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necrotic-nephilim · 4 months ago

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this is not a ship post, but something that frustrates me a lot in fanon concerning Jason Todd that attempts to soften Jason's return to Gotham for the sake of found family domesticity or easy hurt/comfort or just sliding him into the Batfam sooner, is they all seem to fundamentally misunderstand Jason.

because there seem to be a lot of fandom popular concepts of Jason coming home much sooner and just not having his whole Under The Red Hood arc. which in theory is fine and i can see the want to simplify canon to make room for your lighthearted more fluff-leaning concepts. but in everyone without fail, the way they address the clown-shaped elephant in the room is by having some throwaway line that "oh Jason quietly kills the Joker and moves on".

when the Joker being dead or alive is not the *point*. if by some chance accident, the Joker had died prior to Jason's return, whether by ridiculous freak accident, getting whacked by a fellow villain, hell even someone actually doing so to avenge Jason, it *would not* satiate Jason's anger. because Jason's end goal in UtRH is not to simply kill the Joker: it is to make *Bruce* kill the Joker. Jason's anger is directed to the idea that to Jason, if Bruce truly loved Jason, he would've killed the Joker. that is love, for Jason. compromising your personal values for love and not letting someone go unavenged. when Jason was Robin, almost every angry or misguided thing he did was born of love. he wanted to kill/hurt Two-Face because he believed Dent killed his father. he was so angry at Felipe because an innocent woman was dead due to that man's actions. he wanted to save his mother in a situation he knew he shouldn't be in because he loved her. his anger, his violence, it is driven by love and feelings of righting wrongs. that is how he thinks wrongs *should* be righted. that is how you avenge and *love* someone.

because so long as Jason's return to Gotham doesn't end in Bruce killing the Joker (which, it never will bc Bruce is Bruce), Jason will never forgive Bruce. you cannot wave away the layers of hurt and complicated trauma by killing Joker offscreen. because Jason will still be angry that Bruce didn't avenge him. in his eyes, that means Bruce did not love him enough. he was not truly loved by Bruce the way he loved Bruce. bc Bruce was Jason's whole *world*. prior to being taken in, Dick and Tim, they had support systems. they had loved ones. they knew what stability and healthy family love looked like. Jason *didn't*. and that's not to say that Catherine Todd did not love him with her whole heart and thus he loved her, but it certainly wasn't a stable and safe support system for Jason to grow up in. Bruce was Jason's first real sense of a stable, healthy life. and so of course Jason poured everything into Bruce and loved Bruce so devoutly. Bruce was his world. like he says, if it had been Bruce, Jason would've stopped at nothing.

so his betrayal is rooted in that he was not avenged, not that Joker is alive. so long as the Joker does not die by Bruce's hands, it will never be enough for Jason. (in this era, at least.) notably, this is also why i don't think it would change a thing if Jason knew the whole "oh Bruce wanted to kill the Joker but Superman stopped him" tidbit that fanon has really latched onto as a way to pacify Jason's anger toward Bruce. Jason knowing that wouldn't change a thing, in my opinion. because Jason knows Bruce. and a tenant of Bruce's character is that he grapples with murder *every day*. the whole point is how *easy* it would be for him. he is a human weapon, trained by killers, trained to be deadly. he is the greatest strategist to exist. he knows he could kill someone and get away with it. *no* trace, no proof, nothing. and he knows he *wants* to. wants to kill the Joker, Joe Chill, anyone who's hurt him that viscerally.

but he *doesn't*. that's the point. Bruce wakes up every day with that question on his mind, and every day the answer is the same. Bruce's morality is not a decision he made in an alleyway when his parents died, it's a decision he continues to make every day and he *must* continue to make in order to remain who he is. Jason is quite familiar with the fact that Bruce grapples with this daily. i do not think it surprised nor fazed Jason to know that Bruce did *consider* killing the Joker. that he wanted to. maybe even planned to. but a consideration, a want, a plan, is just a thought. it's nothing substantial, and substance is everything to Jason. at the end of the day, Bruce didn't. he was talked down by *Clark* of all people with an excuse of diplomatic immunity, as if Jason and Bruce don't both know that Bruce could've *easily* found a way to make it look like an accident or some other loophole. because he's Batman. there's always a loophole. he always finds a way when he actually intends to. but he never actually intended to kill the Joker. so he didn't. and Jason would know that there was never an intent. it's an interesting piece of fodder to add to the nuance of Jason and Bruce, but honestly, i think it'd make Jason angrier to have that excuse thrown in his face. as if Bruce hasn't beaten Clark half a dozen times by now. it's a flimsy nonsense excuse that Jason would rip to shreds.

so while yes, i understand the wish for easy lighthearted fanfic that doesn't have to deal with the nuances of canon, i think that Jason's character will always be so deeply robbed and altered if you try to fix his thirst for vengeance with an off-page killing of Joker at Jason's hands. it was never the point. the point was that -in his own eyes- he wasn't loved enough for Bruce to make an acception. he realized that not even his *death* would come before Bruce's Mission. Jason truly believed that Bruce loved him and held him as the most important thing in the world, and now he has proof that Bruce didn't. because the Mission mattered more.

i'm not saying i have a solution to this conundrum if you're attempting to solve it for fanfic/fanon, nor am i even saying it's a bad thing it exists. i just think it becoming overwhelmingly common has led to misunderstandings surrounding Jason's motivations and feelings about this arc and it's an unsatisfying solution that only seeks to pacify Jason's rage and his trauma responses for the sake of found family-ification.

