rafe gets weird about you real fast. like not just "i wanna fuck her" but "i need her or i'll die" levels of obsession. thinks about kidnapping you when heâs high. imagines you tied to his bed in his shitty frat house, crying but still looking pretty, still his.
he watches you sleep sometimes. not even by accident. like you fall asleep on the couch at a party, curled up in a hoodie, and he just sits there staring. hard the whole time. thinking about sneaking his hand between your legs and seeing if youâre wet even in your dreams.
he follows you home after parties. parks down the street. jerks off in the backseat of his truck while he watches the lights go off in your bedroom. says your name under his breath while he cums all over his hand.
steals gross little things from you. a chapstick. a sock. a hair tie you left behind. keeps them in a drawer in his room like trophies. sometimes puts them under his pillow at night and humps the mattress like a desperate, sick puppy.
tries to gaslight you into thinking youâre into him. like corners you at a party and murmurs, "donât gotta be shy, baby. i see the way you look at me. fuck, youâre makin' me crazy, playinâ hard to get like that. just let me have it, iâll take good care of u, promise."
fantasizes about breaking you in. not even gently. wants you sobbing, trembling, clinging to him because youâre scared and too sweet to tell him no. thinks about stuffing your mouth full of his fingers so you can't say anything when he ruins you.
leaves bruises on you on purpose. little ones. grips your wrist too tight when heâs drunk and giggling. presses his fingers into your hips when he hugs you goodbye. stares at the marks later and jerks off to the memory, thinking, "mine, fuck, she's mine now."
goes crazy if he sees another guy even look at you. literally loses it. might grab you by the back of your neck at a party and whisper all nasty, possessive shit like, "who's fuckin' girl are you, huh? better fuckin' say it before i make a scene, baby. better say it now."
talks about you like youâre already dating when you're not. calls you "my girl" to his friends. posts blurry pictures of you on his story without tagging you. writes your name on his desk during lectures like a psycho.
secretly dreams about knocking you up. about trapping you. about you getting full with his kid and crying and begging him to take care of you. and he would. heâd be so sickly sweet while he rubbed your belly, whispering about how heâs gonna take care of you forever, how you're never getting away now.
rafe doesnât just want you. he needs you like a drug. gets shaky and sick without you. thinks about taking you every night, pressing a pillow over your face to muffle your cries while he pushes in raw, whispering, "shhh, it's okay, baby, itâs just me, just makinâ you mine."
fantasizes about catching you drunk and sleepy at a party, scooping you up like a doll, carrying you upstairs and locking the door behind him. stripping you clumsy and rough while you whimper and twitch.
he wouldnât even wait. heâd be huffing, panting, stuffing himself inside you while you begged him to stop, too high and weak to fight.
he gets hard at the idea of you crying. like not just crying â sobbing, hiccuping, clutching at his shoulders while he fucks you through it. it makes him crazy, makes him kiss your wet cheeks and coo, "feels good, huh? see, baby, your pussy knows who owns it."
he doesnât use a condom. never would. never even thinks about it. in his sick little brain, you belong to him, and that means filling you up. stuffing you full until you're dripping down your thighs, knocked up, ruined for anyone else.
he presses his hand over your stomach after he cums inside you, panting into your hair, whispering, "gonna get you pregnant. fuckin' breed you like youâre supposed to be. nobodyâs ever gonna touch you but me."
he says it over and over until you stop fighting. until you start crying softer. until you just lay there and let him do it again.
would tie you to his bed if he had to. wrist and ankle. keep you there for days. bring you water, kiss your forehead, tell you how good youâre being while he uses your pussy like itâs his personal toy.
gets mad when you cry too much. like after the third or fourth time heâs cum inside you and youâre still sobbing and begging for your mommy or daddy.
grabs your chin rough and growls, "nah, baby, you ainât got a daddy anymore. youâre mine. iâm the only one thatâs gonna take care of you now."
he records it. keeps videos of you broken and shaking and begging. watches them when heâs lonely. jerks off to them with tears in his eyes, swearing he loves you, that itâs real, that youâll love him back eventually.
in his mind, this isnât rape. itâs destiny. itâs love. you were just too stupid to see it. but thatâs okay. heâll fix you. heâll make you understand!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
you pick him the way some people pick a stray cat â not because he wants you, but because youâve decided heâs yours.
rafe cameron, transfer student. always in the back of lecture, hood up, jaw tight. the type of boy who looks like heâs holding a grudge against the whole world. heâs handsome in that tense, bad-tempered way, but clearly broke, clearly bitter, clearly trying not to exist.
most people take the hint.
you donât.
the first time you speak to him is in the hallway after class.
heâs digging in his backpack, earbuds in, when you tap his arm.
âyou dropped this,â you say, holding out a pen you found on the floor.
his eyes flick from you to the pen and back again. ââŚthanks.â
âyouâre welcome.â you keep smiling at him, watching the discomfort pool in his face.
he doesnât smile back.
you like that.
â
it starts small.
you change your seat in lecture so youâre two rows closer. you time your coffee runs to match his, standing in line right behind him and asking about his order like youâre just curious. you start wearing your hair the way you did the first day he looked at you for more than three seconds.
he never says much, but he starts noticing you. you can tell by the way his eyes flicker to you in class, quick and sharp like heâs trying to catch you doing something.
you let him catch you.
the first time you follow him home, itâs raining.
he takes the back streets, hood up, headphones in, cutting through alleys until he disappears into a crumbling apartment building on the edge of campus.
you write down the address in your notes app.
by the end of the week, youâve figured out his schedule â when he leaves for class, when heâs gone for groceries, how long he showers.
the lock on his apartment door sticks if you jiggle it.
youâre inside in under a minute.
his place smells like laundry thatâs been left too long in the washer â damp and sour. thereâs barely anything on the walls, just stacks of paper and a bed that looks like it hasnât been made in months.
you touch everything.
the lighter on his desk. the hoodie hanging on the chair. the mug by his bed that still smells faintly of coffee.
you open drawers, find receipts, loose change, a half-empty pack of gum. you pocket the gum and the lighter.
before you leave, you pull the hoodie over your head and look at yourself in the mirror.
â
the first time he notices somethingâs off is in class.
youâre wearing his hoodie â too big, sleeves covering your hands.
his eyes stick on it like theyâre glued there.
âcute, right?â you murmur when the lecture ends, brushing past him.
he doesnât answer.
â
it escalates fast after that.
you start slipping notes into his bag during class.
i like your hair when itâs messy.
you smell like soap today.
you left your window unlocked again.
you text him from an unknown number: nice boxers.
when he ignores you, you send a photo â him in his kitchen, shirtless, drinking water.
he catches you two weeks later.
youâre sitting on his bed, flipping through the notebook he keeps shoved in his backpack, when the door opens.
he freezes in the doorway. ââŚwhat the fuck are you doing?â
you glance up like youâve been caught reading a magazine. âwaiting for you.â
âhow did you even get in?â
you tilt your head. âdoor was unlocked.â
his jaw tightens. âbullshit.â
you smile. âfine. i made a copy of your key.â
he takes a step toward you. âgive it to me.â
âno.â you close the notebook gently, set it on the bed beside you. âyou know, youâve got some really interesting thoughts in here. especially the ones about⌠women.â
his face goes pale.
âimagine if the wrong person read those,â you say softly. âwouldnât look good for you.â
he swallows. âyouâre insane.â
âmaybe.â you stand, brushing past him on your way to the door. âbut iâm not wrong.â
after that, he stops telling you to leave.
you show up at his apartment whenever you want. you sit at his table while he eats. you lean over his shoulder while he works, your chin resting on his hoodie-clad arm.
he still doesnât talk much, but you notice the way his body tenses less when you touch him now.
sometimes, when you catch him staring, you smile slow â just so he knows youâve noticed.
â
one night, you let yourself in while heâs asleep.
you climb into his bed, curling against him like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
he stirs, voice thick. âwhat are you doing?â
âwarming you up.â your fingers slide over his stomach, resting there like you belong.
âget out.â
you press your mouth to his ear. âif you make me, iâll scream. and when the cops come, iâll tell them you begged me to stay. who do you think theyâll believe?â
his breathing goes sharp.
you smile into his neck. âgood boy.â
â
the thing about boys like rafe is they think theyâre hard to.
but you know better.
you just have to make sure thereâs nowhere left for him to run.
and by the time youâre done with him, there wonât be.
18+ MDNI â dark themes, m and f masturbation, very pervy!rafe, voyeurism, breaking into someoneâs house, swearing. FT. STALKER!RAFE CAMERON X AFAB!READER
he has been watching your for a while now. he knows what time you wake up every morning to start getting ready for your job at the local library, he knows that your favourite place to get breakfast is the little cafe tucked between a sandwich and pet store, where you order a butter croissant and latte to go every morning. he knows that most of your family resides in kentucky, and you like to visit them during the winter season, and he also knows that your cat died last month.
he personally sent a card to your apartment to express his condolencesâwhich wasnât hard seen as he knows that itâs on the fourth floor of the red-brick building by the car wash. he found the card in the trash a few days later when he was searching for the shirt you threw out because it was âtoo smallâ. heâd heard you complaining about it on the phone to your friend when he was stood outside your door a week or so ago.
itâs raining hard for an early evening in may, and rafe has been sat in his car for over an hour now. the windows have begun to steam up, so much so that he keeps having to wipe the condensation away to make sure that he can properly seen across the street to make sure you get home safe. you were supposed to arrive home an hour ago, as you do every day. heâs worried that something has happened to you. his leg bounces impatiently, rocking the car with it, as his eyes scan the parking lot. your audi still hasnât parked in its usual spot (about ten feet from the front doors, if he remembers correctly).
a few more minutes pass, and rafe canât handle not knowing where you are anymore. he grabs his phone and first opens instagram to see if youâve added to your story or posted or even shared your location. nothing. next, he checks twitter. still nothing. his grip around is phone tightens, his knuckles whitening his skin and his jaw clenching as his stomach tightens uncomfortably. where the fuck are you?
he debates going inside and asking your neighbours whether or not theyâve heard anything, whether youâve told them anything. the risk of you finding out a guy you donât know is asking after your location puts him off, though. against his better judgement, he unlocks his car and pushes the door open, the rain falling in heavy sheets across his face. he knows he shouldnât, but he canât not know. just as heâs about to make a beeline for the buildingâs front doors, a familiar car pulls into the parking lot and into its designated spot. he feels his shoulders relax in relief, but quickly remembers himself and slides back into his car.
he watches through hooded eyes as you get out of your car and retrieve your bags from the backseat, your hair pushed up out of your face and your cheeks flushed. he wonders whether something happened at work today. thereâs a bounce in your step thatâs not usually there, and your mouth is pulled up into a less-than-casual smile. jealously curls low and relentless in rafeâs chest; what if youâve met someone?
he tries not to dwell on that thought for very long in favour of staring unabashedly at your ass as you walk into the apartment building, fingers absentmindedly playing with his bottom lip. he watches through the window as you step into the elevator, his leg finally stilling once the doors shut behind you. at least now he knows that youâre safe. but what if you really have met somebody? the thought makes him feel sick.
the idea of it seems to churn around in his mind, worsening the longer he sits there not doing anything, and after a few more minutes, he canât stand the volume of it anymore. itâs a rash decision, a stupid one, but that certainly doesnât stop him. he gets out of his car and starts after you, his pace controlled and stiff to try and appear normal. he feels anything but right now.
he takes the stairs, not wanting to use the elevator in case he runs into someone or even bumps into you. he knows not many people use the stairs here, anyway. when heâs actually stood in front of your door, he hesitates â heâs never been in your apartment while youâre there, too. heâs always thought it to be too risky. he knows he canât stop himself, though.
he fishes the copy of your key that heâd made from the spare one you used to leave under the doormat from his pocket. that was until your neighbour warned you of the dangers of doing something so foolish. youâd told her that youâre forgetful, and often misplace your keys, to which sheâd suggested keeping one for you, just in case. rafe had heard the whole conversation whilst sat in the stairwell and had silently cursed the old pensioner for being so smart. not that it mattered anyway, heâd had his own copy for a month before that already.
slowly, he inserts the key and unlocks the door, holding his breath as he does so. as carefully as he can manage, he pushes open the door a little and peeks inside to make sure that youâre not anywhere near it. thankfully, the hallway is empty and the only sound he can hear is from the tv playing in the living room. he slips inside, still holding his breath as if that will help him stay hidden, glancing around to try and figure out where you are.
thatâs when he sees it. your bedroom door is slightly ajar, the lights are dimmed and your pants lay discarded in front of it. he swears he almost looses his mind then and there. making sure to avoid the creaky wooden floorboards that he has mapped out in his mind, he steps over to your bedroom, hiding behind the wall beside it and daring to sneak a glance through the gap.
youâre lay back on your bed like some sort of goddess, your panties thrown at the foot of the bed and your fingers buried between your spread legs. your other hand is covering your mouth to muffle any sounds that you make and he can just make out the furrow of your eyebrows. you look beautiful. he stands there, entranced for a moment, simply taking in the sight of you as you pleasure yourself. he allows himself to wonder what itâd be like if that were his hand, if you let him touch you like that.
he doesnât even realise that he is palming himself through his jeans, too focused on not missing a single thing you do to care much what he himself is doing. he burns the image into his memory, half tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture for later. he resists in favour of gingerly unzipping his fly and wrapping his hand around his cock. heâs already leaking precum, and he uses it as a lube to spread around his tip before giving himself an experimental stroke.
the pleasure runs through him like a bolt of electricity, from the tips of his toes to his head, and he can barely suppress the sound of satisfaction that threatens to pass through his lips. your legs shake and your hips grind up against your fingers, the sounds coming from where you lay sounding like music to his ears. rafe uses his free hand to hold himself up against the wall as his knees begin to buckle, his mind full of nothing but you.
he can feel himself getting close already, the way his balls tighten and his cock twitches being sure signs, but he can tell youâre not, so he removes his hand and forces himself to wait. he wants to fall over the edge with you. the hand on your mouth drops down to rub tight circles over your clit, and he mirrors your movements against his tip, the slight bit of stimulation causing his eyes to roll back. he quickly regains his focus, though, fixing back on the way your pussy squelches lewdly with every plunge of your fingers.
when your arm shoots out beside you to grip frantically at the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself, he returns his grip on his dick and pumps along with your rhythm, feeling himself begin to tilt over the edge. and when you moan without shame or reservation, your hips bucking one last time and your back arching up off your bed, he comes right along with you, his jaw slackened and his shoulders slumped forward against the wall.
you sigh and relax into the blankets beneath you, satisfied with yourself, whilst he is trying to regain his breath as quietly as possible, his body still shaking. âshit.â he curses beneath his breath, stuffing himself back into his pants and quickly slipping back over to the front door. the thrill of having been in your apartment at the same time as you, and watching you get yourself off in the private of your bedroom, is addicting, and he feels a little disappointed that he is leaving.
he remembers to lock the door behind him, returning the key back into his pocket and walking unsteadily over to the stairwell, taking them two at a time to get to the parking lot as quickly as possible. he sucks in a breath of the cold fresh air once heâs outside, getting back into his car and starting the engine. he canât help but smile smugly to himself as he drives out onto the main road, fingers tapping along to the music playing from the radio. youâre his, whether you know it yet or not.
authorâs note: i thought i would bring pogue!sweerheart!reader over to this blog since i havenât explored a dark dynamic with her and rafe yet (i think!), but i hope this is âdarkâ enough lol iâm new at this, but please keep sending in your requests! i do plan to work on some more over the weekend
FOLLOWS YOU AROUND IN HIS TRUCK
youâre so oblivious most of the time, you donât realize that the same black truck is always parked nearby wherever you go, the man inside never taking his eyes off of you. whether youâre walking around the cut with a basket full of cookies, or leaving the thrift store with some cute pieces, rafe knows all of your routes. he has your schedule figured out down to the smallest detail, it isnât until he knows youâre sleeping soundly in your camper that heâll go home and give his obsession with you a rest. rafe has fully convinced himself that what heâs doing is okay, especially since doing this is just the first step in his plan to make you his. it wonât be long before he pulls up outside your place, lights off, and decides to go in for the taking..
BREAKING AND ENTERING
when heâs not following you, heâs breaking into your camper when youâre not home so he could inspect your belongings. taking a pair of used panties from the floor and stuffing them in his pocket, smelling your pillows, running his fingers over the bristles of your hairbrush, heâs fantasizing about you the entire time heâs sitting at the edge of your bed. heâll look through your drawers and even go into the bathroom to see what body wash is your favorite. rafe will take note of absolutely everythingâ which perfume you use, what foods you keep stocked in the fridge, your favorite flowers that you keep in a little vase on the table. itâs his own twisted way of getting to know you.
RUINING POTENTIAL RELATIONSHIPS (BOTH PLATONIC AND ROMANTIC)
rafe wants to isolate you as much as possible so that he could be the only one you have to depend on. he likes you better when youâre far off in your own little secluded part of the island where no one can talk to you or put any ideas or influences in your head. he watches your interactions with others very carefully, and even goes as far as doing his own homework on each new person that has the slightest potential in being your friendâ or worse; a boyfriend. of course, he deals with each person accordingly. for the girls, heâll put in a bad word on your behalf and it never fails that they listen and cease to never talk to you again.. but for the guys? especially the nice ones who have good intentions? itâs safe to say that theyâre pretty scared straight when theyâre met with a masked stranger threatening their life for doing so much as even looking in your direction from that point forward.
Summary:Â You were so desperate to make Rafe Cameron yours that you never thought a day would come where you didn't want him to be.
Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, witchcraft, yandere behavior, morally ambiguous reader, pogue!reader
âĽÂ banner by @vase-of-liliesÂ
âž
You didnât actually think it would work and that was your first mistake.
Rafe Cameron was the first and only son of Ward Cameron. He was handsome and rich and way out of your league, and you knew that he would never look at you in a million years. That didnât stop your gaze from landing on him though anytime he was in the vicinity, and there was a point when you felt ashamed of your little crush, but now it hardly mattered to you. Itâs not like he would ever actually be interested in you, so you saw no harm in indulging in silly fantasies.
âŚbut then you started to wonder what it would actually be like.
What it would be like to be looked at by him like he looked at so many other girlsâskinnier girls, richer girls, prettier girls. What it would be like to hold his hand and even kiss him. It was harmless, yes, but it was happening often enough to distract you, and you felt yourself being pulled from your thoughts.
âWeâre about to head back to John B.âs for the night,â JJ told you after tapping you on the shoulder.
You gave him a nod, reluctantly following after him, but not without a last glance over your shoulder. You looked back just in time to watch as Rafe followed some girl up the stairs, one hand holding hers and the other holding a drink. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched them disappear, and you only forced yourself to move when JJ called your name.
You knew that your friends would think there was something wrong with you if you voiced these thoughts. The only one that might try to understand would be Kie. She was a girl like you who wasnât related to him, and so she might be able to sympathize with why you couldn't just see him as some asshole.Â
And he was certainly an asshole.
There was never any wool over your eyes about that. Youâd witnessed enough of his interactions with your friends to come to that conclusion yourself, and you were sure you too would've been on the receiving end of his ire if he ever took the time to actually notice you. As it were, you were practically invisible to the blond, and you still couldnât decide if that was a blessing or a curse, but that indecisiveness didnât last much longer as you later came to the conclusion that it was indeed a curse.
A curse you could no longer live with.
âThis is so stupid,â Sarah laughed one night, flipping through the book Kie had thrifted. âLook, look, this is one for how to get rich.â
âItâs not like you need that one,â the dark-haired girl teased, snatching it back.
âNeither do you,â you told her, reaching for it.
Kie laughed at you as you stood shoulder to shoulder, flipping through it. Her mocking gasp made you pause at the page yâall flipped to, and you didnât join in right away as she laughed again.
âLook at this one,â she grinned, facing the pages towards Sarah. âA love spell!â
Sarah found it just as funny, taking the book and smiling at the page.
âAre you and John B. having any problems?â Kie joked.
âAre you and JJ having any problems?â she threw back, tone just as light. â...because now we know how to fix any.â
You were quiet as you took the book from the blonde, looking over it as Kie stood over your shoulder.
âHuh,â she commented. âItâs surprisingly simple. A little blood, their name on some paper, and a red candle and boom!â
âSounds too easy to be true,â Sarah replied, taking the book back with a sigh. âYou think they have one in here for a fat ass?â
You all laughed at that, but your mind was still stuck on that silly love spell. While Sarah found one for longer hair that she was willing to try, you kept thinking about Kieâs comment. Youâd read it yourself, and it was surprisingly simpleâeasy to doâand it wasnât like youâd be going completely out of your way to try it. It would take what? All of five minutes? Sarah was certainly having fun with it, currently brushing cinnamon through her hair, so why couldnât you try some silly little love spell?
Worst case scenario, nothing came of it.
Itâs not like that would be some devastating loss for you. Rafe already didnât notice you, and it wouldnât hurt you if he continued to not notice you. Youâd learned to live with it for years, now, and itâs not as if you were expecting some miracle from some book Kie bought for laughs. You just wanted to try it, wanted to see what would happen.
âIf my hair is down to my butt in two weeks, I owe you twenty dollars, Kie.â
Kie responded with something you couldnât quite make out, your attention on your phone as you flipped through the book sheâd left on the couch. They were none the wiser as you took a picture, telling yourself there was a chance you wouldnât even do it, but wanting the option in case you changed your mind. Deep down though, you knew that you were lying to yourself.
Over the years, your harmless crush had morphed into something just a tad more desperate, and you couldnât ignore the small voice in the back of your mind whispering to you what if it did work. What if you could make Rafe see you? Talk to you? Pursue you like you often dreamt about? The possibility filled you with butterflies, and you ignored the silly spell in your phone for all of a week.
You told Sarah that you werenât feeling too well when she invited you to stay over. She hoped you felt better and asked you if you needed anything, but beyond that, she didnât find your sudden ailment suspicious. Only you knew that you would never pass up an opportunity to see Rafe, even in passing, health be damned.
You felt somewhat foolish as you sat on your bedroom floor, a red candle lit next to a bowl of water. Truthfully, you didnât know why. Itâs not like anyone was around to witness this, but you would be lying if you said your desperation didnât make you feel just a tad pathetic. Either way, itâs not like it stopped you from writing his first and last name on that paper, hand shaking as you did.
You thought that the blood would be the hardest hurdle to jump through, but it turns out that little thing in your brain that made it hard to hurt yourself decided to take a break for the night. Or maybe your desperation was just stronger. It took nothing at all to press a safety pin into your finger, and moments later Rafeâs name was covered in both your blood and the red candle wax.
You only started to feel unsure when you picked up the slip of paper.
What if it did actually work? While you werenât sure what you believed in exactly, you did believe in something. You believed that some higher power did indeed exist and played a part in everything that happened in this worldâŚand what if that higher power made this work? What if you woke up tomorrow and Rafe was knocking on your door to take you out on a date? What would you do? Your desires were so beyond out of reach that it had never occurred to you what you would actually do should you get what you wanted.
Your train of thought made you chuckle, rolling your eyes in the quiet room. You believed in something, sure, but magic didnât exist. You believed in energy and faith backed actions, but you didnât think you believed in magic. Either way, telling yourself it was pure curiosity, you held the piece of paper over the flame.
âWeâre looking for John B.,â Sarah told you with a sigh. âPope drank too much, so we gotta call it a night.â
âI think he was in the kitchen,â you let her know.Â
âCan you check the backyard just in case he had to pee or something? Iâll text you if I find him so we can go.â
You both went in opposite directions, and you squeezed your way through bodies as you made your way outside. Mostly everybody seemed to be inside though with the exception of a few people, so it wasnât hard to see pretty quickly that he wasnât in the backyard anywhere. Not wanting to push your way past bodies again, you made the decision to just make your way to the van.
Your trek was interrupted by a very familiar blond.
âWoah,â he drunkenly said, having almost run into you. âSomeoneâs on a mission.â
You were stumped.
Not once had Rafe Cameron ever spoken to youânot even a wordâand you couldnât stop yourself from staring at him in a mixture of shock and awe. You felt your lips part, and you knew that you were staring at him like some kind of idiot, but you were finding it really hard to fathom that Rafe Cameron was talking to you.
The guy in question frowned at you, eyes narrowing a bit as he snapped his fingers in your face.
âYou good?â
Acknowledging that you needed to speak and that you probably looked all kinds of unwell, you blinked.
âI..Iâm sorry, I⌠What?â
He thought you were funny, apparently, chuckling at you with this haughty drunken smile on his lips. He tilted his head at you, dirty blond strands falling onto his forehead.
âI said are you good,â he slowly repeated.
âYeah,â you hurried to reply, not wanting to look any more foolish in front of him. âSorry. My friendâŚheâs kind of not feeling good, and Iâm just trying to round everybody up.â
You felt like you were standing on air, having a somewhat out of body experience. Were you actually holding a conversation with Rafe Cameron? Someone who had never acknowledged you a day in your life? It felt like a dream, and you could only stare at him as he softly laughed to himself. You only noticed the blunt in his hand when he brought it up to his lips.
âSarah drink too much?â
You frowned at him, and you felt confused. You and Sarah were friends, but you didnât know that he knew that. You didnât even know that he knew you knew her. Your silence must have stretched on for too long because he was speaking again.
âYou are one of her little friends, right?â
For the second time that night, you were stumped.
âYeahâŚI am,â you slowly told him, hurrying to defend Sarah after you processed what he said. â...and no. Weâre looking for someone else.â
Feeling completely out of your element, you started to walk past him, wondering if you were hallucinating. Rafe Cameron never talked to you, never even so much as looked at you, and in one night youâd had a whole conversation with him.
âYou donât seem like the partying type.â
Make that two.
âWhat?â you wondered, facing him again.
You watched smoke swirl between his lips for a while before he exhaled.
âYou donât seem like the partying type,â he repeated. âYou seem like youâd rather have your head in a book somewhere.â
You didnât know how to respond to that so you simply said:
âI canât like both?â
Rafeâs only response was a slow smile, and something about it made your stomach twistâin both a good and bad way. Before he could say anything else thoguhâand before you could further embarrass yourselfâyou heard your name being called. It sounded like Sarah, and giving Rafe one last look, you ran off to find her.
It turns out sheâd texted you that she found John B., and youâd been so distracted by Rafe that you hadnât felt the vibration. You were distracted by him for the rest of the night in fact, even as you rubbed Popeâs back as he threw up in the toilet. Rafe Cameron had talked to you, and it still didnât feel real. If you didnât know any better, youâd say that you dreamt the whole thing up, but the goosebumps still on your skin said otherwise.
A brief thought of a red candle and some blood passed through your mind, and you shook your head. You actually scoffed out loud to yourself, telling yourself that Rafe was drunk and high out of his mind, and he just happened to run into you outside. Even if magic was real, it wouldnât be in the form of some spell done by some silly nineteen year old girl. Thatâs what you told yourself anyway, but you were having second thoughts about that when Rafe Cameron stood at your door only a few days later.
âI just wanted to do the old fashioned and respectful thingâŚâ
You stood in the living room with your lips parted, looking over your fatherâs shoulder as he faced the blondâthe blond who had shown up at your doorstep with flowers and candy and a charming smile on his face asking your father for permission to take you out on a date. It was so outdated and so unlike him, and you could only avoid your motherâs gaze as she looked at you in confusion.
âWell, thatâsâŚthatâs very admirable of you, Rafe.â
When your father turned to you, you didnât need to be a genius to see that Rafeâs chivalry had gotten to him. Normally so over protective, your father instead stepped out of the way for you, and you remembered that it was you Rafe was asking out. It was your response he needed, and you cleared your throat.
âWeâll be on the porch,â you softly said to the older man as you moved past him, quietly shutting the door behind you.
You took the flowers and the box of chocolates, but frowned when you did. The box felt weirdly light, but before you could comment on that, Rafe was speaking.
âItâs old school, I know, butâŚâ he shrugged at you. âMy ego canât take not being liked by your parents.â
âRafe, what are you doing?â
You jumped right to it, voicing your confusion and uncertainty and questioning his actions.
âAsking you out,â he said like it was obvious.
It was.
âWhy?â you wondered, a deep frown between your brows.
â...because I want to take you out.â
Again, he said it like it was obvious.
âWhy? Weâve had two conversations, including this one,â you reminded him.
â...and I canât want to change that?â he wondered, voice dropping, and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat.
You looked down at the flowers in your hand, completely in shock.
This wasnât like Rafe, at all, and youâd watched him enough to know. The entire thing was strange and unsettling, and you almost wanted to reject him but⌠Wasnât this what you wanted? Hadnât you watched Rafe for years just wishing that he would see you? Talk to you? Hadnât you fantasized to have him look at you as he was currently looking at you?
Hadnât you bled for that wish?
The thought that that silly little spell actually worked made your head spin, and even still, you didnât want to believe it. There just had to be some other explanation, but nothing else made any sense. Didnât this bring his consent in the matter into question? Wasnât this beyond ethically bankrupt? Did you care?
It was wrong, so wrong, because deep down you knew where all of this was coming from. Youâd wanted this for years, and here it was literally at your doorstep. Rafe Cameron was asking you out and wanting to pursue you and you were questioning it because of the ethics of witchcraft? Who were you to say no? It was so beyond selfish, but if Rafe could be selfish his whole life, why couldnât you for five minutes?
You bit your lip and tightened your grip on the flowers.
âOkay,â you whispered, lifting your gaze. âIâll go out with you.â
The look on Rafeâs face was one youâd wanted to see for ages, and any guilt that you felt was forgotten as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek.
Rafeâs lips were harsh against yours as he kissed you on the bed of his truck. The cool night air was barely felt as he ran his hands over you, unable to keep them in one place and you were glad for it. The blond moaned into your mouth as he pressed himself against you, fitting comfortably between your legs. You felt like you were living in your wildest of dreams, and you couldnât believe it.
Sarah had said something similar only days earlier.
âI donât believe this,â sheâd scoffed. âYou and Rafe are going on a date?â
âHe asked and I said yes. It happened so fast that I didnât even consider how it might make you feel until after,â youâd honestly told her.
If all of this was really the result of some stupid book, you didnât want to sell any more of your soul by being a bad friend too. Youâd watched as the blonde ran her hands through her hair, seemingly in shock. She seemed like she had a lot she wanted to say, but she probably kept it to herself for your benefit.
âIf this is what you want, what can I even say, you know? I didnât even know you liked him like that,â she murmured to herself. âAlthough I suppose I can see why you never said anything.â
âI just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.â
âI donât know if okay is the right word, butâŚâ she shrugged. âI canât tell you or him what to do.â
Your talk with the other blonde definitely made you feel better about answering the door when Rafe arrived at your house. The date went well enough, Rafe taking you to some restaurant youâd never be able to afford, and giving you his undivided attention the entire time. His heavy gaze kept your face warm the entire night, and you reminded yourself that this is what you wanted and you got it.
âI donât want to take you home just yet,â heâd murmured outside of the restaurant, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.
You hadnât wanted to go home just yet either, not wanting this night to end.
âOkay.â
âŚand that was how you found yourselves parked in some abandoned field with Rafe on top of you in the back of his truck. A thick blanket was underneath you, and it was hard to remember how long youâd been kissing him. His tongue tasted the inside of your mouth and his hand was on your jaw. Every so often youâd lift your hips and heâd groan against your lips. Two weeks ago you had never said one word to him, and now here you were.
Rafeâs lips traveled to your neck, giving you a moment of reprieve, and you gasped for air. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond strands, head thrown back. Every open mouthed kiss he left on your throat made your heart flutter, and you once again couldnât believe that this was your life.
When his hand reached for the top of your dress, however, you reminded yourself that not only was this the first date, but that your mother was no doubt waiting up to make sure you made it home safe. As much as you wanted all of Rafe, the speed at which this had all progressed was definitely making your head spin.
âItâs getting lateâŚâ
Your words didnât affect Rafe none, and you gasped when he nipped at the top of your chest.
âRafe,â you said, reaching for him.
Only then did he pause, looking up at you from his position, and it took everything in you to keep your head on straight. The blond looked like he wanted to eat you alive, and that made your stomach twist in ways you werenât used to.
âI think I should head home, now.â
He stared at you for too long to be comfortable, but he eventually moved.
âYou want to go home?â he asked you, running his hand through his hair.
At your nod, it was like something in him shifted, and he became a lot more relaxed. His shoulders dropped, and he looked between your eyes, and Rafe appeared a lot more docile in the span of a second. It was crazy to witness the sudden shift, and in that moment you accepted that you had done this. There was nothing natural at all about any of this, and you swallowed, hating that you didnât care.
Rafe was the perfect gentleman as he righted your dress and helped you down. The ride home was silent yet comfortable, his hand on your thigh the entire way, and every so often you felt his eyes on you. On the occasion you met his gaze, he always returned it with a smile. Rafe seemed happy to be here, so how awful could this really be?
You glanced down at the diamond bracelet on your wrist, recalling the shock youâd felt to find it inside the box of chocolates instead of candy. Rafe had said something about wanting to impress you when you brought it to the date, unable to find it in yourself to stop him when he took the box back before putting the jewelry on you himself.
Youâd looked at him in a mixture of awe and worry. You shouldâve accepted then that nothing about this was natural, but you were still in denial. After all, if what you did was actually real and all of this was the result of that, what did that make you? How far were you willing to take this?
Those questions were still on your mind when he walked you to your door, and again, Rafe was the perfect gentleman as he placed a kiss at the corner of your mouth. You stared after him as he walked back to his truck, tugging his jacket closer. You liked to think that you werenât some horrible person, and you told yourself that youâd enjoy this for a little while longer before finding a way to undo what youâd done.
Rafe Cameron was your boyfriend, and you liked it.
You didnât just like that he was your boyfriend, but you liked what that meant for you. You liked the privilege that came with the relationship. You liked walking into doors you wouldâve never been able to walk through otherwise. You liked when he spent money on you and bought you the kinds of things you could only dream about owning.
âŚand the girls.
You liked the way they looked at you.
It didnât take long for Rafeâs exclusiveness to become noticeable, for it to become apparent that the once ladiesâ man and heavy partier had done a 180. Girls he used to spend every weekend with no longer got so much as a glance from him. Phone calls and texts went ignored before those numbers were eventually blocked altogether, and when you were out and about, it was clear that you were to blame.
Rafe was absolutely obsessed with you, and you relished in the way some of his former lovers looked at you.
You, who had never so much as had a single boyfriend, was now on the receiving end of the most envious looks youâd ever seen in your life. You knew that if any of those girls had access to the kind of magic you had, you wouldâve been dead a long time ago. You were always overlooked by boys and barely even seen as a woman in their eyes, and now you were with Rafe Cameron and he looked at you like you hung the moon.
âI wonât lieâŚI definitely expected this to crash and burn,â Sarah admitted. âThrough no fault of yours, of course.â
Kie snorted at that, and you took a sip of your drink.
