three fingers pressing against your core and rubbing.

“ohhh.” you moan out softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“sorry, love.” rafe says. “i couldn't wait until we got up into bed, not with my family getting home tomorrow. i need you too bad.”

“in… in my pants, please.” you take rafes hand, moving quicker for him to slip it below the hem and into your pajama pants, where rafe is pleased to find you aren't wearing any underwear.

his fingers stroke through your folds, feeling your wetness steadily growing before his finger prods against your entrance, slipping in with ease.

rafe watches as your eyes open to watch a scene playing out on the television before they close again when another boring part comes on, another monologue when you expected action.

“feel good?” rafe asks, glad that you aggressively nod.

“don't you dare stop.” you spread your thighs a little wider, having to lift a leg over his to give him even more room to press into you, hand pressing in so his palm can rub against your clit.

“as soon as this stupid movie is done im taking you upstairs and fucking you so hard.” rafe growls the last words, putting all the effort he can into fingering you and massaging your clit that he possibly can.

his eyes light up when your back arches, mouth opening as small moans fall from your lips before you turn into a shaking mess as your high breaks, reaching down to stop rafes hand as you immediately become oversensitive.

“yum.” rafe says, pulling his hand away to lick your wetness off his fingers.

“ill just read the synopsis later, come on.” you tell rafe, standing up off the couch and pulling him up the stairs.

“please, call me ward.” rafes father says, graciously giving you a hug.

“well, it's nice to meet all of you.” you say with a wide smile on your face to hide your nerves, looking between rafes step mom rose and his littlest sister wheezie who looks genuinely excited to meet you. “and thank you so much for letting me stay in your beautiful home.”

“we were so glad when rafe told us he met someone.” rose lays a hand over her chest. “and my goodness, you're just even better than we imagined.

“she's a keeper for sure.” rafe places an arm around your waist, smiling down at you as you tuck your head down, cheeks tinging pink.

“so, you've got to tell us all about yourself.” ward sweeps his arm towards the living room, and soon you're all chatting on the couch that rafe fingered you on the night before. you push the memory to the back of your mind as you answer all of wards questions (and occasionally a few from wheezie).

“im a duke alumni myself.” ward says.

“oh, im well aware.” you chuckle. “your name is plastered all over the school. i think it's amazing that you invest in your alma mater.”

hours go by, rose insisting you all eat dinner together, before rafe finally has you alone in his room.

“god, they love you.” rafe says, watching you while you changing into pajamas, making him promise he wouldn't try anything with his parents under the same roof.

“i was trying to say all the right things.” you giggle. “i really like wheezie though, she's sweet.”

“im sure she won't argue if you want to take her out shopping tomorrow.” rafe offers.

“id actually love that. maybe ill invite sarah too so i can actually meet her.” sarah had ward drop her off at her boyfriend's house before they even came back home from their vacation, but you can't blame her for being a teen in love.

“ill give you my card then.” rafe says. you roll your eyes. rafe pays for everything, not that it even makes a dent in what you know he's being given as an allowance from ward and cameron enterprises.

“thanks babe.” you climb into bed, snuggling under the covers as rafe sets an alarm on his phone and makes sure both of yours are plugged in and charging.

“come here.” rafe opens up his arms once he's also under the covers, and you're glad to snuggle into his chest, heart rate instantly slowing and breathing deepening just from your cheek being pressed against his tshirt.

“rafe.” you hum, placing a hand on his thigh as he starts up the car.

“yeah baby?” rafe is fully prepared for you to ask to drive, or tell him you're not ready to go yet. he's willing to make whatever concessions needed to get you back to duke.

“can we make a stop in rahleigh? that's where my… friend from high school lives now, and id like to stop by quickly and just tell her im okay and that i accept her apologies.”

rafe nods, blinking away a few tears as he reaches over to give you a tight hug. “im so proud of you baby.”

you press your face into rafes neck, knowing you can do this when you have rafe by your side.

-- four years later --

“are you nervous?” rafe asks, watching you adjust the cap on your head.

“actually, no.” you admit honestly. “and if i do get nervous,” you turn away to face rafe. “ill just look at you.”

“oh god, come here.” rafe pulls you in tight, kissing the top of your head.

“alright, come on.” you step out of the hug before it can go any further. “i dont wanna be late to my own graduation.”

“ah, you know i can delay it all with one phone call.” rafe tugs on your hand, tempting you back towards the bed.

“show off.” you roll your eyes, allowing rafe to pull you back to the mattress.

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