#necrotic festerings #jason todd #fandom meta #idk man this isn't too serious it's really just me noticing this becoming a dominate thing #also this post isn't a subtweet at literally anyone specifically #it's a commentary on a trend as a whole #so no one think i'm like. being shady pls.#and if you write jason killing the joker himself during this era that is okay and it's valid #i just don't want the fandom largely treating it as in character #but ooc fanfic is allowed to exist! that's valid yk!#also i once again wanna reiterate all of this is commentary on *this era*#this is a pre-flashpoint meta.#jason's realtionship to his trauma *wildly* changed in both new-52 and rebirth so yeah. he's at a point he's “moved on”#and either seeks to kill joker himself or seeks to just let go of the whole thing #depending on the arc #(but if i get into that then i get into my feelings on how jason has had no consistent characterization in the past decade. so.)#(that's a can of worms we're not opening here it will make some ppl mad and i'm not dealing with it.)#is this how i start writing serious character metas and not unhinged shippy ones. idk #i've got others in my head but #i fear the discourse #if the discourse on this post gets bad i will turn off replies and reblogs idc #this is me testing the waters. ig.#also if a single person tries to argue about tim not having a loving family i will bite you /lh #yes he did. the drakes make not have done the *best* job! i'm not arguing that.#but they loved him and he had a support system.

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presidentsdaughter · 2 months ago

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SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch.

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

#curly mouthwashing smut #curly smut #captain curly x reader #captain curly smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #curly x reader #mouthwashing curly x reader

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whor3ing · 7 days ago

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𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒔 & 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 | 𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut with a plot, build-up, mentions of gun! minor gunplay!,consent, alcohol, lots of dirty talk, "who did this to you?", thigh riding, spitting, oral (m receiving/f receiving), fingering, creampie, missionary, usage of "slut"

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

IN WHICH.. you, a pouge and JJ Maybank's sister; find yourself caught up in the dangerous world of Rafe Cameron. A world where tattoos, guns, and shady deals intertwine with magnetic, reckless attraction. With a gun in his hand and a taunting smirk on his face, Rafe pushes you to your limits, causing you to question if you've just made the biggest mistake of your life or if you've found something worth all of the danger.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

word count : 8.5k ♡ (plot heavy)

The music was loud, the lights too bright, and the smell of expensive liquor intertwined with the salty scent of the ocean breeze had lingered through the air the second JJ’s beat up Bronco had pulled up to the mansion.

You stared up at the towering estate, its golden glow spilling out onto the cliff side like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. It was the kind of house that wasn’t just meant to be lived in but meant to be seen, meant to remind people exactly who was in charge.

Suddenly, Kie let out a scoff from the passenger seat, her arms crossed as she stared up at the massive structure. “I swear, these Kooks build their houses as high as their egos.”

JJ grinned, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before throwing the car into park. “That’s the whole point, Kie. It’s a giant middle finger to the rest of us.” He twisted around to look at you, his grin widening. “And yet, here we are. About to walk right in like we own the place.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, and if we’re not careful, we’ll be thrown out just as fast," you murmured, tugging at the hem of your dress.

It was shorter than you would’ve liked, a sleek black number Kie had practically forced you into, claiming it had been "made" for you. The fabric clung to you in a way that felt foreign, the deep neckline and thin straps leaving little to the imagination.

You weren’t used to dressing like this—like them. But tonight, the whole point was to simply to blend.

JJ waved off your concern, already climbing out of the car. “Nah, we’ll be fine. Besides, I got a good feeling about tonight.”

Kie sighed, shaking her head as she pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. Her fingers combed through her hair, fluffing it up before smoothing it down again as she responded, “That’s exactly what you said the last time, and we barely made it out without getting our asses handed to us.”

JJ smirked, leaning against the car as he waited for the two of you. “Yeah, but we did make it out, didn’t we?”

You pushed open the truck door with a groan, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. The air outside felt cooler than it should for a night like this, the salty breeze carrying the faint echoes of laughter and music from the mansion perched above you.

The Kook mansion had been a spectacle of itself for decades, a proud testament to wealth and success. It stood on a tall cliff above the water, amidst the lush greenery that surrounded it, higher than almost any other point on the rest of the strip.

To anyone other than a Kook, it was ridiculous that a house could hold so much power. That those inside of it could consider themselves elite for receiving an invitation, while those without one were made to feel as though they were less than human.

Like everything in the Outer Banks, it wasn’t just a mansion, it was a symbol. A symbol of immense wealth, a symbol of everything you and your friends could never reach. The kind of wealth that didn’t just buy things, but dictated the rules of the game. The kind of power that made sure you stayed on the outside looking in.

Though, that couldn't stop you from playing pretend.

Kie adjusted her dress, giving you a sideways look. “Ready or not, we’re here. Let’s just get inside before anyone notices we don’t have an invite."

You gave her a dry look. “You really think that’s going to stop them from noticing?”

JJ laughed, flicking a glance at the front doors, through the metal gate where the golden light spilled out into the driveway. Expensive cars lined up like trophies scattered in the front yard, their sleek, polished frames reflecting the shine of the house. “It’s not about whether they notice. It’s about whether they care.” He raised an eyebrow. “And they won’t, not if we play the game right.”

Kie rolled her eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, sure. And if not, we’ll just pretend we’re lost tourists who wandered in.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Right. No one will notice the three of us sticking out like a sore thumb.”

You stepped through the gates, the sound of your heels clicking sharply against the cobbled driveway as the front doors loomed ahead. The laughter and music grew louder, wrapping around you like a thick, inescapable blanket.

As you stepped inside, the shift was immediate, like you were crossing into a world that felt too polished, too perfect. The heat hit you first—the heavy warmth from the bodies packed into every corner, the mingling of perfume and expensive cologne, of freshly popped champagne and the faint scent of something floral mixed with the underlying tang of sea salt. The scent of luxury was almost suffocating, coating the air like a fine mist.