âIâm serious,â she said, âHeâs like a completely different person. Part of me wants to ask what you did, but another part of me is scared of the answer.â
Her and Kie thought that was funny, and you could only hold back your smile.
âHe literally worships the ground you walk on,â Kie commented, slightly disgusted. â...and thatâs the only reason the guys are even respectful about any of this.â
It was true.
Rafe gave into your every whim and he answered your every beck and call. Sometimes he felt more like a servant than a boyfriend, asking you what you needed and running you hot baths and kneading his fingers into your shoulders after you had a long day. With that kind of behavior, how could you deny him for much longer?
You hadnât planned on sleeping with him, telling yourself it was a line you just couldnât cross considering the circumstances, but it happened so seamlessly. One moment he was kissing your face and telling you how beautiful you were, and the next his fingers were inside of you and massaging your walls so good that it had you clinging to him.
Rafe was a man starved.
âIâve neverâŚâ you had trailed off, somewhat embarrassed to admit to him your lack of experience.
Rafe had only grinned at you before kissing you.
âI feel honored,â heâd whispered against your lips. âTo be your first and your last.â
His words had given you pause, but then he was pushing his cock into you, and your nails were digging into his skin, and they were forgotten.
Youâd anticipated the pain, and that surely didnât disappoint, but you hadnât anticipated just how good it could feel. That honestly could've just been Rafe though. Itâs not like he didnât have a reputation, and you quickly realized that it was not without reason. His lips stayed on you the entire time you had sex, and it was just enough to not be overstimulating.
Every curve of his hips into yours had you gasping, and you were so happy that your parents wouldnât be home for hours. Having him inside of you felt nothing like your fingers or his. It was a different experience entirely, and Rafe was ravenous as he fucked you and tasted you. One of his hands was behind your neck as he repeatedly pressed his lips to yours while the other was tight on your waist.
âDo you like that?â he whispered, and you could barely get a word out.
You could only nod, and that seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and you swore that you heard a low growl escape his throat as he stretched you around his cock. He looked down between you where you connected, his hair hanging onto his forehead, and you couldnât hold in your moans. Youâd been dating for months, but it was finally setting in.
Rafe Cameron was yours.
Youâd daydreamt about it for yearsâharmless and silly fantasiesâbut now it was your reality. Rafe held your hand and kissed you and paraded you around town for all to see, making you the envy of just about every girl whoâd ever so much as looked at him. He doted on you and called you beautiful and said all of the things and looked at you in a way you wanted him to for years.
âŚand now he was in your bed and making love to you and giving you your first experience.
You were on cloud 9, and you allowed yourself to bask in it. You threw your head back as he bit at your neck, and your chest arched up into his as he thrust into you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him closer, and Rafe moaned at the action. It seemed like he wanted to be as close to you as possible too, and he slid his knees underneath your thighs.
âRafe,â you sighed, breath hitching as he filled you to the hilt.
Every time he pulled his hips back, only the tip of him remained, and when he surged forward he filled you up again. It was driving you crazy in the best way, and your nails scraped down his back and arms. The blond hissed at the action, and his teeth grew rougher on your skin. You came around him once, but that wasnât enough for him, and you swore that when you came around him for the third and final time, he told you he loved you.
Rafe was obsessed with you.
It was like once he had you, it was never enough. The first night you slept together blended into one long night. You came around him too many times to count, small naps in between, and he only left a few minutes before your parents came home, but you were sneaking him back in a few hours later as soon as they were asleep. He wouldnât stop kissing you the moment he climbed through your window.
âAre you going to chew it for her too?â Sarah wondered one day when Rafe cut up your omelet for you.
Her tone was teasing, and you threw her an equally teasing glare, but Rafe hadnât responded outside of a scathing look towards his sister. His behavior was glaringly obvious for all to see, and you couldnât say you hated it. Your life had become a fairytale overnight, and youâd happily ate your food while he sat next to you, his seat so close to yours that his arm rested over your shoulder as he watched you eat.
âHoney, Iâm just worried,â your mother had said another day. âIt just seems like you spend all of your time with him these days and you hardly see your friends.â
Her concern was understandable, but you assured her that you were fine.
âI do see them,â youâd told her. âRafe has just never gotten along with them too well, and itâs not like thatâs changed now that weâre together.â
It wasnât a complete lie.
Your friends were cordial with Rafe, now, and you appreciated that, but Rafe loved having you to himself. Any time you convinced him to be around your friends, it never lasted long before he was convincing you to sneak off with him somewhere, and the blond could be very persuasive.Â
âFive more minutes,â he said to you in the middle of the night.
His head was between your legs and your thighs were aching from being bent so long and a thin layer of sweat covered your skin. Rafeâs fingers were pressed into you as he held you in place, and you shuddered when his breath blew along your folds. Youâd never been this wet in your life, and you were scared to look at the time and see just how long heâd had his mouth and tongue against your cunt.
You were exhausted and out of breath and Rafe refused to let you go.
You told yourself that it was fine, that it was just what came with that honeymoon phase of every new relationship. Granted, itâs not like you would know, but you figured that things would calm down between you the longer you were together. A time would come where you were more normal about each other and he didnât want to spend every waking moment on you or in you.
You thought that, at least, but you were woken up in the middle of the night a month later. The knocking on the door was incessant, and youâd thought that something was wrong, that some kind of emergency was happening. Your parents beat you to the door, and no one was more shocked or horrified than you to see that it was Rafe on the other side.
Your father glanced at you with the kind of anger youâd never been on the receiving end of, and your mother looked between you with a disturbed frown.
âRafe?â you wondered in shock. âWhatâŚ?â
âI had to see you,â was his only excuse, and you shrank under your fatherâs withering gaze.
âDad, I⌠I donât know whatâsâŚâ
Your words died in the air, unable to understand what was happening. However, despite how much heâd grown to like Rafe, you could see your fatherâs patience thinning. You hurried to deescalate something before it began, profusely apologizing to your parents as you told them youâd handle this.
âSomething could be wrong,â you hurried to say to him. âFive minutes and then Iâm inside.â
Your father didnât say a word, but the way his mustache twitched told you enough. Your mother was the only one to linger a bit before eventually leaving too.
âFive minutes,â were her soft parting words.
Rafeâs hand was tight on yours as you forced him off of the porch, wide eyes on him.
âI wanted to see you,â he said, and you blinked.
âIs something wrong? Is it Sarah?â you worriedly asked him.
His scoff made your frown deepen.
âNo, SarahâsâŚfine,â he waved that off. âI was thinking about you andâŚI just had to see you.â
You stared at him for a long time, mouth falling open when you processed his words.
âYou were thinking about me and you just had to see me? Rafe, itâs three in the morning. You woke up my parentsâthey have jobs they have to go to tomorrow,â you told him, voice rising in pitch.
âI wanted to see you,â he repeated.Â
âI get that, butâŚthis isnât okay. You have to go home, Iâll see you tomorrow.â
Technically youâd see him later on today, but that didnât need to be pointed out.
â...but I donât want to go home,â Rafe said with a frown, and you blinked at him.
âRafeâŚâ
âIâm not going home.â
His tone was strong with conviction, and you swallowed. You looked over your shoulder before glancing behind him. You didnât see his truck, so you guessed that heâd parked it somewhere before sneaking over here. His hand was still tight on yours, and when you looked at him again, he hadnât looked away from you once.
âIâll meet you at my windowâŚokayâŚ?â
That was the right thing to say, and Rafe gave you a crooked smile before kissing you. You pulled away before it could become heated, and you hurried inside, sure that your five minutes was up. Your mother was in the hall as you locked the door, and you apologized to her several times before wishing her a good night.
Like you agreed on, Rafe was at your window when you shut your room door, and he didnât hesitate to climb inside the moment you opened it.
âRafe, my parents are home, okay? Do you understand what that means?â
The way you were talking to him felt strange.
âOf course,â he said with a nod and a small smirk. âI just wanted to see you.â
He kissed you again, arms wrapped around you, and you kissed him back after a while. His hold on you was tight, and when he broke the kiss, he briefly kissed your cheek.
âJust want to sleep next to you, tonightâŚâ
His words made you less tense, and you felt your face soften as you separated. You helped him get undressed, only his boxers remaining, and you watched him slide into your bed after you. He didnât give you any time before reaching for you and pulling you closer, and Rafe only seemed to relax when your head was comfortably on his chest.
You traced patterns into his skin, and you bit your lip as you told yourself this was nothing.
âRafe,â you warned, but he didnât hear you.
Or chose not to, it was hard to tell these days.
One of his hands was curved around your throat while the other held your wrists against the small of your back. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the kitchen, and you squeezed your eyes shut from both the pleasure he was giving you and the nervousness that filled you. Rafe was getting harder and harder to say no to, and he didnât seem keen on listening to your concerns when he started kissing you in his kitchen.
âNo oneâs home,â heâd said.
â...but they could walk through that door,â was your response.
â...but I need to be inside of you,â he replied.
The blond loudly groaned behind you as he filled you up, slowly pushing his cock into you as he held you down against the counter top. Every dip of his cock past your folds had you gasping, but despite how good it felt, you couldnât stop worrying about someone walking through that door. Everyone was out, now, but it wouldnât be the first time Rafe was inside of you in a not so private place when someone came home.
Youâd never been caught yet, but you never liked to chance it.
He pulled you back until his chest was against you, and the strain in your arms made you wince. Rafe hummed, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours. You were dripping around him and the sound it made every time he pushed his cock into you was loud in the otherwise quiet room. You whimpered when he tightened his hold on your throat, and you both knew that he was the only thing keeping you upright.
This was the fifth time youâd had sex today.
You were worn outâand even a little soreâand it seemed that it was never enough for Rafe. He liked to get his hands on you at every opportunity, and what you thought was a honeymoon phase turned out to be something beyond that. Every day several times a day was the new normal for you, and when Rafe couldnât be in you, he had to be with you and touching you in some way.
âŚand he was the only one allowed to.
You still thought about the boy whose arm he broke only last month for pulling out your chair. It was a terrifying and embarrassing debacle, one that was solved with a little bit of money from Rafe. Youâd stared at him in horror, and heâd acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Or when heâd rammed his truck into Topperâs jeep, citing it as a drunken accident, but you knew better. Youâd seen the look on his face when Topper gave you a hug goodbye.
Rafe was equally possessive as he was obsessive, and the more it escalated, the closer you were pushed to facing the truth.
Nothing about his behavior was normal or explainable, but you didnât want to accept that this was your fault. When he snuck into your room in the early hours of the morning or when he picked out your clothes and put them on you or when he cut the brakes on some guyâs car whoâd looked at you for too long for his liking.
You didnât want to accept responsibility for any of this.
âŚbut when you woke up in the middle of the night to find him staring at you in the darkness for the umpteenth timeâŚyou knew. You knew that this was all your fault, and you stared back at him with a sinking feeling in your heart. Youâd played God, and youâd had your fun, but now you had to find a way to undo this.
âKieâŚwhat happened to that book you bought a while back?â you asked her the next day when you finally had some time to yourself.
The other girl frowned at you, and you elaborated.
âYou know, the one with the love spells and stuff.â
Her face evened out as she remembered.
âOh, that thing? I tossed it,â she waved off.
You stared at her, stomach dropping.
âYou what?â
Your tone must have given her pause because she looked at you.
âIt was bullshit,â she shrugged. âSomething somebody made when they were bored, because itâs not like it worked. Sarahâs hair is shorter now than it was then. I keep telling her she needs to just cut those split endsâŚâ
The rest of Kieâs words were lost to you as you looked away, mind going a mile a minute as you thought about what you were going to do. You had long accepted that you did this to Rafe, and youâd told yourself you were only going to take it so far, but youâd loved being Rafeâs girlfriend and loved having him all to yourself as youâd always wanted. Now, you had him all to yourself, and you were terrified out of your mind.
âI was only at Kieâs for an hour,â you told the man in question later in the day.
His arms were wrapped around you from behind and his face was pressed into the crook of your neck.
âI knowâŚbut I missed you. I always miss you,â he murmured, kissing your skin.
âDo you ever think about why you miss me so much?â
âBecause I love you,â he said to you as if you were silly for asking.
With difficulty, you pulled away from him, facing him. You looked into Rafeâs eyes with worry, and you noted that they were completely dilated. You pulled your lip between your teeth, at war with yourself.
â...but why do you love me? Do you ever think about that, Rafeâwhy you love me so much? Don't you think it came out of nowhere?â
The blond seemed to think on it for a minute.
âNo,â he answered, and you frowned. âI woke up one dayâŚand you were just there.â
You swallowed as he touched your cheek.
â...and I couldnât stop thinking about you, and I had to have you and I did.â
You blinked at him.
âI always get what I want.â
He didnât take his eyes off of you as he said that, and he grabbed your arm before you could take a step back. He threaded his fingers through yours, and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. Rafeâs eyes held yours the entire time, the blue of them hardly visible, and the gravity of what you did finally settled on your shoulders.
â...and Iâll never not want you.â
You stared after your friends through the crowd, Rafeâs arm feeling like a weighted belt around you. There was hardly a difference between his arms and chains these days, and you forced yourself to look away from their fun. You hadnât hung out with them in what felt like ages, and while Kie and Sarah assured you there was no hard feelingsâseeing firsthand how needy Rafe could beâyou still felt like shit in more ways than one.
âYou okay? Are you cold?â
Rafe didnât give you a chance to say no, already slipping out of his jacket. You accepted it with a small smile, and he returned it before giving you a heated kiss. His friends were used to his public displays of affection by now, but considering your relationship at the moment, you were beyond uncomfortable.
You needed to break up with RafeâŚand you were terrified to do so.
Kie had thrown out that book, and everything you looked into that didnât seem like some cheesy gimmick all basically said the same thingâyou had to let it run its course. What did that even mean? Did it mean heâd eventually get tired of you? How long would that be? Did it mean you had to tell him the truth? Get him to break up with you? Break up with him?
In the beginning of all of this, you felt soâŚpowerful. Youâd snagged the Rafe Cameron, and youâd had him eating out of the palm of your hand and hanging onto your every word. Youâd had other girls green with envy, and you'd been basking in all that came with being his girlfriend. Now, though?
Now, you were frazzled and drained. Rafe was fucking you and kissing you more often than he was not. You spent more nights at his house than your own despite what you wanted because he was going to get what he wanted regardless if your parents were home or not, and the Camerons were much more relaxed about certain things than your parents. He stuck to you like a shadow, even leaning against the door and talking to you when you had to go to the bathroom.
You never thought youâd long for the day when you could cut up your own food and dress yourself and speak for yourself. He was doting and sweet yes, but Rafe was also insatiable and violent and suffocating. It was driving you to your breaking point, and you were silent the entire ride home.
When you asked him to take you to your house, he obliged, but you shouldâve known that he expected to come inside with you.
âRafe, IâŚI think I want to be alone tonight.â
It was like he didnât process your words, at all, staring at you with a blank look, and you sighed.
âMy parents are going to be home in like an hourâŚâ
AgainâŚnothing.
You glanced away, feeling completely unnerved, before taking his hand. The corner of his lips curved upwards into a small smirk, and he walked you inside. Your thoughts seemed so loud in the quiet house as you considered what you had to do. There was no hesitation in Rafe as he walked towards your room, and you eventually followed him.
You pulled your lip between your teeth as you took off his jacket.
âRafeâŚI donât think that we should see each other anymore.â
It was the nicest way you could say it, and Rafe still looked at you like youâd told him the craziest thing. The snort that left him made your jaw clench, and you took a deep breath.
âIâm serious,â you said, voice shaking. âYouâre not in love with me.â
âOf course, I am,â he fired back.
âNo, youâre not. RafeâŚâ
You felt like you were going to be sick, and you were acutely aware of his heavy stare.
âI did something to make you love me.â
âI know you did,â he said with a smile, reaching for you.
âNo!â you moved away from him. âI did something wrong, okay? I made you love me. I had a candle and I had some blood, and I made you feel how you feel about meâŚâ
Rafe was frowning at you, now, and you hoped that he was getting it.
âBefore this, you never even looked at me, Rafe. Remember? I was invisible to youâI was nothing! Nothing, and then you suddenly canât stop thinking about me? Iâm the only girl you want to be with? Doesnât that seem odd to you?â
The room was silent as you just stared at him, gaze pleading as you hoped and prayed you got through to him. Rafe slowly blinked at you, and in a matter of seconds, you watched his expression shift. It was hard to place, but you knew that it made you uncomfortable, and a shiver crawled up your spine.
âWhatâs odd is you coming up with this nonsenseâthis bullshitâto try and leave me.â
You let out a sigh of defeat, pressing your hand to your forehead.
âRafe, please hear what Iâm sayingâ.â
âI hear you.â
âNo, Rafe, no. This isnât natural. IâŚI messed up,â you tearfully said. âI was wrong, and I shouldnât have done it, but part of me didnât think it would work and another part of me hoped it would, but now⌠I donât know how to undo it.â
He was moving towards you, and you stumbled back.
âYouâre not leaving me,â he quietly told you.
âRafe, please hear what Iâm saying. Please, fight it because I donâtâŚI donât know how to make it stop,â you cried. â...but youâre so you, and you have to still be in there. You have to be!â
You felt like you were talking to a wall, and you pushed at his hands as he reached for you.
âRafe, please,â you begged.
When his hand pulled at your shirt, tearing it, it was sinking in.Â
There was no leaving him, no getting away, and you brought your knee up. You didnât stay to see if he was okay, stumbling into the hall and running for the door. Your name was loud in the air as he shouted it, and it made you flinch. You were running past his truck when you heard the door bounce off of the wall, and tears blurred your vision as you ran across the yard.