The music played louder here, thumping in your chest as you navigated through the crowd. A thousand sounds hitting you all at once, all in sync. As voices collided, they rose above the murmurs of low conversations, muddling the chatter together. It was as if every sound was immediately amplified, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of blaring cheers. It felt like being in the middle of a painting—everyone moving with the same rhythm, all polished smiles and flawless appearances.

The crowd was absolutely suffocating, the music blaring so loud it felt like your entire body was vibrating. You tried to follow Kie and JJ, but somehow, they slipped away, swallowed by the sea of bodies dancing and laughing around you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself alone, weaving through people who were too caught up in their own worlds to notice you.

You moved through the house, the laughter from the party slowly becoming more and more distant until finally the voices were muffled by the thick walls of the mansion.

Turning a corner, you hope to catch a glimpse of JJ and Kie , but instead, you find yourself in a small, dimly lit room. The air heavy, thick with smoke and the high-end liquor.

The room was dark and open, lit only by a few dim lamps casting shadows on the faces around you. The space felt increasingly lavish and almost vintage, like the room had come out of something from the 1950's. A rich, dark wallpaper lined the walls, patterned with deep shades of gold and burgundy adding to the luxurious fever dream that surrounded you.

In the corner of the room rested a grand piano, the lighting reflecting off of it's keys and a couple sitting on top of the worn bench, their lips intertwined as his hands wandered down her body.

You turned your attention to the far side of the room, where a group of people were huddled together in a tight circle. At first, it looked like any other gathering, casual chatter, some laughter. But there was something about the way they were all so fixated on the center of the group, their eyes wide with awe. And there, at the heart of it, was Rafe fucking Cameron.

JJ had warned you about him more times than you cared to count. His warnings had a way of sticking with you, of hanging in the air even when you wished you could forget them. "Rafe's a loose cannon," he’d said, his tone more serious than you were used to hearing. "Stay the hell away from him, okay?" JJ's face had twisted in frustration, like there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. It wasn’t hard to imagine why.

Rafe had done things to make JJ's life a living hell—a complicated mess of history, unspoken grudges, and bad blood that ran too deep for anyone to fully understand.

But even with JJ’s warnings, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

He was leaning back against the wall, his arm draped casually over the shoulder of one of his friends, a smirk playing on his lips as he spoke. The low lighting of the room cast shadows across his sharp features, accentuating the hardened lines of his jaw, the slight curve of his lip that twisted with a quiet confidence. His messy, sun-bleached hair fell just above his brows, his blue eyes on full display.

But what caught your attention wasn’t the casual conversation, or the curve of his lip, it was the gun. The gleam of metal in his hand, held loosely, as if it was just another part of the game.

His presence was magnetic, you could feel it the moment you had walked in, and you could feel it even now as you quietly pushed yourself to the further corner from all of them, leaning against the wall. You couldn't help but notice how he looked almost bored as he casually twirled a gun between his fingers, showing it off, his smirk never wavering.

The way he handled it made it clear this wasn’t just some toy, it was a statement.

“Don’t worry, man,” one of his friends slurred to someone else, clearly in shock of Rafe's casual demeanor, barely able to keep his eyes open. “It’s just a gun.”

Rafe’s smirk only widened, his gaze flicking over to the crowd around him. “It’s all about who’s holding it,” he said, the words low and smooth, almost like a warning. “Don’t forget that.”

His friends laughed, but it wasn't their laughter that made your stomach twist. It was the way Rafe held the entire room, the way everyone seemed to move around him, like they knew better than to get too close, to make too much noise. He was dangerous, and everybody in this room knew it.

You stood there, frozen,something about the weight of his presence made your heart race. He was dressed casually, but the clothes he wore somehow added to the danger he radiated. A black leather jacket hugged his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the few tattoos that snaked down his forearms.

His hands were bare, the tattoos sharp and stark against his pale skin, and with every movement he made, every subtle gesture, only drew more attention to them.

His jeans were dark, fitted, and the kind that looked effortlessly expensive. His boots were black, worn, and scuffed at the toes; and you couldn’t help but notice the way his tattoos peeked out from under his jacket every time he would move, his black shirt sliding up just to reveal the skin of his lower stomach, hidden tattoos snaking down from his stomach to his v-line, the ink like a map of his past.

From your spot against the wall, someone brushed past you, maybe too close, their hand grazing your hip in what could only be described as an attempt to get your attention. You instinctively took a step to the side, further away from the advance, the unwanted touch sending a jolt of discomfort through your body.

But before you could even process the movement, Rafe’s voice cut through the air, low and controlled but still managing to fill the entire room. His eyes glanced up, for once, to look directly at you and then back to the man who had touched you, the gun in his grasp as he pointed it up at the man's head.

“You touch her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The room fell silent.

Everyone froze, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Rafe didn’t need to say anything more. His eyes, dark and unwavering, flickered to the gun in his hand, the metal gleaming in the dim light.

The guy who had brushed past you seemed to hesitate, the realization of just how serious Rafe was slowly sinking in. Rafe gave him a look, one so cold, so lethal, that the guy stumbled back a step, his face draining of color as he backed away from you.

Rafe didn’t even acknowledge the guy’s retreat, his eyes never leaving you as he shifted his weight, walking over to you, sliding the gun into the front pocket of his jeans. His smirk curled at the edges as he reached you, dark and knowing.

The party around you continued, Rafe's friends continuing to drink and laugh about what had just happened, a few men in the room leaning in to snort a line of some crushed up drug.

“You think you're a fucking kook now, huh?” he asked, the words sliding out with a smoothness that made your stomach churn.

You took a half-step back, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, his words wrapping around you. “What?”

Rafe’s grin widened, though there was no humor in it. “You’re a Pogue. Don’t even pretend you belong here,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, but somehow carrying over the buzz of the party.

His gaze flickered over your outfit, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your skin feel too tight. “But here you are, trying to blend in like one of us.”.

He spoke again, his voice low but sharp. “What’s the plan, huh? You think you’re gonna fool anyone in here?”

You swallowed, heart racing. “I’m not trying to fool anyone,” you snapped.

Rafe took a slow step toward you, his posture relaxed but everything about him screamed danger. “Then why the fuck are you here?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

His question hung in the air, weighty and unsettling. Your chest tightened, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.

“I’m here because I wanted to be."

Rafe tilted his head, his lips curling into that same devilish smirk that made you infuriated. “You think you’re gonna get away with this? The whole pretending game?” he asked, his voice low and taunting.

The tension between you was thick, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking what had been eating at you. You stepped closer, more out of instinct than anything else, and shot him a sharp look, your eyes on his.

“Why did you protect me then?” you asked, your voice coming out a little rougher than you intended. “What’s the point of that if i'm a everything you despise?”

“I might not know what the hell you’re doing here, but I'm not gonna sit here and watch an fucking assault happen. It doesn't make you special, would've done it for anyone in that situation."

His words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, the harshness of his usual demeanor seemed to soften, leaving you caught somewhere between confusion and relief. Before you could respond, you heard the familiar voices of JJ and Kie calling out through the crowd, growing louder as they approached.

“Where the hell did you go?” JJ’s voice was sharp, his tone laced with annoyance. His eyes darted around the room before landing on you, and the moment they did, his expression darkened.

He was already walking toward you, his shoulders stiff with frustration. “What the hell are you doing with him?” he snapped, eyes narrowing at Rafe, his eyes finding the gun in his pocket and staying trained on it.

“I’m fine, JJ,” you said quickly, holding up a hand to stop him before he could say anything more. You didn’t need him to make a scene right now, but JJ wasn't having it.

You’re fine?” JJ shot you a glare. “You’re fine with this asshole?”

Rafe stood there, not saying a word, his posture relaxed as if he didn’t care about the fight brewing right in front of him. But you could feel the silent tension building between the two of them, like a storm ready to break.

Kie sighed, her voice softer as she stepped forward to rest her hand on JJ's shoulders. “Come on, let’s just get out of here."

JJ’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching tight as he took a step forward, his voice rising as he began to speak, “You think you can just walk in here and mess with my sister, Rafe? You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he spat.

Rafe didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem to care. His eyes remained cold, calculating as they locked onto JJ. The smirk that usually accompanied Rafe’s demeanor was gone, replaced by an icy calmness that only made the tension worse.

“You’re gonna try and lecture me now, JJ?” Rafe asked, his voice smooth, almost mocking. “You’ve got no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s it,” JJ growled, taking another step closer. His anger was boiling over now, and you could see the muscles in his arms tense as if he was ready to throw a punch at any moment. “You don’t get to fuck with me, my sister, or anyone I care about. Not anymore, I'm gonna put you and your fucking family in the hospital."

Before you could even react, JJ launched himself forward, fists flying. The first punch landed square on Rafe’s jaw with a sickening thud, causing the entire room to momentarily quiet down, every conversation sputtering to a halt.

Rafe didn’t stagger, didn’t even seem fazed by the hit. He stood there for a second, the look in his eyes calculating, before his hand shot out, grabbing JJ by the shirt collar and shoving him back against the wall with an insane force.

JJ’s chest heaved, struggling to break free, his hands scrabbling at Rafe’s arm, but Rafe’s hold was like iron, “Get the fuck off me, Cameron."

With a vicious twist of his body, he slammed his knee into Rafe’s stomach, the blow landing with a sickening crunch.

In one smooth movement, he broke free of Rafe’s hold, launching a swift uppercut into Rafe’s chin. The punch landed with bone-shaking force, knocking Rafe back a couple steps, and knocking the gun from his pocket, causing it to spin in circles on the wooden floor. Rafe was met with a punch to the lip as JJ turned him around with his force, pinning Rafe against the wall in the same way he just had done to JJ.

“Damn, Maybank,” Rafe muttered, his voice tight with pain but laced with something almost grudgingly respectful.

JJ’s hands were shaking as he grabbed the gun from the floor, his fingers trembling around the cold metal.

One of Rafe’s friends, a tall guy with messy hair, was the first to make a move. He lunged at JJ, shouting at him to drop the gun, his voice filled with panic and anger. Another guy stepped forward, his fists clenched, his gaze hard and dangerous, eyes locked on the weapon in JJ’s trembling hands.

"Stay the fuck back," JJ growled, his voice low and strained.

He yanked the weapon back, barely managing to avoid the man's grasp. The group was closing in on him now, surrounding him in a tightening circle, but JJ refused to back down.

"JJ, give me the gun," you said softly, "You don’t need to do this."

Kie's voice broke the silence. She glanced at JJ, her voice steady as she spoke, “JJ, listen to her. You don’t have to do this. None of us want this.”

“You think they’ll just let us walk away from this, Kie?” JJ’s voice cracked, filled with frustration and a hint of defeat. “They’re not gonna stop. Not after everything… after what he—”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and gently, you pried the gun from his grip. His hands lingered on it for a second longer, the metal still warm from his touch, but then, with a heavy sigh, he let go.

Within an instant, you drop it back on the floor beneath you, moving it away from everyone.

Kie moved closer to JJ, her hand resting on his arm as she smiled at him, "Come on, JJ,” she said, her voice calm yet firm. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

You watched as she guided him out, her hand holding his as they walked down the hall. Kie turns back to you, her eyes glinting, "Do you wanna stay?"