Youâd never run so fast in your life, but Rafeâs legs were longerâor he was simply more determined, fueled by something other to catch youâand he caught up with you sooner than you would have liked. You both fell to the ground, a grunt leaving you as he tightly held onto you. Your hands pulled at the grass to get away, ripping out a few blades as Rafe pulled you back.
You kicked at him, crying and screaming, and Rafe yanked you back so hard that it hurt your hands. One of his hands was tight in your hair, pulling your head back before slamming it back down. The action made you see stars, damn near knocking you out, and you groaned in pain. The sound of that seemed to trigger something in Rafe, and he let you go.
âIâm sorry, baby,â you heard him whisper, turning you over.
Your vision was spinning, and you could just barely make him out as he leaned over you.
âIâm sorry,â he quietly said to you, leaning in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. â...but you canât leave me.â
His hands were all over you, now, and you felt him press kisses to your chest, your shirt tearing some more to make room for them.
âI love you,â he breathed, kissing you. â...and you love me.â
You weakly pushed at his chest.
âWhy would I let you leave me? Why would you want to?â
âRafeâŚIâm sorry,â you mumbled, trying to sit up.
The blond shoved you back down, and your struggle continued.
âI forgive you,â he hummed, nipping at your skin and settling in between your legs.
âNo, noâŚ.â
He thought you were apologizing for something else, and you couldnât stop crying. You shoved at his face and tried to back away, but he gripped your wrists, moving his mouth against yours. The breeze from the water cooled your skin, and the clouds hid what little light there wouldâve been from the moon. The sound of tearing fabric made your heart race, and you cried harder, unable to get him off of you.
Rafe moaned like a man starved when he finally managed to sheath himself inside of you, holding himself there with parted lips before pulling his hips back. One of his hands held your wrist to your stomach, and the other slid behind your head as he pulled you in for another kiss. The kiss was salty from your tears, but Rafe didnât mind it.
He fucked you against the grass, unconcerned about where you were. If you didnât know any better, he was more hungry for you now than he was the first night you slept together. His grunts and moans were loud in your ear, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
âWhat were you thinking, baby? Hmm?â
He slammed his hips against yours, letting your wrists go to reach underneath your thigh.
âRafe,â you gasped, trying one last time to undo what you did. âThis isnât you.â
He only pushed your leg back, hungrily kissing at your jaw and neck and chest.
âPlease, listen to me,â you sobbed.
Your words went ignored, and more tears fell as he thrust into you, losing himself in the feeling. His hand behind your head slid to your neck, and it tightened around your throat as he lifted his head to look at you. His blue eyes did not look away from yours once.
âIf you try to leave me again,â Rafe quietly started, blond strands kissing your forehead. âI might have to lock you away until you come to your senses.â
He said it with a laugh, but you knew he was entirely serious, and you blinked back tears as he kissed you again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Joel regularly gives you guitar lessons, but today the sight of his veiny hands is particularly distracting, which is why one thing leads to the next...
Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, pulling out, Joel cumming on your face, fingering, dirty talk, praise, mutual pining, fluff, hand kink, unspecified age gap, size difference, size kink, soft!Joel, emtionally vulnerable Joel, he hasn't had sex in a while and feels insecure, Jackson!Joel, reassurance, comfort, he's a gentleman, little bit of jealousy, friends to lovers?, I don't deserve you energy
Wordcount: 11,736
Masterlist
Wanna be on my taglist?
You quickly shoved a scarf in your bag just in case it would be cold later.
Then your eyes caught on your naked fingers, considering grabbing some gloves as well, but you chose against it. You were already late, and you would have to run up the stairs to your bedroom to get them from your wardrobe. So no gloves it was. Besides, it wouldn't take you more than five minutes to walk the short way over to Joel's house.
A minute later, you locked your door from outside and set yourself in motion. There was a fresh breeze wafting around, messing up your strands, which was why you moved quickly in order not to be exposed to the cold for too long and perhaps get sick. Winter was lurking around the corner, and in the recent days you had felt it in every bone.
Back then before the outbreak, you had enjoyed that time of the year and all the perks it brought, like sitting on the couch all day with a hot cup of tea warming your palms, but nowadays winter meant worrying about what food to put on the table the following day.
Well, right now that wasn't any of your concern. Right now, you just didn't want to be late to your guitar lessons, which was why you hurried up even more and were out of breath when you finally reached the thick wooden door of Joel's home. You had always found that the rough, uneven surface fit his person well, even though you couldn't explain why.
Joel opened the door after a few seconds, which made you nervously chew on your bottom lip. Did that mean he had been waiting for you by the door? Were you that late?
"Hey," you smiled the second his face was in your view. He looked exactly like always, which had something comforting and beautifully consistent about it.
His hair was slicked back, the little strands curling in the back, his brown eyes were warm, and his body was clad in jeans, a checked button-up and slippers. Joel didn't like to wear outside shoes around the house and usually also told his guests to take off their boots when they entered his living room.
"Mornin'," Joel scoffed, drawing his eyebrows together at your rapid panting. "Are you okay? Come in."
Stepping aside, you rushed inside, glad to finally be within the warming walls of his house rather than the icy wind outside.
"I'm sorry for being late, Joel," you said without answering his question.
"Is that why you're so out of breath?"
"Yes⌠I swear to god, I was on time and just about to leave the house, but then I remembered that I haven't watered the plants in my bedroom for days, and I knew that if I was gonna leave now, I wouldn't be able to focus on playing the guitar."
Joel chuckled deeply, gesturing for you to step into the living room after you had toed off your shoes.
"Well, I'm glad that you did it then. Besides, I was a bit late today too."
"Oh really?" you grinned mischievously, lowering yourself onto one of the chairs around the living room table and glancing at him with suspicious eyes. Joel was never late for anything, and sometimes it was downright obnoxious. He was probably one of the most responsible and reliable human beings you had ever met, which was why you couldn't believe that he had broken through his neat schedule today.
"Yep. My water tap didn't work."
You burst into laughter immediately, your body hunching over while some low wheezing spilled from his lips.
"Did I say somethin' funny, darlin'?"
"No, just â it's just kind of funny to me that the one time you're late for something it's because of something so dramatic. I thought it would be â I don't know, not hearing the alarm or spending too much time doing your crossword puzzles."
A broad grin tugged at his lips as Joel grabbed the guitar that was leaning against a wall nearby.
"Well, I did do my crosswords of course. But yeah⌠that wasn't why I was late."
"What I'm trying to say is that you're excused. I think having water coming out of the tap is a priority compared to guitar lessons. I would understand if you had cancelled the lesson today."
Joel determinedly shook his head and handed you the guitar. You carefully took it, cautious not to bump the edge against the wooden table.
"No, no. The tap's fine now. Besides, these lessons are always a top priority." He cleared his throat, eyes scurrying over the floor as if he was fidgety and nervous all of a sudden. "You're gettin' real good, I mean. S'why we gotta keep goin' right now. You're a fast learner."
"Thank you," you blissfully whispered, corners of your mouth lifted and a warm liquid pooling in your stomach.
"You want somethin' to drink before we start? I can offer you⌠water, tea and coffee."
"A glass of water would be nice."
"Are you sure? It's no problem, I can heat up some coffee â " He always did that, and it made you grin every single time.
"It's okay. Really."
As Joel headed to the kitchen to get you that glass of water, you wondered what he was thinking right now. Maybe he was asking himself whether there would ever be the day when you wouldn't ask for water but something else. You just hoped that he didn't hold a grudge against you for being late, but at the same time, you found that Joel was in quite a good mood today. Which was remarkable since his goddamn water tap had broken in the morning. God⌠you wondered what you would have done. Probably have a crying attack on the bathroom tiles. And then live with your friend for the next few weeks.
"Here we go," Joel uttered and placed the glass in front of you.
"Thanks. I love those flowers, by the way." You pointed to the vase on the cupboard in the corner of the room, eyes settling on him as he gave a faint nod.
"Oh yeah. Yeah, they're nice."
"Did someone get them for you?" You knew that it was none of your business who was gifting Joel a flower bouquet, but goddamnit, you were curious.
"No, no. No, they⌠I got them yesterday. You⌠You don't know how long flowers survive by any chance?"
He looked nervous, anxious almost in the way his big eyes roamed your face, resembling a puppy or a frightened deer.
"Ehm⌠I don't know. A few days, I think."
He bought them for someone? For whom? He wasn't seeing anyone, was he? And why did the idea have such a firm grip on you? Why did you care so much?
"You think they'll last until Saturday?"
"Did you pick them yourself?"
"Yes," Joel answered, which made your stomach flutter.
Shit. Whoever this mysterious lady was, she was a lucky lady. Joel Miller leaving the walls of Jackson to personally collect flowers which even fit the orange-purple color scheme of the bouquet. She must be special. And at the same time, you had to admit to yourself that it bothered you the slightest bit. Not the idea of Joel making such an effort to please a person that he clearly had an interest in of course but the thought that there was someone in his life.
He was just your teacher, sure, so you most certainly played only a small role in his life, but you really liked him and had grown close to him in the recent months. Why couldn't he just stay single? You would never ask him to go on a date with you since you were much too shy and scared of rejection, so it was a little hypocritical and ridiculous of you to be upset by him dating someone, but what did it matter?
You wouldn't say it out loud, obviously. You just wanted things to stay like they had been before. Seeing Joel every week for your lessons plus sometimes in town and knowing that the both of you were relatively happy as singles. That way, you could relish the time you spent with him, occasionally sink into one or two daydreams and not be stressed about such things as reading your opposite's behavior to figure out whether they liked you as more than friends. Or whatever the two of you were to each other. But with Joel dating someone, all of this felt different.
Suddenly, you felt guilty about the times you had laid in your bed at night when you couldn't sleep, your thoughts drifting off to your teacher. He made it easy, goddamnit. Something about him was so incredibly domestic and gentle, that imagining yourself on the couch next to him, one of his arms draped around your shoulders while he read a book was the easiest task you could ever take on. Everything about him screamed a quiet, peaceful life which was filled with a lot of soft kisses, hot steaming tea and lying in bed on a Saturday morning. You could be wrong about it, but you believed that Joel Miller was the type of person who woke up a little earlier than his partner in order to sneak downstairs, make coffee and bring two cups up that they would sip in bed. Well, perhaps you could ask his girlfriend about all of this and find out whether you were right about your guesses.
"You know, it's⌠I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but⌠whatever." He took his bottom lip between his teeth, face muscles working as he seemed to wrestle with himself. "Just don't tell anyone. The flowers are for⌠for Maria. She⌠she had her child."
Oh. The realization hit you like a cold shower, even though a split second later, you felt relieved.
Your silly brain had woven quite the tale there while the truth was so logical and easy.
Of course. His sister in law had given birth and he wanted to surprise her with a flower bouquet. Shit, you really were overdramatic and a little dumb sometimes.
"Oh, congratulations!" you exclaimed, smiling widely.
"Yeah, ehm⌠I mean, say that to her. No, I â Don't say that to her. Say it to her when you hear about it from someone else instead of me."
"Why doesn't she want to tell anyone?"
Joel leaned back in his chair and for the moment, the guitar in your lap remained unimportant.
"Well, you know 'er and Tommy. They got so much on their plate, they're involved in everything, and if people knew it, they'd probably flood the hospital to come and congratulate 'em. They just want a little peace. Some time for them alone before the storm."
"I understandâŚ" you muttered, staring into space before scoffing quietly. "Wow⌠Little Benji has a sister now. I can't believe it. I remember when Maria had him. It feels like yesterday."
"It does, doesn't it?" Joel snorted, then finally gestured to the guitar. "See, I don't mind talkin' 'bout the past and my brother's kid, but I assume you're here for the lesson. And I don't wanna waste your time with all that."
Although your heart urged you to tell him how you were truthfully feeling and that you couldn't imagine something nicer than spending your morning talking with him about all sorts of things from Tommy's family, both your arrivals in Jackson and the past years, you just nodded and adjusted the instrument on your legs. If only you weren't such a coward.
"Okay. Shoot, Mr. I'm all ears." Your opposite slowly shook his head though his face was drawn with amusement.
"Alright⌠Did you practice at home?"
"Of course, I did. But I honestly can't hear that song anymore."
Joel planted his flat palms on the surface and raised his eyebrows. "Can you play it one more time for me?"
"Okay. But only because it's you."
You quickly averted your gaze to avoid seeing his reaction and perhaps shiver in embarrassment at whatever expression he was holding in that moment. Sometimes you just couldn't stop yourself from making comments like that since Joel really made it inviting. But witnessing how his face responded to them was too much even for you. Instead, you dropped your eyes to the strings.
"Is it already tuned?" you asked without looking at him.
"Yep."
"Oh so you had time for that? Your water tap broke, you told me you were late but you had time to tune guitar⌠sure. You know what I think? I think you just told me that story of being late so that I feel better about being late every second time â "
"Play the song," Joel interrupted you, his body vibrating with low, barely audible chuckles.
"Right, sorry."
You bit down on your lip, suppressing your own laughter and bringing your fingertips to the bridge. Middle finger to the E-string. Third fret.
"Are you ready?"
"I'm ready."
Then you started to play. It was Blackbird by the Beatles, a song that you loved as a child and specifically requested to learn how to play. The only disadvantage was that now, four weeks later, it was stuck in your head every day and you were beginning to grow tired of it. Which was why you hoped that if you proved Joel that you had mastered the tune, he would allow you to start a new song.
When the last note swung in the air, you slowly raised your head, thinking that you had done a rather good job. You had accidentally played the fourth fret when you had been supposed to play the fifth at one point during the song, but fortunately, you had quickly found your way back in, which was why you hoped that Joel had barely noticed it.
"Well, very good," Joel cleared his throat and ran his eyes across the bridge of the guitar.
"Thanks. As I said, I practiced."
"Yeah, you did⌠The chorus was much smoother than last week. I heard that one mistake, though."
"Yes, I know⌠I'm just always scared that I can't do the change and play the sixth fret instead of the fifth, which is why I sometimes reach too far down."
Joel nodded in understanding and drummed his fingers on the table. "Just don't be scared of the jump. If you're scared, you're gonna hesitate and always panic right before that part. I promise you, if you face it bravely, it's gonna work. In that case, it ain't about technique or what you can or can't do, because you can do it. You just gotta believe in yourself."
His speech had sounded very important and significant, and considering the fact that he was speaking about playing the guitar you couldn't help but widen your eyes in surprise. You even felt the hair at the back of your neck stir, but you ignored it.
"Yeah⌠Okay. I'm gonna try it," you answered and rubbed the pads of your fingers together.
"Are they hurtin'?" Joel immediately picked up on it and stretched his arm in your direction. "Lemme see."
"No, they're fine, IâŚ" you began, but your voice trailed off as he grabbed your wrist and turned it to take a look at your fingers. "They're okay."
You cleared your throat, feeling heat creep up in your cheeks.
"They're a 'lil raw."
"Yes, but they're okay. I promise."
"Don't overdo it with the practicing. It's good that you're so motivated but I don't want ya hurtin'."
Nodding determinedly, you peered at his face which was lowered as he was scrutinizing your hands like he still hadn't found what he was looking for.
"A callus is formin'⌠which is good. But I'm gonna give ya a salve that you can apply after each session. S'gonna soothe the skin."
"Alright⌠Thanks." You shuddered at the physical contact, wondering how a person's skin could feel so calloused and rough, yet so warm and soft at the same time. Your hands were still a bit cold from the early morning walk, but Joel's⌠They instantly made it all a lot better, and you could swear there were little sparks flying between your fingers and his. At least your body felt like it with the electric waves rippling through your limbs.
When he released your hand, you almost felt a little disappointed, even though you knew that the two of you had reached a point where ongoing physical contact would have become awkward. To distract from your flustered state, you brought the topic back to the question of whether you were ready to play a new song or if you would be stuck with Blackbird for another week.
"What do you think? Can we start something new? Because I would really like to, Joel."
"You got somethin' specific in mind?"
You pursed your lips and tilted your head to the side. "MaybeâŚ"
"Okay, what is it?"
"Is that important�" you carefully asked. You presumed that Joel might not love your suggestion and if the decision of whether you would start a new song depended on whether he liked your idea, you were not so sure you would succeed.
"Yeah. Tell me what it is, and maybe I'm gonna say yes."
"Well⌠I was thinking Shape of my heart?" You made it sound like a question on purpose to signal him that he was still in charge of choosing the songs for you. After all, he was the expert and knew if a piece was too difficult or wouldn't sound good on your old, worn guitar.
"Shape of my heart by StingâŚ" Joel groaned and scratched the side of his head. "Jesus."
"I really don't understand what you have against him. It's a beautiful song. And the guitar is so nice. Do you think it's too hard for me? I would just like to try, you know?"
"The song is okay. I just don't love his solo projects. He was much better with the Police. So if you told me you wanted to learn Every Breath You Take or Every Little Thing She Does Is MagicâŚ"
You rolled your eyes and jutted your chin forward. "Please. I've always wanted to learn it."
You sounded almost pleading, which caused Joel to scoff gently.
"Alright. Can't refuse you any wish anyway, mhm?"
As your skin prickled joyfully, head spinning a little and throat drying, you couldn't tell if your happiness was based on the fact that you would finally get to learn one of your favorite songs or on that last remark. Can't refuse you any wish anyway. Was that the truth or had he just said that without any meaning behind it? Did he actually find it hard to say no to you? It would be a good thing, wouldn't it? It would mean that there were times when his demeanor softened and he questioned his principles, and you were the reason for it.
"Thank you," you grinned and rubbed your hands together. "Can we start right away?"
"Damnit⌠If you hold up that motivation, I might not regret this. I gotta listen to it too for an hour. Don't make me regret it."
"You won't regret it," you quickly assured and glanced down at your hands, waiting for the first instructions.
"Give me the guitar for a moment, darlin'."
You nodded and lifted the instrument in the air for Joel to take it.
"Okay⌠So, I actually learned this myself back when I had lessons as a kid. Just let me try to remember it."
He started playing, his quick, nimble fingers scurrying across the bridge. You were always amazed by his talent, utterly bewildered by how easy and effortless it looked whenever he did it. And god knows, you really had learned that it took a lot of practice and patience to get relatively good at it.
On top of it all, he was playing the song you so desperately had longed to learn for the past weeks, which resulted in quite the magical moment for you. The sight of Joel, his beautiful brown eyes transfixed on the strings, the deft movements of his fingers and the beautiful music filling your ears. It was over far too soon, and somehow you didn't feel ready to interrupt the silence just yet. Joel seemed to, though.
"Yeah, I think you're gonna be able to learn that."
"How do you still know it? I thought you haven't played it in so long," you whispered, still in awe of the music his hands were able to produce so smoothly.
"I'm not sure⌠Might've played it a few times since then and just forgot about it. Or it just stuck with me."
He was looking at you directly now, which made you feel caught doing something forbidden.
"Your turn, lady," Joel then uttered and handed you the instrument again. This time, he didn't remain seated and walked over to you, standing next to your chair and putting his hands on his hips. "There're a lot of chord changes, so I think it's gonna be best if I help you a little with that instead of always guiding you from there."
Making a vague gesture to his empty seat, Joel adjusted the guitar on your lap, seemingly unaware of what he was doing to you by standing so close to you. Just his presence alone, his aftershave, the heat his body radiated was something you were so incredibly aware of while Joel spoke to you. Kindly⌠and warmly.
"Okay, put your index finger on the B-string. Tenth fret. And then your ring finger on G. Sixth fret."
"Tenth and sixth?" you repeated, peeking over your shoulder to ensure that he was certain. "Yeah. You're gonna have to stretch your fingers quite a bit. But don't worry, you're gonna manage it."
"I'm glad one of us believes in thatâŚ" you murmured but complied with his request and tried to place your fingers across the guitar neck according to his instructions.
"Good. Now â " He gently took your ring finger and guided it to the A-string, ninth fret. It didn't make it more uncomfortable, yet the chord grip demanded a great portion of focus and strain from you, which made you doubt whether you had made the wrong choice wanting to play that song.
"You can do it," Joel claimed, sensing your motivation decreasing.
"I don't know if I can," you spoke, your fingers trembling, which led Joel to help you maintain the hold by tilting your wrist. Even though your hands hurt a little, your expression drawn with exhaustion, you couldn't stop thinking about how goddamn close he was. How his finger pads applied such gentle, sweet force on your hand, how his lips couldn't be far away from your ear right now.
"That's it. You got it. I promise, it's gonna get better with every time you practice it. I know that it's not easy, but we're gonna make it work. It's your favorite song, right? It's gonna be worth it."
You found it incredibly kind and nice of Joel to try and motivate you to try harder even though he hadn't made it a secret that he didn't quite like the song the way you did. He could have just given up at once, stating that if you were already struggling, the two of you should rather scrap the project before you would only feel more disappointed. No, he was doing this for you, because he knew how important it was to you even if your shock over how hard it was was overshadowing that importance as of now.
"You can hold it a little longer?" Joel asked, still touching your wrist, though he scarcely used any force now. He just⌠had his hand there, that was all. As if to tell you I'm gonna catch your hand in case you can't uphold it any longer and it drops.
"Yes," you responded and carefully glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze.
"Now you play the B-string, then the A-string and the G-string."
It took you some time to get some order into your fingers and hit the right notes, but in the end, you repeated the memorable melody multiple times while grinning delightfully.
"Very good," Joel praised you, still standing behind you though he wasn't anywhere near your hand any longer. You wouldn't have minded if he still were.
"It won't sound very smooth in the beginning, but just give it some time. You wanna move to the next chord progression?"
"Yes⌠But would you mind writing them down later? I don't know if I'm gonna be able to remember."
That was another thing that hadn't changed and perhaps just would never change in his lessons with you. You asked that question every single time, and Joel nodded in agreement every time, accompanied by a friendly smile. "Of course I will. Don't worry about it."
Then, he lifted his hand again, placing it on top of yours with a quiet "Is that okay?"
You just nodded, but since it was a light gesture that he could have mistaken for a mere sway of your head, Joel waited for you to speak.
"Yes."
"AlrightâŚ" He adjusted your fingers, and you had to admit that it probably was a lot easier like that instead of instructing the position of every single finger. If it just wouldn't throw you off course so badly⌠How were you supposed to focus on flexing your hands just right and hit the correct notes while his soft skin was connected to yours? While he felt so warm, so mellow against you. While his head was hovering right next to yours, or at least that was how you pictured it in your mind. You were too scared to turn your neck since his close proximity might distract you even more than his hands alone already did.
He led you like this for a while longer, his touch conducting you to play the right notes and his velvety voice both instructing and complimenting you. You knew that he must be acting nice on purpose because you simply couldn't believe that you were doing a good job. Sweat was pooling on your brow, your pupils were frantically flicking between the veins on his wrist and what you were actually supposed to focus on â the strings â and your breath caught in your throat every once in a while. You were a mess.
Did Joel not notice it? Or was he just being polite by ignoring your fidgety demeanor? Gosh⌠usually you were better at concentrating, even though you had to admit to yourself that this wasn't the first time Joel standing next to you had sent you in a bit of a spiral.
"I'm sorry," you whispered after messing up the same part for the third time and even allowed yourself to glance behind you, stomach coiling at his slightly puckered lips.
"Don't worry 'bout it, s'fine. You're bein' too hard on yourself."
"No, I think you're being too nice," you contradicted, a shy smile playing around your mouth.
"Me? Too nice?"
You had to exhale through your nose, some of the tension falling off you. He was right, Joel surely was someone who was rarely considered too nice by any of the people in Jackson. He had a reputation of being grumpy, very brusque and avoidant of huge social gatherings. But that version that you knew and had grown to like so much wasn't at all grumpy or cold. Maybe he appeared that way to people that didn't know him well, but you couldn't think of anyone more patient and kind-hearted than this extraordinary man.
"You are nice," you insisted, still not looking away even though your nervous system began to go feral.
"Thank you. But I think you just depend on me liking you so that you get your guitar lessons. And can play songs like that."
"Do you? Like me?" Your heart skipped a beat as you waited for his answer. The moment stretched to what felt like minutes or even hours, though Joel hesitated for just a split second.
"Yes."
Your throat was so dry, a desert was nothing compared to it. Why was it so quiet all of a sudden? Should you hit a note just so that your heartbeat wasn't the only noise inside his living room? And had he been so close to you the entire time? Shit, you could even see the little age spots across his nose and cheeks. Hopefully, you smelled as good as he did.
"JoelâŚ" you mouthed, even though you didn't know what you wanted him to do.
Continue the lesson? No. Act like nothing happened and this was just a normal side conversation to the guitar lesson? Most definitely not.
He didn't reply, nor did a muscle in his face move. His hand did, though. He ran his fingers along your knuckles, tracing each one like he wanted to make sure not even your thumb felt neglected. Your breath caught in your throat again, and this time it almost sounded like a gasp.
Then, his hand was on the inside of your wrist where he brushed over your thin skin light as a feather. All of a sudden, you felt feverish, your head cloudy with the need to discover what he was going to do next. He wouldn't just stop at your hand, would he? Should you tell him that you liked it or would that come across as weird? You felt a hand at your chin and only then realized that he had let go of your wrist.
"Y/n?" he whispered, tilting your head just right so that you could stare directly into his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Can I kiss you?"
All you could do was nod and straighten up even more to make it easier for him to press his lips to yours.
The kiss was gentle and careful, which was exactly what you craved at that moment. You wanted to savour the moment to the fullest without being rushed. His mouth parted a little, pecking at your bottom lip with so much tender care, you felt a rush of joy flooding your veins. There was adrenaline, yes⌠But also something much more subtle and light that made you feel like Joel and you were levitating a few inches above the floor.
"That good?" he muttered against your lips after a time that was impossible to estimate. You wouldn't have been surprised if the two of you had been kissing for hours, but there was a good chance that it had been a matter of minutes as well.
"Yes," you smiled, his lips ghosting over yours before he trailed them along your mouth again. Meanwhile, his hand was on your chin again to caress your skin while his other rested on your shoulder. It almost seemed as though he was fighting with himself, trying to decide if he should touch the side of your head with it but was yet too shy to actually do it.
You weren't though. After the first wave of nervousness had abated and you could fully give all your soul and passion into the kiss, you had brought your right hand to his head, occasionally tugging at his locks and combing through them. Your other hand lay on his arm, mainly still and just to feel him, but every now and then, you rubbed it lovingly.
"Joel?" you mumbled a little later even though it had taken all your strength to pull back enough for him to hear your murmuring.
"Yeah?"
"I don't wanna stop." You really hoped that he understood what you were implying with that.
"Oh yeah� You don't wanna stop?"
"No."
Joel withdrew an inch to get a better look at your expression. "Yeah, I⌠I don't wanna stop either."
He stopped talking, but something about the way a tendon next to his eye pulled made you think that he wasn't done yet.
"I⌠I just haven't done this in â in a while, you know?"
You nodded in understanding, brushing back a loose strand of hair that you had messed up quite a bit with your playing.
"That's okay. What are you comfortable with?"
He scoffed gently, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I⌠I just want it to be nice for you, you know?"
"Okay⌠That's what you want?" you chuckled and felt your heart flutter as Joel placed his hand on top of yours that was still resting on the side of his head.
"Yeah. I wanna make ya feel good, darlin'. If you'll let me."
"Yes," you said immediately, thinking that you might have answered a bit too early to not sound like a horny teenager. Even though you still didn't know what exactly Joel had in mind, you figured that you would love to find out on your own and therefore just followed him to the couch after he had taken the guitar from you and leaned it against the wall. Then, he sat sideways on the couch, his back against the armrest and his legs spread.
"You wanna come here?" Giving him a short nod and licking your lips in anticipation, you complied with his wish and lowered yourself on the cushions.
"No, I was⌠I was thinkin' you sit between my legs. With your back against my chest. If you⌠want that."
Yeah, that made a lot more sense, you had to admit. You quickly crawled between his legs, suppressing a giggle when you felt his strong chest behind you. It was unfamiliar to be so close to him, but at the same time, it was as though you had meant to be here all along. Or like you had sat against him like that a million times before. He felt right. Like the curves of your bodies fit perfectly.
"You are very pretty," Joel whispered in your ear, making you shudder and wriggle in his lap as you couldn't hold back that energy within you any longer. You needed him. And you felt like Joel wasn't even mildly aware of the effect he had on you by saying such things.
"Thank you. You're⌠you're handsome too."
"Can I touch you?"
"Yes," you panted, feeling how he moved your hair aside so that he could kiss your nape.
"Where?"
Excitement flared in your tummy, but at the same time you felt as though the longer he kept teasing you, the more you lost your ability to speak.
"Everywhere, Joel."
Suddenly, a hand landed on your lower stomach, fingers stretched out to capture as much of your flesh as possible.
"I would really like to open 'em," Joel murmured, finding the button of your jeans.
"Yeah," you breathed and threw your head back, which was now leaning against his shoulder with its entire weight. You could feel Joel's nervousness in how he failed to pull the button through the hole at the first try. It was no surprise considering he hadn't been in such an intimate setting in a long time â how long, he had maintained a secret â but for you, it didn't kill the moment at all. If anything, it made it even more special.
Despite his avoidance of touching someone after all that time, he chose to do it with you. He let you in, broke down his wall to sit on the couch with you and do something that he perhaps had already decided never to do again in his life. There hadn't been anyone else. All the stories your brain had come up with, they were false. For now, he was yours alone.
After helping him tug down your jeans by hauling up your hips, you eagerly placed your hands on your own thighs, waiting for what he was going to do next. You could only imagine how good his fingers would feel between your thighs, how amazingly he would fill you with his thick digits.
"Can I?" he asked politely, drawing quick circles over your hipbone.
"Yes. Please, Joel."
"AlrightâŚ" Joel growled, kissing your neck and roaming your inner thighs with his palm. "You're gonna have to talk to me⌠Is that okay? I just â I wanna make it good and I â I don't know if I â if I'm gonna make it so good on my own. Without your help."
"It's okay, JoelâŚ" you breathed, sincerely unable to believe that he wasn't aware of the fact that he could quite literally do anything to you, touch you at your damn kneecaps and you would be satisfied.
"I'm gonna help you. But don't worry. You â I'm good. So good. And it's already good. Doesn't even have to be better than it already is."
A low grunt that somewhat resembled laughter gushed from his chest, making your skin vibrate.
"Well, I wanna make it better for you."
With that, Joel trailed two of his fingers through your clothed slit, starting at your hole and making their way up to your clit, which was already pulsating like it normally only did right before you orgasmed.
"JoelâŚ" you howled, toes curling as he paused right at your bundle of nerves that surely poked him in his fingertips given how stiff it was.
He didn't say a lot, perhaps he was too focused on touching you, but the noises he involuntarily made were very much to your liking. His breath quickened at once, and there was a grunt or a snarl spilling from his throat occasionally. In no time, your panties were soaked even though Joel really took his time giving you more gradually. The pace with which he touched you indicated that he was still a little anxious about messing up, but at the same time, he moved so precisely and accurately that you genuinely had no advice for him.
"S'good, Joel⌠So good. Really â good," you panted, arching your back. But then you had the opportunity to catch your breath for a moment as Joel finally took off your underwear as well. Thus far, he had hardly given any attention to your sopping hole, but now that the garment was removed, he dipped his fingertips into your pussy, shoving them inside until his pads were coated in your juices, then pulling them out.
"Joel," you whimpered, missing his touch on your clit, but he seemed too mesmerized by your level of wetness to actually bother.
"So beautiful, darlin'⌠I can't believe it."
You chuckled and returned to the present for a moment, grabbing his thighs for stability as you turned in his grasp.
"Can't believe what?"
"That you let an old man like me touch you."
Both surprise and outrage flooded your mind, your brow furrowing. "Are you kidding me? I wouldn't want anyone else touching me."
"Is that true?" Joel hummed, pressing his lips against your cheek as he rocked his palm against your throbbing clit. "You could have anyone in this town⌠And you end up with your grumpy guitar teacher. Why."
"Oh, JoelâŚ" you whispered. It felt a little off to talk about how much he meant to you and how much you liked him while he was fingering you, but there was no way you would tell him to pause. "I don't want anyone. I want you. And I've been wanting you for quite a whileâŚ"
"Really?" he uttered, voice a little hollower than it normally was.
"Yeah⌠When we⌠when I saw the flowers earlier. I was really jealous, you know? Because I thought you made them for another woman. I was really â mad at myself. For feeling that way, but I⌠I couldn't help it."
"I had no ideaâŚ"
"I'm sorry. For not saying something earlier. But please stop talking about yourself like that. You⌠you are amazing, Joel. Kind and warm and â and funny. Respectful. And sweet."
He chuckled, probably wondering how you were coming up with such terms that no one had ever called him before. He was to you, though.
"And talented," you then added, wriggling your hips to show him that you were referring to his hand on your pussy.
"Yeah?" he scoffed and pushed his fingers inside you deeper, almost to his middle joint. You sharply hissed through your clenched teeth, feeling a faint burn spread in your core. Even though you probably hadn't remained obstinate for as long as Joel had, you hadn't been with anyone for a few months now either. And when you masturbated, you usually didn't use your fingers inside you.
"You feel so good, sweetheart⌠You need a minute?" Joel rumbled, snaking his free arm around your waist to settle his hand on top of your stomach.
"Just â Just a second. It's good. Really good, just â just a moment." You panted like you were on the run, your cheeks flushed and your lip probably bloody from constantly driving your teeth in it.
"Okay⌠Whatever you need." He drew a few soothing circles into your clit, which made your muscles loosen at once and your thoughts wandering off. You barely perceived the sting and instead could only lose your mind over how well he grazed his thumb over your clit, stimulating it exactly where it pulsed and ached the most.
"JoelâŚ" you sighed and ran your hands up his forearms, softly whimpering at every single bulging vein you felt beneath your fingertips.
He was handsome. Screw his talk about being old and aged. You were incredibly weak for the delicious mixture of masculinity and softness that he possessed. Joel was the kind of man you would feel safe with in any scenario and simultaneously would never be scared of. You had rarely met men who had both. His nature was gentle and loving, his hands and voice radiating heat and ardor, but despite his keenness, he made sure he had your permission for every step he took with you. God, the combination truly was intoxicating.
Not long after that, you asked him to push his fingers deeper inside your hole, your stomach fluttering as he fed you another inch. Now, it didn't sting anymore at all. Sure, your walls had to stretch to fit his digits inside, but it was the most delightful and thrilling kind of stretch. There was just enough sensation to sense the thickness of his fingers without it being uncomfortable or even painful.
"Joel, it feels so⌠feels good."
"Yeah?" he purred, slowly thrusting his fingers in you.
"Yeah. Really good." Your knees felt terribly weak, blood rushing to your head and your core without a pause, but how you looked right now â probably like a tomato â didn't matter. There were too many things to focus on.