You glanced back at Kie, who was already halfway down the hall with JJ. She had given you the choice, and it felt like you could either walk away or take a deeper dive into the mess that was Rafe Cameron.

You made your choice. You straightened your shoulders, meeting Kie’s eyes before giving a nod. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Kie didn’t say anything more, just shot you a quick, understanding glance before disappearing down the hallway with JJ.

Rafe's presence felt heavier now, more intense. He hadn’t moved, still leaning casually against the wall, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. He watched you approach, his eyes still sharp.

“Not leaving?” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, his gaze flicking to the door where Kie and JJ had just vanished.

“No,” you replied, your tone steady. “But I think you’re gonna need some help.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, stepping past him toward the back hallway. You motioned for him to follow, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on you, calculating. He pushed himself off the wall and trailed behind, his footsteps quiet.

You led him to a small, secluded room at the back of the mansion. The door clicked shut behind you, and the noise from the party seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your breaths in the silence.

The room was dark, with only a small lamp casting faint light on the walls. There was an old couch in the corner and a low coffee table cluttered with liquor bottles, glasses, and half-empty cigarette butts.

Rafe stood by the door for a moment, watching you as you grabbed a first aid kit from a shelf nearby. You could feel his gaze on you, intense as he stood against the frame of the door.

“Sit down,” you ordered, your voice sharper than you intended. “I’m not going to patch you up if you’re standing.”

He raised an eyebrow, but did as you said, sinking down onto the couch with a grunt. You moved around him, gathering supplies and perching yourself on the couch next to him, his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh, whether he noticed he did that or not.

When you turned back toward him, his voice sliced through the silence, smooth but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Why didn’t you just let him shoot me?” Rafe asked, his voice low, almost curious, but the intensity in his eyes was undeniable. “You knew what he was about to do. You could’ve let him. Hell, you probably should’ve let him.”

“I wasn’t gonna let JJ go that far,” you said, voice tight. “He may be pissed, but he’s still my brother. He doesn’t need that on his conscience.”

His wounds weren’t too bad—at least, not the ones you’d seen before. His lip was split, blood still crusted at the edges, and the faint bruising on his cheek was already starting to darken. His knuckles were scraped and raw from the fight with JJ, and a few small cuts dotted his arms.

He leaned forward, pulling his jacket off and his shirt to let you tend to his wounds. You couldn't help but notice his abs were sharply defined, each muscle cutting through his skin with precision, like they had been carved, as if he were a sculpture come to life.

The light reflected off his skin in a way that made the muscles look so fucking good, creating shadows and highlights along his chest and stomach. His face and his body was a completely lethal combo, and there was no way to describe him other than perfection.

However, there was something else, there were fresh cuts on his torso, long and shallow, a few looking as if they’d been done recently, barely healed, and they weren’t from the fight with JJ.

“Where did those come from?” you asked quietly, your eyes meeting his. “Those weren’t from JJ. Who did this to you?”

"Does it really matter?" he muttered, his voice thick with something you couldn't quite place.

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment, wincing as you bandage up his cuts. Your eyes lingering a little too long at the ink on his skin, dark tattoos that sprawled across his lower stomach, intricate designs that dipped dangerously close to his V-line, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. You couldn’t help but stare, your fingers hesitating over the fresh scrapes on his ribs.

Rafe noticed. Of course, he did.

“See something you like?” His voice was pure arrogance, laced with amusement, his smirk deepening as he caught the way your eyes lingered.

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the first-aid kit instead of the way your body reacted to him. “I see someone who needs to shut up and let me do this.”

Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you don’t really hate me.”

Your eyes flickered down, at his hand, resting casually on your thigh as you placed a bandage on his torso, close to his rib. But his hand rested on you like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t something completely inappropriate given the situation.

Your breath caught, but Rafe didn’t seem to care. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched like he was enjoying this. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re really making this about me right now?” His voice was thick with amusement as he saw your expression the moment you looked down at his hand,“Kinda cute, though. You worried about me?”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading where his hand touched you. “I just asked a question.”

“And I just gave an answer.” He smirked, fingers flexing ever so slightly, like he was testing how much you’d let him get away with. “Not my fault you’re sitting so close, princess.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, dabbing at the cut on his ribs a little harder than necessary. He barely flinched, his smirk only growing.

“And yet,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’re still here.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his other hand lifted, tracing lightly along your arm, his touch featherlight, teasing.

It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you, like he already knew what you were thinking before you could say it. His blue eyes flickered down to your lips.

“You gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

You hated that he was right. Hated that your pulse spiked when his fingers trailed higher, his grasp interlocking around your throat gently, his hands gliding against the skin there, rubbing at the sides of your neck.

“Still pretending?” Rafe murmured, his voice dark with amusement.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You couldn’t answer, not when his grip flexed slightly, just enough to make your pulse hammer beneath his palm. He watched you carefully, his eyes flickering between yours, reading every reaction, soaking in every shaky breath.

“I should hate you,” you finally managed, though it sounded weak, unconvincing.

“Maybe,” he hummed, tilting his head, his lips a hair’s breadth from yours. “But you don’t.”

And then he kissed you, slow at first, teasing, his lips brushing against yours just enough to make you chase him. But when you did, he pulled you in completely, deepening the kiss with a quiet groan, his other hand gripping your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. His tongue slid against yours, the taste of whiskey lingering between you both.

Every inch of him felt so consuming; his warmth, his strength, the way he made you feel like you were both on the edge of something thrilling and dangerous.

Your breath hitched as his hand slid up your side, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your thigh, and it felt like every touch of his was electrifying you, burning you from the inside out.