"Please," you muttered, eyes closed, legs buckled to press your heels into the cushions.
"What, sweetheart? What do you need?" Applying some light pressure on your belly, Joel dragged you closer against him, his chest and torso firm like a wall behind you.
"Just⌠you."
"You think you're gonna be able to cum like this, darling?" He kissed along your neck once more, stretching his neck to suck at your pulse point, which made you whine out pathetically.
"Yes. Yes, I â I want to."
Joel now simultaneously stimulated your insides and clit, delivering slow but intense thrusts inside you. Sometimes, he circled his fingers snug between your walls, which you had never experienced before, but instantly made you grip his thighs tightly, nearly choking on your own spit. His thumb moved a little faster around your clit, occasionally tapping on it and bringing some of the natural fluids your vagina was producing to the bundle of nerves to touch it more smoothly. At this point, you were seeing stars and your body only heated up more with every second that Joel didn't stop. He wouldn't stop, that much you knew.
As you rolled your hips a little, meeting his rapid rubbing, you felt his hard cock pressed between your bodies. You would have liked to palm him through his pants, giving him at least something while he was so incredibly generous with you, but that would have required you to halt his motions and shift your position. And goddamnit, but everything was too good to stop it.
"You need me to go faster, honey?" Joel snarled, voice laced with lust and longing.
"No. Like this, Joel, just like this, oh fuck."
Head dropping forward to your chest, you tightened your clutch around Joel's leg, nails grazing the tightly woven fabric of his jeans.
"I want you to cum, sweetheart. I want you to cum on my fingers⌠You're doin' so well. And you look soooo pretty for me right now. Lettin' me touch you like that."
Frankly, you were surprised by Joel's words since he had been rather quiet before, which you had thought was due to his concerns about his own set of skills. But hearing him talk like that you felt relieved about him loosening up more. Gosh⌠How would you ever be able to sit through another hour of practicing the guitar with him when each complimentary phrase of his would remind you of this.
"I⌠Joel, I don't â " you began, though you had no idea what exactly was running through your mind right now.
"What, darlin'⌠What is it, mhm?" He wrapped his left arm more firmly around you, keeping you trapped against him while stuffing you full with his fingers, only fluttering with the tips to hit your g-spot.
"Don't â I don't wanna cum, Joel."
"You don't wanna cum?" he repeated, taken aback by your unexpected wish.
"NoâŚ"
"Why, baby? Why don't you wanna cum for me?"
"BecauseâŚ" you started, rifling through your brain to search for a reason for your claim. "'Cause then it will be overâŚ"
He gave a throaty laugh, kissing the tip of your nose before gently turning your head again so that he could devour your nape once more.
"No, sweetheart⌠You're gonna cum. It's okay⌠You cummin' for me doesn't mean it won't happen again, does it?"
Your heart jumped in your chest, pulse racing behind your temples. So it wasn't clearly a one-time thing as you had already secretly feared in your mind. This might happen again. He wanted it to happen again.
"Yes, Joel⌠I want it to happen again," you mewled, tilting your head to the side, features drawn with effort. You were so close, it felt like your body was about to explode. All your muscles were pulled taut, ready to snap if Joel gave you that final little something.
"I got ya. God, baby, look at you. Ride my hand like that, yeah⌠It's gonna feel so good. You're so good to me, sweetheart⌠I don't deserve ya, sweetheart⌠So fuckin' pretty, goddamnit."
He squeezed you even closer against his front so that you were completely swallowed by his large frame.
"Ah," you choked, nails creating a burning sting where they dug into the flesh of his forearms.
"That's it⌠That's it, baby." Joel pressed quick, uncontrollable kisses along your scalp, which made you think that he was almost more excited for you climaxing than you were. Well, he probably hadn't witnessed such a sight for years, so it was no surprise, right?
When you finally reached your high, Joel held you close to him, murmuring the phrase "I got you, baby, yesâŚ" in your ear over and over while you squealed and whimpered. Your legs were trembling, feet kicking an invisible creature at the end of the couch and the muscles in your lower stomach frantically twitching.
"Fuck. JoelâŚ" You wanted to turn in his grasp to see more of him, but he just held you there, leaving you no room to move but telling you what a good and beautiful girl you were for him.
"You did so well. Oh god, darling⌠You're much too sweet for me. What did I do to deserve ya, mhm?"
When you tried to shift again, he let you, relaxing his arms slightly so that you could move around to straddle his thighs.
"I'm not too sweet for you, Joel," you smiled and briefly gasped as your swollen pussy settled on his thigh. "You're amazing. You just⌠you made me feel so good."
Joel snorted through his nose, avoiding your eyes as you planted your hands on his shoulders.
"It's nothin'⌠I'm just glad I didn't forget all about it the past years."
"You were really good," you grinned, gently rocking your hips forward to tease his crotch. Joel ground his teeth at the friction, his hips jolting while you felt your lips curl.
"SweetheartâŚ" he hissed, placing his hands on your waist to have some control over your movements.
"Do you want me to take care of it?"
He looked conflicted, eyes flicking across your face, the glint in your pupils. His expression dampened your excitement, so you paused your movement and instead questioningly tilted your head.
"We don't have to. Of course not. I was just thinking that you⌠that you might want some relief too. And you were so nice to me â "
"You don't owe me anything," Joel uttered, making a dismissive hand gesture.
"I know," you whispered and affectionately caressed his cheek. "But I want you to know that if you want it⌠I would love to make you feel good."
Joel's throat moved as he swallowed hard, eyes still hooded and blown with lust, but first and foremost, he looked undecided.
"I â I⌠I do want it." He chuckled. "I mean, how could I not. There's a goddamn goddess sittin' in my lap." Sighing out, he shook his head a few times like he couldn't believe this wasn't a dream.
"You want it?" you asked.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "I just⌠As I said, I â I haven't⌠done it in a while. And I thought â I thought that touchin' you will be a lot easier 'cause there's less I can mess up."
It was clear that it wasn't easy for Joel to be so truthful and vulnerable with you, so you tried to react as sensitively as possible and gently kissed him on his cheek. But before you could answer, he continued.
"I mean I would like to â feel ya, darlin'. There's nothin' I want more. Just⌠I wanna make it good for ya. S'just⌠a lot, you know? To keep in mind, to focus on, to remember. You felt so â tight, 'n' I don't wanna hurt ya. And then I wanna make ya feel good, but I don't know if I still know how to do that 'n' I'm thinkin' that I would be so stressed that â that it might not work, you know?"
He briefly glanced down at his center as if to assess if his manhood would play along tonight.
"JoelâŚ" you hummed, taking his face into both hands and kissing him tenderly. "What if â I got an idea."
"And what's that, baby?"
"Let me ride you." You shifted a little closer, your core hovering above his crotch.
"You wanna ride me?"
"Yeah. You can relax⌠Shut your brain off. You're not gonna have to think about messing something up or⌠or making it fit. I'm gonna do all of it. I mean, otherwise I could also suck you off. If you preferred that."
Joel's teeth scraped his bottom lip, his brain working as he regarded you curiously. Then, he swallowed and leaned back, giving you his permission to continue as you desired.
"Fine. Yeah⌠why not?"
"Why not?" you giggled, pulling at a strand of his salt-and-pepper hair. "That's what you have to say? Why not?"
His face drew with amusement. "Alright, I'm gonna correct myself. I feel very blessed."
"You should beâŚ" you muttered lowly, your hot breath tingling at his ear.
With that, a switch within you had flipped. Your hands flew to his belt, unclasping it, but right before you were about to undo his button, you stopped and seductively bit down on your lip. He hadn't even seen anything of you so far. Except for your pussy, of course. Without giving him any word of explanation, you pulled your shirt over your head and dropped it onto the floor next to the couch. You were beyond content with his reaction, which consisted of a deep sigh, a pair of agape lips and a dark flash in his eyes.
"Jesus⌠Take that off too?"
"As you wish," you smirked wryly, unhooking your bra and carelessly tossing it over your shoulder.
"Fuck. You're gorgeous, baby." You were almost ready to berate him once more, expecting him to tell you that he wasn't worthy of you, but this time, there was no need for it. Joel just stared at your bare chest, fully mesmerized and bewitched by the sight. He ran a hand over your waist, cautiously travelling an inch or two upward, but stopping at your rib cage like he was scared to go any further.
"You can touch me, Joel," you breathed, breathless already even though nothing had really happened yet.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you confirmed, chewing on your already swollen and dry lips while waiting for him to take action.
At last, he did. First, he traced the curve of your breast, his feather-light brush trailing along the gap between your tits. After that, he lowered his head to kiss the swell of your right breast, his hand roaming your left in the meantime. Joel moved inch by inch, taking his time exploring every part of you until your nipples were the cherry on top. He licked his lips beforehand, threw you one last glance, then took your nipple in his mouth.
Just like the kiss the two of you had shared earlier, he was soft and careful, moving around the little bud as if you had just told him that they were sore. You didn't mind it in the least. You had been with guys before who had simply taken and demanded more, touched you the way they had required to reach their orgasm as fast as possible without paying any mind to your desires. Joel, he⌠he must be from another world. Or be another species.
"Baby, you're gorgeous," he moaned after a while, not bothering to pull back more than a mere inch to spit the words out. Your face was gleaming, cheeks coated in a bright pink as you received his compliments that sounded so genuine, so in awe of you.
"Thank you, Joel," you answered, straightening up a little more to offer him your naked chest. He had one arm snaked around your back, shoving you closer against him every time you slouched while his other comfortably rested on top of the breast that his mouth wasn't occupied with right now.
As time passed, he became a little greedier, his previous gentleness turning into something feral and more primal. Low grunts escaped his throat, his touch became firmer and even his lips now gently sucked on your nipple rather than drawing circles around it. And with his hunger, your lust increased as well.
"Joel," you panted, pulling at his roots and swaying your hips on top of him.
"What is it, darlin'?" he snarled, moving up to your collarbone with his mouth gently nibbling at your skin. You wanted to laugh as you hadn't expected him to be so bold, but the sound caught in your throat.
"Just⌠Need you."
"You need me?" He smirked, clearly enjoying you voicing your longing for him.
"Yes. Can I â "
"Yes. You can."
Joel let go of your nipple with a plop though his gaze remained on your curves for a beat longer while you adjusted on top of him. You hadn't been on top many times before, which was why you were a little nervous as well. At the same time, though, you assumed that if the both of you weren't completely certain in your talents, it would be fine.
You quickly unzipped his jeans, halting for a split second when you saw the curvature of his dick. He looked huge. Bigger than anyone you had ever had. Goddamnit, perhaps he should have warned you. You were not only supposed to take the reins but also imbibe a cock that fucking large? Well, maybe you should forge an opinion once you had actually seen his length without his underwear on.
With that thought in mind, you pulled at the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down with the help of Joel. He didn't care to strip them off his legs but just let them dangle around his mid-thighs, digging his hands into your waist. His cock was already rock hard, slapping against his abdomen.
Jesus⌠You unconsciously clenched your hands into fists, lips twitching as you regarded a drop of precum streaming down his enormous length. It really was enormous, and there was no other word to describe it. The tip was swollen and pink, looking so inviting and painful that you wished to put your lips around it and suck on it. But since Joel and you hadn't agreed on it, you settled with examining it a couple of seconds longer, your pulse quickening at every single plump vein intertwining along his fat shaft.
"Somethin' wrong?" Joel whispered at once, causing you to shift your attention to him. "We don't have to, you know that, right?"
"No," you immediately protested, lips curling upward and hands reaching for his chest that was still covered by his shirt. "Of course I want it. Just⌠It's big, Joel."
"You want me to prepare ya a 'lil longer?" Joel teasingly rubbed along the curve of your hip, wandering toward your center until you shook your head.
"No. It's okay, really. It's gonna work." You clasped your hand around his girth, savoring the softness of his skin that you just knew would feel breathtaking inside you. After giving him a few pumps, which led Joel to throw his head back and his lids to slacken, you jutted your hips forward, lining yourself up with the head of his cock.
"It's really beautiful, Joel." Carefully, you nudged the tip against your opening, consciously relaxing your muscles to accommodate him.
"Oh baby," Joel groaned as you took in the first inch of his length, which was causing you light pain that was quickly overshadowed by Joel's gentle swipes over your clit.
"Is that good, angel? Does that help?"
You couldn't help but smile at the nickname and cautiously allowed Joel to feed you more of his dick, softly hissing at the big stretch.
"Yeah, s-s'good, Joel."
God, he really was huge. Once you had taken in roughly half of his shaft, your eyes were in the back of your head, all your intelligent thoughts swept off your brain. You could only pant like a dog, lips agape and tears welling in your eyes at the intrusion or his divine touch on your pussy, you weren't sure.
"Baby," Joel murmured at once, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and tugging you flush against his chest. "Baby, are you okay? We can stop at any time. Just talk to me. Don't want ya to be in pain."
"NoâŚ" you whimpered, legs twitching while you worked more and more of him inside you. "No, I don't wanna stop."
"Can I make it better somehow?" Joel asked with his airy, hoarse voice, his warm puppy eyes boring a hole into your cheek, but as of now, you weren't able to keep your lids open.
"Just â Just hold me. Fuck⌠Fuck, you're so â so big, Joel. Oh my god."
It couldn't be more than an inch left. Part of you knew that it probably would have been wiser to stop Joel and master this process more gracefully by letting him scissor you open more extensively or waiting longer for your pussy to adjust to him, but right now, you just wanted it this way. You wanted to feel him, and you wanted to do it as fast as possible. The pain was still endurable, and you knew that from this point forward, it would only get better. With one last low squeal, you were finally full of him, your cunt tickled by the hair around his base.
"SweetheartâŚ" Joel grunted, his head dropping forward to rest on your shoulder, which gave you the opportunity to mess with his hair and watch his soft strands give way to your fingers.
"Joel," you whined, knees turning to jelly at the way he clutched your waist in his large, calloused hands. Everything about him was so⌠huge and strong. It made you want to feel him with every part of your body, but at the same time this man was so unbelievably adorable that you wanted to hug him like the kind bear that he was.
"You made it, angel, Jesus⌠Fuck⌠You feel perfect, baby, like a fucking dream. ShitâŚ" Joel gritted his teeth, a few more breathy cusses falling from his lips before he raised his eyebrows at your chuckling.
"What is it, honey?"
By now, you were rolling your hips slowly, though you were yet to bounce on him. Besides, he felt much too good to let him slip out of you.
"Is it how you imagined it? After all those years?" you breathed and kissed along the wrinkles upon his brow.
"S'better."
"Better?" you grinned, content with his answer.
"Yeah⌠Much better. Holy shit⌠I'm not gonna last long, sweetpea, m'sorry. I'm sorry, I just â I haven't â done this in so long, I â I'm sorry."
You tenderly yanked at his roots, making him peer up at you.
"S'okay. It's okay, Joel."
His next words made you freeze. "But not inside, right?"
Your hands wandered down to his shoulders, your teeth taking your bottom lip between them while your empty head somehow tried to process his words.
"No, we â no, we shouldn't." You paused, slowly finding your steady rhythm as your hips moved in more generous circles above his core. "Doesn't mean I don't still want it."
Joel exhaled heavily, his left hand groping your breast while his other soothingly stroked up and down your spine.
"Jesus, baby, we can't⌠You know that we can't. Unless you want some mini version of me running around Jackson."
You had to giggle at the pictures the idea created in your brain.
"I bet it would be cute," you murmured, even though you knew that he was speaking with reason. "I want you to cum on my face."
This time, it seemed as though Joel was the one to freeze, his brow creasing and his eyes glimmering darkly. "Christ⌠You want me to cum on your face?"
"Yes," you confirmed and gasped as he started to mirror your motions, thrusting out his hips every time you rocked your pelvis back and forth.
"Are you sure? You sure you want me to ruin your pretty face? That pretty skin."
"Please," you squeaked, brow touching his as you began to gradually lose your composure. This was also what you had been afraid of. Losing control until you wouldn't be able to uphold your body's movement and ask Joel to take over. No, you wanted to finish what you had started. You just had to get a grip on yourself, keep a relatively clear head and continue to shift your hips on top of him. How convenient that he was close already, you thought with the hint of a smile appearing on your face.
"Oh baby⌠You don't know what you're doin' to me, do you?"
You don't know what you're doing to me, Joel Miller, was what you wanted to answer, but all that spilled from your throat was a garbled groan.
"Is it good like that?" you whimpered, slowly bouncing on top of him now as you felt it was time to give him a bit more.
"S'perfect, darlin'. I know you could make me cum just from lookin' so goddamn gorgeous on top of me."
Although you highly doubted that, you smirked proudly at his compliment and picked up the pace a little more. Joel supported you by keeping a firm grip around your hip and guiding you whenever your rhythm faltered.
"Oh christ⌠Give me a kiss, sweetheart, c'mon."
You quickly leaned in and smashed your mouth against his, tongues dancing in a way that didn't resemble your earlier interaction when it had been you sitting in the chair by the table at all. This was sloppy and messy, feral and wild like two animals exploring each other.
Joel pulled away only to slap his palm on his forehead, panting heavily while you dropped to your knees in front of him.
"Oh goshâŚ" he sighed, rubbing his eye sockets, his cock uncontrollably quivering and pulsing in your hand. You stroked him up and down quickly, occasionally dripping your saliva onto the tip to use it as lubrication. After not more than five pumps, Joel's hand flew to his manhood, and he took care of it himself, complying with your demand for him to cum on your face.