Rafe’s lips pulled away from yours for a fraction of a second, enough to breathe out a low chuckle. “You’re not even pretending anymore, are you?”

Before you could respond, he guided you to straddle his lap, your thighs pressed around his right leg as his left hand found your neck, grasping it once again. His other hand grasping your hip, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“C’mon, princess. I know you wanna move.”

You swallowed hard, the heat between you almost unbearable, but you didn’t move, not yet. His smirk deepened at your hesitation, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“What? You need me to tell you what to do?” His voice was pure arrogance, dripping with amusement as he presses his thigh up between your legs, the pressure making you whimper. “Go ahead. Ride my thigh, baby. Make a mess on my jeans."

The rough denim of his jeans presses against your already throbbing pussy and his hands guide your hips, forcing you to grind against him.

“There you go,” he groans, watching you with dark, hooded eyes. “Fuck, you feel good. Look at you—so needy and you haven’t even gotten my cock yet.”

"Keep going,” Rafe murmurs as his lips find yours again, his voice low and dangerous. He smiles into the kiss, his voice raspy as he encourages you even more, “Take what you need, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

"Rafe," you gasp, looking into his eyes.

"Look at you, fucking slut. Can't get enough can you?" He looks you in the eyes, his mouth open smiling as he hears you moan for him. "Yeah? You like rubbing that dripping pussy all over my thigh?"

You nod eagerly, unable to form words as he continues to tease you. Your heart races with anticipation, your body aching for his touch.

Without warning, he slides his hand between your legs, rubbing against your soaking wet pussy through your panties. You gasp, arching your back as a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine.

He holds you still, his fingers rubbing against your folds as he places soft kisses on your neck and your jaw. When he speaks again, his voice is velvety and hoarse, "Oh fuck... god.. you're so fuckin' wet I can feel it through your panties."

His fingers slide inside your panties, finding your clit and circling it gently, he pauses tapping his fingers against your clit as he talks, "I can't wait to be inside of there baby."

You moan softly as he presses harder, your hips bucking into his hand. "Mmm fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his other hand tugging at the waistband of your panties.

He stops touching you instantly, his hands letting go of your body completely. "Let me see that pretty pussy baby," he coos, a smile playing at his lips, "C'mere, get on the couch for me slut."

Your heart races as you climb onto the couch, spreading your legs wide for him. He takes his time, running his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you with his touch before he reaches behind you, unzipping your dress and sliding it off of you, throwing it onto the floor.

Rafe moves from his spot next to you, facing you and instead climbs down onto the floor in front of your spread legs.

He kneels between your legs, his eyes locked on your panties. Within an instant he begins to kiss your thighs, his tongue running along the skin of your thighs up to your cunt. He presses a small kiss to your covered pussy, his hands reaching up to hold your thighs apart, and his eyes trained on your facial expressions as he teases you.

Smiling through his teeth, he slowly bites at your underwear, pulling it from your core before snapping it back, again and again.

"Want me to take these off? hmmm.. love?"

You nod eagerly, unable to hide your anticipation as he slowly slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

His breathing becomes ragged as he slowly runs his fingers through your folds, teasing you with his touch. You gasp, arching your back as he finds your clit and starts to tease it gently, as he licks his lips.

"My god look at this fuckin' pussy.."

He smiles rubbing at your clit and looking up at you, his hands reach up leaving your legs to rub at your tits, finding them and toying with your nipples.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. He pushes two fingers into your wetness, finding your G-spot and massaging it gently as he sucks on your clit.

His other hand continues to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his eyes stay on yours.

" You fucking dirty girl, you like it when I eat your cunt and look at you like this?" You moan louder at his words, your hips bucking against his hand and his tongue as he works your pussy. His tongue sliding against your clit, flicking against it while his fingers fuck up into you.

"Please," you whimper, your hands gripping the couch as you try to hold yourself back. "Please, I need more." He grins against your skin, pulling back slightly to look at you with lust-filled eyes.

Rafe chuckles, his lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the heat radiating from his gaze. "You want more?" His voice is thick with amusement, and there's an undeniable edge to it. But there's something else there, too, something dangerous. His hand moves to the back of his waistband, and for a brief second, your eyes catch the gleam of cold metal.

He notices your shift in focus and raises an eyebrow, leaning in again, his lips brushing over your ear. "You see it, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a whisper.

His hand rests casually on the gun hidden beneath his jacket, and the simple gesture makes your breath catch in your throat.

He smiles at you, bringing the gun up and resting the barrel against your thigh as he continues to speak, "You like this, don't you?" he murmurs, his lips curling into a grin.

"You know how this game works," he murmurs, his lips curling into a devilish grin. His free hand brushes your cheek, his fingers warm against your skin despite the cold of the handgun.

You swallow, speaking carefully. “I want this. But I need you to hear me—only if you're sure. I need to feel safe, Rafe.”

His smirk falters for a split second, and he studies you closely, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. The gun never leaves your thigh, but there’s a shift, a subtle understanding.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice quieter now. "It's not loaded."

With slow, deliberate movements, he lowers the barrel of the gun from your thigh. Your heart skips a beat, unsure of what he’s about to do next, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you watch as he opens the chamber.

He holds it up for you to see, the empty slot glaring back at you. "It's not loaded," he says again, his tone absolute.

The cold metal of the gun presses against your skin, its icy chill sending a shiver all the way up your spine. It feels heavier than you expected, the solid weight of it a stark contrast to the warmth of your own body.

As Rafe moves the barrel ever so slightly, you feel it shift, teasing your thigh with its frigid surface as it skims along your skin. He smiles, licking his lips as he keeps his eyes on yours and his hands on your thighs, holding them still.