He squeezed his shaft a few times, his barely opened eyes on you and his lips parted as one shaky breath after the other left his throat. Then, with a deep snarl, Joel's hips jolted forward, his hand grabbed a fistful of your strands and the next thing you knew ropes of his seed spurted on your face. You closed your lids just in time to avoid feeling the sting of his salty spend burning in your eyes. Most of it landed on your cheeks and chin anyway, but you never could be sure.
"GoddamnitâŚ" Joel breathed and pumped his length a few more times, making sure his balls were completely emptied. Meanwhile, you waited motionlessly, lips a little parted and your hands flat on the floor beside you. When you felt a hand cup your face, you opened your eyes again only to stare back into Joel's misty, brown irises.
"Baby, you â you're perfect. I can't believe you â jesus."
He scratched the back of his head, almost looking like a young boy who was scared of getting caught after he had done something stupid.
"You taste good," you just grinned and temptingly licked over your lips, tasting a trace of his cum on your tongue.
"My godâŚ" His breath still coming out raggedly, Joel dragged you forward by your bicep, making you straighten up in front of him and reaching for a tissue on the coffee table.
"Look at me," he commanded and then wiped off his milky seed gently, being particularly careful around your eyes. "I gotta admit, you look pretty like that. Makes me⌠makes me think really horrible things."
"I can't believe they're that horrible," you smiled mischievously and waited patiently until Joel had cleaned your face. Then, you allowed him to haul you up again. You sat down next to him on the couch, your back leaning against his side while he snaked a tight arm around your torso.
Both of you exhaled in unison, which made you laugh loudly, your heart still racing behind your chest even though you hadn't even cum a second time with him.
"I⌠I didn't expect that," Joel muttered after a while, smelling the scent of your hair.
"What exactly?"
"Well⌠this. When you came to my house this morning. I thought â I mean, I thought it would be a normal guitar lesson. Like every other week."
You nodded slowly, dreamily gazing at the wall across from you.
"Mhm⌠yeah. So did I."
"Y/n?"
You were briefly caught off guard by him using your name rather than one of the pretty nicknames he had come up with for you. Did that mean whatever had just happened between the two of you had come to an end? Was this him trying to get back to normal and showing you that from this moment forward you would become what you had been to him before that⌠incident?
"What?"
"I⌠I was wonderin' if you⌠I would like to see you next week for the guitar lesson of course. Like always. I just⌠I thought maybe you'd like to see me before that."
Your brain worked slowly, your blissful, drowsy state doing nothing for your ability to listen to him. Joel's stammering didn't help either. But then, you finally understood and felt your heart doing somersaults.
"I⌠Yeah. Yes, I think â Yes." You most definitely weren't any better at articulating yourself most clearly.
"Great. I⌠I was thinkin' maybe you'd like to meet in the cafÊ. Just 'cause⌠you know, it might be cold, so we should meet inside. But I was thinkin' that you might also be tired of my place and that boring old living room."
"It's not boring," you protested. "I think cafĂŠ sounds great. So yes. But I also like it here."
You really hoped that he got your implication and that the aftermath of his orgasm didn't cloud his brain like it tended to do yours.
"Yeah?" he grinned and ran his hand up your side.
"YeahâŚ"
"So you wouldn't mind comin' here a 'lil more often? Outside of⌠of the guitar lessons?"
"No. Not at all, Joel."
Feeling more relieved than ever, your muscles slackened. Joy and bliss swamped your veins, making you feel like your head was surrounded by a cloud or halo or something like that. You couldn't think of anything that could make you feel even happier at that moment. If only you knew what was running through Joel's mind right nowâŚ
His thoughts were with the flower bouquet on the cupboard. What if he left Jackson later in the afternoon, found the meadow again with all those winterproof flowers and collected the most gorgeous ones for youâŚ
You would certainly like that.
He would sort them in the most beautiful way and hand the bouquet to you when he saw you next.
Cw: +18, mean!joel, really desperate/needy reader, sub!reader, deep throat, crying, oral m!receiving, degradation, unspecified age gap, cum swallowing, lot's of saliva, slapping, hair pulling/yanking
A/N: today is my birthday, so yall are getting fed!!! It's very short, but yummy and i just couldn't get these pics out of my head, like he looks so huge and dada...sooo enjoy pookies <33
The floorboards are cold under your knees, but you don't care about that right now.
Your eyes are too wide, too wet, too desperate, looking up at him with an unbearable ache between your legs and saliva watering inside your mouth.Â
Joel towers over you, hands planted on his hips, his jaw tight, eyebrows furrowed. He's looking down at you like you're something he scraped off of his boot. Unimpressed. Bordering on disgusted.
And you know it. You know how much he hates you.Â
His jeans strain across his thighs, and thereâright fucking thereâthat thick swell of him, rock hard already, pressing against the denim, swollen in need. Above it, that soft pudge of his belly, that little curve you've pressed your face into a hundred times only when he lets you. Only when he's feeling generous.Â
Your eyes drift to that spot you love so much, picturing his cock already leaking for you.Â
He tsks sharply, the sound cutting through the tense air like a whip.Â
Your gaze snaps back up, but it's already too late. His eyes have gone dark, narrowed down at you with something sharp and cold. Annoyance. Disdain.
"Too god damn desperate," he growls, his voice low and gravelly. "For your own good."
You can't help but nod frantically, your mouth already watering at the thought of him, saliva pooling under your tongue. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need. "I need it. In my mouth."
You lean forwards then, nuzzling against the rigid outline of his erection, inhaling the musky scent of him through the denim, your desperation making your hands twitch at your sides, itching to touch but knowing better than to try.
His hand moves fast.
He grabs a fistful of your hair at the scalp and yanks, wrenching your head back so hard your neck cracks. Your gasp cuts through the quiet.
Then his palm comes against your face.
A slap lands across your cheek with a sharp crack, the sting blooming hot and immediate, leaving your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat.Â
You freeze, eyes wide and pleading, the slap only fueling the fire of your need rather than dousing it. Your cheek burns, but you don't pull away; instead, you stay perfectly still, gazing up at him with utter submission, your body trembling with how badly you crave more.
He holds your gaze for a long, heavy moment.Â
A small "pathetic" leaves his lips.Â
And then, something flickers in his expressionânot softening, never that. But a decision.Â
"Alright," he says, calm. "You want it that bad? Open the zipper. With your mouth. Only your mouth."
You don't hesitate.
You lean in, your lips brushing against the cold metal tab of his jeans zipper. Your tongue darts out, fumbling, clumsy, desperate to please. You catch the tab between your teeth and tug. The teeth of the zipper part slowly, and you work your way down, your jaw aching, drool already starting to slip from the corner of your lips.
Inch by inch, the fabric parts, and then his cock springs free through the open slit in his boxersâthick and heavy, veins bulging along the shaft, the swollen head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum that drools from the tip. It bobs right in front of your face, so close you can feel the heat radiating off it, the salty scent filling your senses.
You drool again; a fat string of saliva that drips from your lower lip and lands on your own thigh. You don't even notice. All you see is him.
"Jesus Christ," Joel mutters, but there's no tenderness in it. Just exasperation. "Look at you. Droolin' like a bitch in heat."
You don't care. You can't care. You're already leaning forward, lips partingâ
His hand clamps onto your hair again, stopping you. The pull hurts on your scalp already.Â
"I ain't done talkin'."
You freeze, a whimper leaving your lips.
"I'm gonna fuck your throat," he says, each word deliberate. "Deep. Slow. And you're not gonna gag. Ya hear me?"
You nod as much as his grip allows, a jerky, desperate motion.
"No gaggin'," he repeats, making sure you understand. "Not a sound. You take it. That's what you're made for."
He doesn't wait for an answer.
He guides the head of his cock right between your lips, and you open for himâgreedy, hungry, your tongue already stretching out to taste him. He pushes past your lips, past your tongue, and keeps going.Â
He's thick. So thick that your jaw aches instantly. You taste every vein, every inch stretched wide around him. He fills your mouth completely, and he keeps pushing, deeper, until his tip nudges the back of your throat.Â
You feel your body already rebelâa reflexive clench, a spasm from the back of your throat. But you force yourself to relax, to open, to take.
And then he's past the barrier, sliding into your throat in one smooth, burning slide.
Your eyes start to water.Â
Tears spill over, falling one by one down your cheeks. Your nose is pressed against the hair at his groin, and the world has narrowed to the taste of him, the stretch of him, the smell and the sound of his breathing.
He holds there. Just for a moment. Just to let you feel it.
"Good girl," he says, and the praise is so unexpected, so incongruous with everything else, that a sob of relief catches in your chest. But he doesn't let you savor it. "Now we're gonna move. Slow. And you're gonna keep that mouth open."
He pulls back, almost all the way out, leaving just the tip resting on your tongue.Â
Then he pushes in again.Â
Slow.Â
All the way in until his fat head drags against your palate, your tongue and then lands against the back of your throat.Â
He sets a rhythm with slow, agonising thrusts that bury him deep, hold for a heartbeat, then retreat. Every time he sinks in, your throat convulses around him, trying to accommodate, and every time he pulls back, you droolâa mess of spit and pre-cum that strings from his cock to your lips.Â
You try to breathe through your nose, keep your jaw unclenched and throat relaxed while tears still spill from your eyes.Â
Joel watches. His eyes are half-lidded, focused entirely on where he disappears into your mouth, and on your tears. His free hand then comes up, and you feel his rough fingers on your throatâright over the place where his cock is sliding in and out.
He presses down lightly, rubbing the skin.
"You can feel it, can't you?" His voice is a low murmur, almost lazy. "Feel me right here, movin' in you."
You can. The sensation is foreign and intimate, his fingers tracing the bulge of his own cock moving inside your throat. It makes you moan, a muffled sound that vibrates around him.
"Quiet," he says, calm, there's no heat in it. Just a reminder.
He keeps going. Slow, Relentless. Making your throat memorise the veins of his cock.Â
Your jaw aches. Your throat burns. Tears and drool mix together, soaking your chin, your neck, the collar of your shirt.Â
But you don't care. You'd stay like this forever, if he'd let you.
He thrusts a little deeper, then. Turning a little harder. His rhythm suddenly changes, becoming more urgent, his hips rocking forward with a rougher snap. You can feel his cock throbbing inside your throat while his breathing thickens, the grip on your hair tightening to the point of pain.
"Fuck," he grunts. "That's what you're only good for. Gonna fill that throat of yours. Gonna pump you so full."
Your eyes roll up, meeting his for a brief moment. He's watching you; gaze dark, possessive, hungry.
Then he groans, a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest and his cock swells against your tongue. He thrusts deep one last time, burying himself to the root, and you feel the hot pulse of his release hitting the back of your throat.
There's a lot. Wave after wave, thick and bitter, flooding your mouth. You swallow instinctively, your throat working around him as he keeps twitching, keeps coming.
He holds you there, pressed against him, until he's empty.Â
Then he pulls out slowly, his cock sliding wet and spent across your tongue, slowly softening.Â
You're a mess.Â
Sobbing and sniffling quietly. Spit and cum and tears all over your face. But you keep your mouth closed, holding everything down.
Joel takes a step back. His hands drop to his sides again. He looks down at you, breathing hard.
"Open," he says.
You do. You part your lips, tilt your head back, showing him the inside of your mouth. Clean. Empty. You swallowed every drop like a Good girl.Â
He looks at you for a long moment. His expression doesn't soften.Â
đđđđ§đđŁđ: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader
đđđ§đŁđđŁđđ¨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni
đđŞđ˘đ˘đđ§đŽ: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.
đź/đ: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!
âHer.â
Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topperâs nodding at and smirks. âBeen there, done that. Pick a different one.â
Topper scoffs, âShe literally moved here last week.âÂ
âAnd?â
âOK⌠What about her?â He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.
âLast weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.âÂ
âJesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??âÂ
Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering thatâs how most people at this college looked at him.Â
Thatâs why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didnât take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddiesâ money. Yeah, they didnât pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes heâd take one of them home.
Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.
âWell, what about that one?âÂ
Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because heâd fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameronâs bedpost meant to every single slut heâd ran through.Â
Except he doesnât. Because Topper is pointing at you. And heâs never seen you before in his life.
You look so out of place, despite the fact youâre with a group of Pogues. And he knows youâre a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. Youâre shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.
âWho is she?â
âAha! You havenât slept with her!â Topper cheers like heâs won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why heâs friends with him.
âWho is she?â He repeats like he hasnât even heard him.
âSheâs the new chick,â Kelce says, âexcept sheâs not exactly new in town.â
âI heard she was home-schooled,â Topper snickers, âThatâs why sheâs fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues donât want her.â
Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. Theyâre not your friends. As Topper said, you donât have any.Â
Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable.Â
He licks his lips.
âHow long?â
âHuh?â
He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, âHow long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?â He nods in your direction.
Topper raises an eyebrow.
âYou canât be serious, man. She looks like she doesnât even know what sex means.â
Kelce laughs, âShe looks like she canât even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.â
Theyâre right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafeâs used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell youâd be harder to crack. But thereâs something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after heâs done having his way with youâ
âHow long?â He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no oneâs ever touched you like that, andâÂ
âA week.âÂ
âMm?â
âA week to fuck her. With proof.âÂ
Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it.Â
âThatâs too easy. What do I get when I do it?â
âIf you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, weâd need proof.â Kelce says.
âYeah, proof,â Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, âPictures.â
Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, âSure.â Heâd taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.
You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby heâs imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets youâre a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably havenât even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that youâre so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.
Heâd have fun ruining you.
***
âYou sure do love reading, donât you?âÂ
Itâs the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.
You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders whoâs told you about him.
âSorry, were you â uh â were you talking to me?â
Rafe smirks, âYes. Who else would I be talking to?â
âOh, uh, Iâm not sureâŚâ
âIt was a rhetorical question.â
âOh, of course,â you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. âI⌠umâŚâÂ
âYou find books more interesting than people?â
âHuh?â
He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, âWhy are you always reading?â
âI donât know, I guess I just like to read,â you shrug.Â
âYou sure do.â He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then heâd spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, youâd sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and heâd suck yourâ
âAre you making fun of me?â
You pose the question so innocentlyâ hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes.Â
âWhat?â
You bite your lip, âIâm sorry, itâs just that Iâm not so good at understanding if someoneâs joking or not. Iâm not⌠uh⌠Iâm not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I canât tell if someoneâs being genuine or if theyâre making fun of me.âÂ
âYou were homeschooled, huh?â Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds.Â
âYes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.â
Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more.Â
âYouâre a shy little thing, arenât you?â He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.
âI⌠I guess. I do want to make friends but itâs pretty overwhelming.â
âIâll be your friend.âÂ
He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if heâs offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive.Â
You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too.Â
âOh, you donât have to, I uhââ
âRafe Cameron?! In the library?!â An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.
Itâs a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe canât be fucked to remember her name but heâs sure heâs hooked up with her. Sheâs one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that heâll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that.Â
âRafe, what are you doing here?â The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.
âWhat do you want?â He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you donât care, but he knows youâre hurt from being ignored, from being treated like youâre invisible.
âNothing. Just wondering what youâre up to.â But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dickâs hard from talking to you. And since you probably donât even know what the word blowjob meansâŚÂ
âGo in there,â he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.
You peek up from your book, âAre you guys gonna go study in there?âÂ
He couldâve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like youâre trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows heâll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, heâd have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right.Â
âYou could call it studying.â
You nod, âOK, well, goodbye then.â You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing.Â
âWhatâs your name, homeschool?âÂ
You tell him.
He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, âWell, Iâll see you soon. Wonât I?â
You give him a puzzled look, but itâs replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if youâve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it.Â
Fuck. He canât wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could.Â
Thatâs what heâs thinking of when heâs got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.
***
Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if youâre deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what youâd say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. Youâd probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.
Youâre alone. As usual.
âHey, homeschool,â he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you donât slow down nor look at him.
âOh, h-hello, Rafe.âÂ
âWhatâre you up to today?âÂ
âNothing, just going to my next lecture.â
He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still donât look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?
âYouâve got time to talk to me, donât you?â He asks, but itâs not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.
âIâm so sorry, I donât want to be lateââ You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but youâre so small and weak that it barely has any effect.Â
âCâmon, homeschool. Thatâs no way to treat your one and only friend.â
Heâs walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. Heâs so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way.Â
âRafe, IâŚâ you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, âMy friends said some thingsâŚâ
âFriends?â You donât have any.
âSome of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and theyâŚâ you sigh, âThey said you were probably just playing a joke on me.â
Fuckinâ jealous pogue bitches.Â
âOh yeah?â
âYes. They said thereâs no way youâd talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And theyâŚâ you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. âThey said some other things⌠about you.âÂ
Of course they fuckinâ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.
He doesnât say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. Youâre too innocent to keep secrets.
âThey said that you⌠that youâre scary sometimes.â
Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue.Â
âThat you⌠that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.â
He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckinâ idiot JJ MaybankâŚ
âThey also said that⌠never mind.â Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.
âTell me.â He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.
âItâs⌠itâs not appropriate.â
âSay it. Now.âÂ
You lower your voice, âThey said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.âÂ
The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this.Â
âHuh. Is that so?â
âY-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to⌠She said that youâŚâ you swallow, biting your lip, âthat youâve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but itâs always a lie and you just end up using them.â
Rafe nods, âHmm.â
âIâm sorry, Rafe, but I donât think we shouldââ
âThatâs funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.â
You blink, âWhat?â
He shrugs, âI didnât think youâd go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.â
âItâs not thatââ
âI mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And Iâve been nothinâ but nice, havenât I?â
Heâs still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but thereâs nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.