Rafe groans, "tell me you want me to fuck you like this..please baby.."

"Please.. I want to feel it, fuck me with it." As soon as the words fall from your lips he lets out a moan, the barrel presses against your entrance and slowly he guides it inside.

He smile as the cold metal of the gun enters you, your pussy tingling with sensations of the coldness and also of the newfound excitement.

Slowly, Rafe begins to move it inside of you, fucking you.

"God fuck.. that's so hot," He whines, his other hand that was rubbing your thigh moves to your cunt, his fingers toying with your clit.

You feel your body tense up as he starts to rub your clit in a circular motion, his fingers finding just the right spot. "Fuck yeah, baby," he moans, his voice deep and husky.

"mm.. you're safe baby, don't worry just enjoy it for me slut."

Your head falls back against the couch and your breathing hitches, your moaning becoming erratic. "Fuck, yes," he groans, his fingers never stopping their rhythmic motion.

You feel your body shuddering as the pleasure builds up inside you. You moan loudly, arching your back as you feel your orgasm approaching.

"I'm gonna come," you pant, your voice sounding strained.

Rafe chuckles, his fingers leaving your clit to rub at your thighs again. He smiles, "play with those tits for me baby, rub them when you come for me on this gun."

You reach up and start massaging your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as Rafe continues, making your cunt feel so good.

"Fuck, that's it baby, clench around it," Rafe moans, his fingers rubbing your thighs as he speeds up the movement of the gun inside of you.

"Come on it for me, do it," He groans, watching as your thighs begin to shake, your eyes rolling back as you moan and pant heavily, coming for him all over his weapon.

"Fuck, you're squeezing it so tight.. oh god..baby"

He smiles as you come, his hands leaving your thighs as you finish. Without a word he slides the barrel out of your cunt, his mouth practically drooling as he drops the gun onto the floor beside you both.

"God, you're so fucking good."

You pant, moaning and smiling. "I want more, please Rafe," you murmur.

"You want my cock, don't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, instead he moves his mouth away, pushing two fingers into your tight heat, curling them against your G-spot as he uses his thumb to rub tight circles around your clit.

"If you want my cock you have to get it as wet as this pussy is."

Without warning, he stands up, pulling his fingers out of you as he goes to sit back down on the couch. You let out a small moan of disappointment, but he silences it with a quick kiss on your lips.

He looks at you, his eyes filled with desire. "Now it's my turn," he says, his voice low and husky.

"Take my pants off for me, baby."

You nod, your heart racing as you reach for his belt, climbing down on the floor in between his thighs.

He helps you by lifting his hips, making it easier for you to slide his pants and boxers down his muscular thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and ready for you. You gasp at the sight of it, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight before you.

He smirks, knowing he has your full attention now. "Now what do you think, baby? Do you like what you see?"

Your fingertips graze over his warm skin, tracing the outline of his erect cock. You can feel how big he is as you trace it with your fingertips, and you can feel your heart racing as you wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking up and down.

He lets out a low moan, his eyes closing as he leans back against the couch, giving you better access to his throbbing cock. You continue to stroke him, moving your hand faster and faster.

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping your motion. He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours.

"I want you to suck my cock, baby," he says, his voice low and demanding. He smiles at you, his eyes burning into yours.

"Do you think you can be a good girl and do that for me? Suck my cock baby, mm.. let me stuff my cock deep down your throat."

Your hands stroke the base of his cock, your mouth moving to kiss his tip softly, all of his precum falling onto your lips, as if it is a perfect lipgloss.

Rafe moans, his voice raspy as he bites his lip. "Oh god, yeah.." He smiles, chuckling down at you, "wait wait wait.."

He smiles, his hand reaching to push you back a little further. "Stick out your tongue, angel."

Instinctively, you stick out your tongue, it glistening with your own saliva. He smiles leaning forward as he urges your face upward, towards him.

Rafe maneuvers the tip of his cock at your tongue, slapping it on your wet mouth, one, two, three, times.

Precum leaks onto your tongue as he slaps it on their, groaning as you close your mouth around his tip the second he stops hitting it against it.

You feel the head of his cock pushing against the back of your throat, and you gag slightly. Rafe's hand grips your hair tighter, pulling your head back and forth along his shaft.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You're such a good little cocksucker."

You moan around his cock, unable to form words as he continues to thrust deeper into your throat. Your nose presses against his lower abdomen, as his cock flows into your throat.

He pulls your head back further, pushing his cock deeper, stretching your throat around his thick shaft. He grunts with pleasure, enjoying the tight feeling of your throat as you choke on his cock.

Rafe pulls you off of his cock, his hands grab your face on both sides as he looks into your eyes.

"You're so beautiful, open your mouth up."

Obeying, you open up your mouth, sticking your tongue out again. You watch as Rafe bends forward, urging your chin up and then slowly he spits, it dripping down onto your tongue.

"Now you're gonna take that and you're gonna rub it all on that cunt for me, got it?"

You smile, spitting onto your own hand as he lets go of your face for just a second. Instantly, you move your hand down to your cunt, your fingers sliding the sticky saliva onto your folds.

"good slut," Rafe smiles, praising you as he watches you rub your clit for him from his position on the couch.

Rafe reaches out as soon as you begin rubbing and grabs onto your hair, moving it out of the way so you can suck him off, "God.. you're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?" he growls, his hot breath hitting your face.

You nod eagerly, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting his cock. As you take him deeper into your mouth, he lets out a low moan of pleasure. You can feel his erection throbbing against your tongue, and you begin to bob your head up and down, taking more of him into your mouth.

Rafe's hands find their way to your head, gripping tightly as he guides your movements. "Oh fuck... stay right fucking there, don't you move.." He groans.

Rafe thrusts into your mouth, your saliva sliding all over his dick as he fucks into your throat, causing you to moan against his shaft. As you continue to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat, Rafe's hips start to buck wildly, his moans becoming more intense. You can feel his cock twitching, pulsing with every thrust, filling your mouth with his length.

"god.. get up lay on this couch for me sweetheart."

You listen, smiling as you stand up from the floor, laying on the couch on your back. Instantly, Rafe is in front of you his cock resting against your thigh as he positions himself at your entrance.

Rafe's hips press closer to you, his tip teasing your entrance, resting right on top of your pussy.

"God, look at how deep I'm gonna be in there.."

You look down, propping a pillow behind your head as you see his length against you. Rafe's cock is so big that fully inside of you, he'll be inside of your stomach.

The thought makes you shudder with need. "Please Rafe, I want you to slide it deep inside of me," You moan, your pussy clenching, "I can't wait to feel you inside me."

Without further hesitation, he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your wet entrance. Leaning down, his lips find yours in a passionate kiss as Rafe slowly pushes all the way inside of you.

You gasp at the sensation of his thick shaft filling you up, feeling every inch of him stretch your tight walls. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal force. The couch nearly creaks under your weight as you grind against each other, lost in the moment.

"You like it rough, don't you.. yeah?" Rafe chuckles, his lips against yours as he speaks, fucking you so good all at the same time. "You know why you like it rough.. You're a fucking.." He groans, cutting himself off, "Jesus... oh , fuckin' slut."

You're eyes close as you moan, feeling Rafe fucking Cameron so deep in your stomach. Something you had never expected to happen.

"I want to look at your face while I fuck you," he moans, "Keep your eyes on me baby."

You open your eyes, your gaze finding his as he pounds into your cunt, so deep. "Look down baby.. look at it go in there.."

You look down at his cock, the space between you just big enough for you to see his dick disappear into your cunt and reappear.

"God, you feel amazing... fuck.." One of his hands reaches up to squeeze at your tits, his fingertip circling on your nipples.

"Oh god, I'm gonna come, Rafe" you moan, your voice shaking with anticipation. You cling onto him tighter, your nails digging into his back as he thrusts deeper into you, leaving marks, leaving him new injuries.

"Come for me again, come all over my cock.. god.." Rafe moans, feeling you spasm around his dick, but he doesn't stop fucking you. "I can feel you trembling on my cock, so close… don't hold back, just come on my cock."

"I'm gonna fuck you through it, baby.." He smiles, groaning as he feels your pussy clench around him, your cum coating his cock inside of you.

Rafe's thrusts become even more forceful, driving his cock deeper into your wet, tight pussy. His hand moves to your chin, lifting your head up to look into his eyes. "God, you're so beautiful when you come like that," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

Rafe notices your body tensing and grins, his hand moving from your chin to your throat, caressing your skin softly. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. You nod, unable to form words, your mind consumed by the pleasure he's giving you.

He thrusts harder, deeper, feeling your pussy clench around his cock. The sound of your moans fill the room, mixing with the wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby... god yes I'm gonna come in that pussy."

He leans down, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting you. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling with pleasure. The tension builds up inside of you, your pussy clenching around Rafe's cock, milking him dry.

You moan as you feel his hot come enter you, painting your insides white. You can feel his seed flow into you, dripping everywhere. "God.. fuck yes.."

Sighing, Rafe pulls out of you. His cock soaked with your come and wetness and your pussy soaked in his. Instinctively, Rafe reaches out to slide his fingers into you.

His fingers gently toy with your g-spot as you moan, whimpering because your cunt is too sensitive. "mmm.. look at all of my come in you.."

He smiles, plunging his fingers in and out of you before he pulls them out completely, bringing them up to your clit where he rubs his come that was inside you onto your clit.

"God you're so good.." He chuckles, stopping his rubbing as he leans forward to kiss you. He places a gentle peck on your lips before bringing his fingers that were just inside of you up to your mouth.

"Stick your tongue out for me, one more time angel.."

You listen, poking your tongue out from your mouth. Rafe slides his fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking around them and tasting his come mixed with yours.

"So beautiful, god you took it so good.."

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, still feeling the electricity between you both. He motions for you to stand and he lays on the couch, patting his chest where you immediately come lay, his arms wrapping around you. A small, amused smile tugged at your lips as you glanced up at him.

JJ is going to kill me if he finds out,” you muttered.

Rafe's lips curled into that cocky grin of his. “Just don’t tell him,” he said casually, as if it was the simplest solution. “I’m sure he won’t notice.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “Right. Because JJ’s just going to… not notice?”

Rafe chuckles softly, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Just don’t tell him," he murmurs with a wink. "What happens here, stays here."

"Would've helped if we locked the door," you murmur, sighing as you see the door cracked open.

Rafe laughs, his voice low and teasing. “I thought you liked a little risk,” he says, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he looks over at the door. "Besides, no one's here but us. And if they were, well…" He pauses, his lips curling into that signature cocky grin, "they're too high to remember any of it."

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Did you forget I’m a Pogue?” you ask, teasingly, your voice laced with amusement. “Pretty sure Kooks don’t exactly mix with us, especially not like this.”

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly, his grin never fading. “You sure? ‘Cause, if I remember correctly, you seem to be enjoying this just fine." He leans in a bit, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Maybe you’re just my exception."

thank you so much for reading! sorry for any writing mistakes as always ♡

i had to add in the who did this to you trope, i just had to

ೃ࿐ chratt fic dealers : currently working on

ೃ࿐ chratt fic tutors : currently working on

ೃ࿐ suit & tie — chris sub blurb

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