âI asked you a question, homeschool.â
âYes, youâve been nothing but nice! Itâs just, I heard all these things, andââ
âAnd you chose to believe them.â He steps back abruptly, âIâll see you around, I guess.â
He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.
âRafe, wait! Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to judge you.â
He stops, allows you to catch up.
âYouâre right, IâŚI shouldnât listen to other people.â
âYou shouldnât.â Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where youâve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: âWhereâs your next class?â
You tell him, âBut you donât have to walk with me or anythingââ
âIâm your friend, homeschool. Thatâs what friends do.â
*
Day 3. Youâre eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafeâs heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesnât see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his fatherâs businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, heâd expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show himâŚ
 âHowâs the bet coming along, Rafe?â Topper asks.
âWait till the end of the week.â Is all Rafe says. He doesnât need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.
âThat means heâs nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.â Kelce chuckles. âNo worries, brother. She looks like sheâs got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.â
He ignores them as they laugh. But theyâre right. Youâre not like the rest of the Pogue girls. Theyâd grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell youâre different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like youâd fit in where he was from.
Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.
âIâll catch you guys later.â He says, making a beeline for you.
âHey,â he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.
âOh, hey Rafe.â You look beyond his shoulder, âYour friends are all leaving.â
âYeah. The waves are good this time of day.â
You gape, âBut donât you have classes?â
He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, âYou gonna tell on us?â
You look aghast, âNo! I would neverââ
âIâm just kidding, homeschool.â
âOh,â you look embarrassed, âSorry. Sometimes Iââ
âCanât tell if someoneâs joking or not,â Rafe completes, âI remember. Iâll be more straight up with you.â
You nod, and he can tell youâre trying to think of something else to say. But youâre too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. Youâve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets youâve done it yourself. Fuckinâ cute.
âYou dress cute.â He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, âYou know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. Itâs cute.â
âThank you.â
âYou do it on purpose?â He canât help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what youâre doing. Knows youâre dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like youâd look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.
âI donât know what you mean by that,â you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool mustâve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. âI wear my momâs old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.â
Heâd had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once theyâd grown out of them.
He nods, âYou look pretty.â
Your breath hitches, and you really donât know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, âI, uh, I have to go. I donât want to be late for my next class.â
He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.
*
On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.
âHey.â He told himself heâd take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he canât help but press into you a little bit. Itâs innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. Itâs how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, youâd cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, heâd pay them off.
Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.
âHello, Rafe.â You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because itâs too much, itâs too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and heâd do all the work, of course. Youâd be too busy crying, and heâd bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. Heâd tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.
âCome for a drive with me? Iâll buy you lunch.â
Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, âI can buy my own lunch!â
He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.
âSorry, I mean⌠thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.â
Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his carâs parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didnât, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.
âWow, Iâve never been on this side of the island before!â You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafeâs never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood heâd grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadnât grown up with easy access to all of that.
âNo?â
âNo, but my brotherâs friend works there, I think.â You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. âHe says the tips are really good.â
Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.
âDo you have a job?â Rafe asks.
You shake your head, âNo. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. Iâd love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my familyâs kind of protective of me.â
âMm?â Heâs deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.
âYeah. Thatâs why I was homeschooled. My momâs scared someoneâs gonna take advantage of me.â You pause, before giggling, âIt took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think sheâs finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.â
The irony isnât lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like youâre a storybook character, like youâre someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. Youâre his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.
âWhat would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?â His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. Youâre wearing jeans, which he doesnât approve of but he decides to give you a pass since itâs windy today.
You donât notice his touch anyways; youâre too busy pondering over his question. But thereâs a glint in your eye, âSh-She wouldnât approve. But thatâs only âcause she doesnât know you.â
The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. âAnd you do?â
You swallow, finally realising heâs got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you donât move. Itâs almost like youâre frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, âUhâŚIâŚWeâre friends, arenât we?â
He smirks, âYeah. Friends.â His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But itâs thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while youâre defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldnât be the first time heâs fucked in public.
Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. Heâd drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And youâd cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because heâd promise heâd be gentle but he knows himself, he knows heâd lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, heâd have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldnât be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.
âRafe?â
âYes?â
âYouâre not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?â
That grabs his attention, âWhy would you think that?â
You shrug, âNo reason. I just⌠Well, you have so many friends. I guess I donât quite understand why youâre hanging out with me.â
âI like you.â He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, âDo you like me?â
âH-Huh?â
âYou heard me, homeschool.â And yet he knows youâre distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. Itâs his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.
âI, uh, y-yeââ Youâre having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if itâs out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.
âI didnât quite get that.â He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. âSay it again.â
Itâs an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.
âYes,â you whisper, as if itâs something scandalous, âY-Yes, I like you.â
He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.
âLetâs get something to eat. Iâm starving.â
He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but heâd sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.
âToss me one,â he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.
âWow, that was cool!â
âCâmere, youâve got a little somethingâŚâ He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. âMessy girl.â
Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you canât breathe.
He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie youâve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like youâre in a daze, however, and he wonders if youâre wet from him wiping your face clean.
âI-uh-we should head back please, if thatâs okay?â you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. âI donât want to miss my afternoon class.â
He grins, âYou a teacherâs pet?â
That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.
He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, itâs insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like itâs begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.
He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didnât even realise how much youâd teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy youâd been when youâd admitted that you liked himâŚ
He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And heâd be thinking of you the whole time.
*
On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.
âHave your little friends been talking more shit about me?â
You flinch. He canât help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and heâs noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.
âNo, I havenât really spoken to them in a while.â
Rafe grins, âYeah?â
âYes. Iâve been busy with schoolwork.â
He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.
âYouâre not too busy to text me, right?â
You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices youâve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckinâ baby.
âText you? I donât reallyâ I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.â
But he knows youâll text him. They always did. You werenât any different.
âWhat are you smiling at?â Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.
Immediately, he straightens his face, âNothing man.â
âYou falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?â
He snorts, âYou wish. I have standards.â
âYou sure about that?â
He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, âYou want me to repeat myself?â
Rafe doesnât miss the flicker of fear in Kelceâs eyes. Theyâd never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesnât care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They werenât like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.
All the girls heâd been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how theyâd swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, heâd fucked a girl who just wouldnât stop shaking. Sure, heâd showed her his gun right before heâd bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.
You werenât scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But heâd kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didnât have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, youâd give it to him, like the good little girl you were. NaĂŻve, innocent little girl.
*
Rafe: Hey.
Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?
He finds himself smiling at his screen. Thereâs a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldnât care less. Itâs the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesnât give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.
Rafe didnât want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.
Rafe: What are you up to?
A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that youâre making him wait. What a fuckinâ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if youâre doing it on purpose. No, not you. Youâre too innocent.
Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?
Itâs insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls whoâd easily spread their legs for a line or two.
He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you donât immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still donât pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldnât do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still havenât picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.
âH-Hello?â
âHi,â he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. âTook your time to pick up, huh?â
âYeah, sorry about that,â you say hastily, âI got distracted.â
He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesnât know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?
âThe lights went out, so I had to go reset them,â you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.
âY-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,â you say, âIs everything okay?â
âWhy wouldnât it be okay?â He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. âTell me what you were doing.â
A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, âI told you, I just finished cleaning.â
âWhat like vacuuming and shit?â
âYes.â
Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. Heâd fucked Wheezieâs babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe thatâs where Rafeâs kink for them started.
He could imagine you working for him â heâd make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldnât question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except youâd be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldnât last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldnât have to because youâd be his hired help, his property. Heâd have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldnât stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.
âUh, Rafe?â
âI wanted to talk to you,â he says.
A pause.
âReally?â You clear your throat, âWhere are you? I can hear music.â
âShit, yeah. Like, thereâs a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.â
âOh.â He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets youâre thinking about it, thinking how itâs just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And youâd never be one of them. Youâd never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when sheâd transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.
He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself youâre just part of a stupid bet.
âIâd rather speak to you than them.â
 âThatâs not true, Rafe.â
âI like how you say my name.â Heâs palming his dick now, knowing heâs treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if heâs not careful. But fuck being careful. Heâs never really been careful before in his life. He hasnât had to be. âAnâ Iâm serious. I told you, I like you.â
âRafe, I⌠I just canât shake the feeling thatââ
âThat what?â He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesnât know if itâs the drugs or if itâs really just the sound of your voice thatâs got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if youâve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.
âThat youâre just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think Iâm this weird, homeschooled freak.â You laugh, but he can tell you donât find it funny, âItâs just hard to believe that youâd want to be my friend.â
âThey think Iâm a freak too,â he says, being honest for once. âOnly difference is they donât talk shit about me because they know Iâd kill them.â
âYouâre funny, Rafe.â
Youâre too innocent to realise heâs not kidding. Not in the least.
âAnd if anyone says anything about you, Iâll kill them too. Iâm serious.â Fuck, he feels like his dickâs gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. Thatâs all heâs done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobodyâs ever fucking appreciated him for it.
âWell, thank you, Rafe. Iâve never had anyone stick up for me like that.â
He likes how you keep saying his name now that heâs told you he likes it when you say it. Means youâd be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then heâd spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.
âA-Are you still there?â
âShit, yeah. Yeah, I am.â His dickâs red and painfully hard, and heâs still trying to pump it steadily but now heâs imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but youâd take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, andâ
âCould you, uh, fuck, say my name again,â he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.
âRafe?â
He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, youâd listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.
âIf youâre busy, itâs okay and you can go,â you say softly.
âNo, waitâŚâ he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He canât believe you hadnât caught on to him jacking off. âI wanted to ask you something.â
âYes?â
âDo you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?â
âLike, uh, at your house?â
âYeah.â He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.
âI donât know, Iâve never been to a guyâs house before.â
That just makes him even more determined to be your first.
âCâmon, itâll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and Iâll drive you home afterwards.â
âRafeâŚâ
He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.
âLook, weâll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. Itâll be fun. And itâs what friends do.â
That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows youâve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafeâs not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesnât care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. Heâs best when heâs on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like heâs your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and youâd appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.
âSay yes,â he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.
âO-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. Iâd love to come.â
*
âWhat do you mean youâre not coming?â Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, âYou were supposed to bring the, you knowâŚâ
Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why heâs friends with a fucking loser who canât even say the word coke. Thatâs why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.
âI have plans.â Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldnât wait to get you into his house.
âWhat plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.â Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.
âIâm not helping you with shit, man.â He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that heâd help him. Heâd been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didnât exactly count. âLook, sheâll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass canât provide shit for her. Then sheâll come crawling back.â
Topper shakes his head, âNo, Sarahâs not materialistic like that.â
Rafe smirks, âYou donât know her.â
âWell, speaking of broke, howâs it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.â
âDo you have brain damage, Topper?â
âWhat?â
Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, âI seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.â
âWell, yeah, but ââ
âSo why the fuck,â he hits the locker lightly behind Topperâs head, âare you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?â
âChill, dude. Itâs just,â he looks hesitant, scared as heâs barely able to make eye contact, âItâs okay if you like her, you know?â
Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he canât quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topperâs mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.
He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, âYou think Iâm gonna slum it like that?â
Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadnât had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, âI mean, itâs not exactly a secret what your type is.â
Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. Thatâs when Rafe slams him against the locker again.
âGet it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but Iâd never date one. Got that?â
âYes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.â Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, âDo whatever the fuck you want.â
Thatâs when Rafe starts laughing again. âI will, pussy.â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.
He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. Heâd quit going once heâd realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.
Thatâs what heâs doing when you arrive.
âHey, Rafe. Iâm sorry Iâm late. The professor held me back.â
âWhy?â He barks out before he can contain himself. Heâs already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and youâre too innocent to even realise it.
You blink, âHe really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!â
âThatâs great,â Rafe plasters a smile on his face but heâs only half listening, âLetâs go.â
He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldnât be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like heâd said to Topper, heâd never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his⌠well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesnât really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.
âYou look cute,â he says once heâs got you outside and thereâs more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress heâs ever seen. Itâs this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and youâve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like youâve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.
âThanks,â you look down as if youâre embarrassed, like you donât know how to take a compliment, âItâs my momâs dress.â
âItâs really pretty,â he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.
He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what youâre wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.
You donât say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. Thatâs how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didnât mind her too much.
âWait here,â he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And itâs fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.
Now, he doesnât think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. Youâre distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafeâs never thought twice about. But he reckons itâs a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.
Finally, you exhale slowly, âThis is⌠uh⌠wow. I canât believe thereâs people in this world who live like this.â
Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, âYeah. Do you want a drink?â
He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, âI can climb on myself, you know.â
âYeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.â
He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like youâre nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.
âWhatâs your usual drink of choice?â He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.
You blink, âUm, water?â
He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, âYouâre a good girl, huh?â
âI tried some of my momâs wine once but it tasted horrible,â you shrug, âI donât know why people like it so much.â
âTry this.â He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, âItâs sweet like you.â
You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He canât help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.
âYouâre not as bad as people say you are,â you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.
âPeople have been talking about me to you?â
âNo, itâs just the stuff Iâve heard. Like what I told you before. But it canât be true, because youâre so nice to me so it just doesnât add up.â
He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew heâd beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.
âDo you always drink after school?â
âHuh?â
âLike, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?â
âNo.â He lies. âOnly sometimes.â
He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if youâve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if itâs just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.
Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you donât make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.
âTell me more about you,â he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. âYou ever had a boyfriend or anything?â
Your eyes widen, âNo. I, uh, you donât tend to meet any guys when youâre homeschooled.â Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. âWhat aboutâŚwhat about you? Have you had any girlfriends?â
He shrugs, âA few.â
You nod, âOf course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyoneâs as far behind in life as I am.â
âYouâre not far behind.â He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.
âI am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences youâre supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.â You sigh, âSometimes I feel like Iâm so far behind that Iâll never catch up.â
Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell youâre acutely aware of what heâs doing. You donât make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.
âThereâs still plenty of time to catch up,â he says softly, âI can help you.â
You smile up at him, holding up your drink, âYou already have. Iâd never drank with friends before now.â
âCongratulations,â he says, clinking his glass with yours, âTo one of many firsts.â
He downs his drink and so do you, and heâs quick to get a refill for both of you. Heâs guessing youâre a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.
âIâm capping you after this one,â he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.
You giggle, âAre you gonna cap yourself too?â
âNo.â He chucks you under the chin again, âBut, see, Iâm not a baby.â
âHey!â
He kisses you. And shit, he hadnât planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, heâs caught himself off-guard. But he couldnât help it. Couldnât help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and youâre so pliant underneath him, and heâs kissed a shit ton of girls but itâs never felt like this.
You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.
âIâm sorry,â Rafe says, although heâs not, âIâve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.â
Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. âIâve never, uh, Iâve never kissed anyone before.â
âWell, itâs easy. I could show you.â
You swallow, âI donât want this to be like, a pity thing.â
Rafe exhales slowly, âYouâre here in front of me in this tiny fuckinâ dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?â
Your jaw drops, âHey, itâs not tiny!â
He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he shouldâve asked permission since itâs, well, your first kiss. But frankly heâs never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasnât about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldnât have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didnât want him to make a move on you.
Again, you pull away, âRafe, Iâ donât⌠I donât know how to kiss, Iâm sorryââ
He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But heâs already pushing his luck right now.
âIâll teach you,â he says, âBut you need to do exactly what I say, okay?â
He canât believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.
He taps his leg, âGet on my lap.â
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, âWh-What?â
Rafe smirks, âDidnât you just agree to do exactly what I say?â
Heâs surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, heâd have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew heâd done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all youâd be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.
âI did, Iâm sorry, but I donâtââ
Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now heâs acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties youâre wearing, and if youâd let him lookâŚ
âThere. Comfy?â
âWell, I guess, butâŚâ
He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so heâs able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And youâre so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesnât mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and itâs getting him so hard, knowing heâs the first man youâve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.
He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you donât.
And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. Youâre sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you donât even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.
When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how heâs kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.
âWow, that wasâŚâ you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, âI donât have anything to compare it to, but that was good!â
Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, âYeah? You like kissing me?â
âIâŚum⌠yeah I do,â you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, âCould we uh, could we try again? Could I try?â
Well, shit. Heâs never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how youâve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.
Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like itâs some kind of fairytale for you and youâre the little princess kissing her prince charming. Itâs part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.
He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then heâs kissing you back, because he doesnât have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. Thereâs an animal inside of him and youâve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.
And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.
âGood girl,â he mutters when you donât move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. âGonna let me touch you a little bit?â
âRafe, maybe not too muchââ
âCâmon, princess, you have to touch while youâre making out, right? Thatâs lesson number two.â He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. Thatâs when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. Youâre too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckinâ soft and pliable, just like how heâd imagined.
âNice ass,â he murmurs against your lips, and thatâs what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesnât immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how itâs your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.
âIâm sorry,â you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, âI just⌠I got overwhelmed.â
He blinks, and heâs this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didnât give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and heâd been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.
Instead, he forces a smile, âYouâre a pretty good kisser for someone who claims sheâs never done it before.â
You beam, relaxing immediately, âOh, youâre just saying that. I bet I was really bad.â
âMy memoryâs kinda foggy, I think youâre gonna have to remind me,â he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.
It doesnât go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. Heâs about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.
Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.
âYou should come over again,â he says when heâs done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit â opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often heâs tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after heâs done hooking up with them.
âThat sounds nice,â you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driverâs seat, âAnd I told you; you donât have to drive me all the way home. I couldâve just got the bus.â
He blinks. He didnât realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he canât have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and youâd be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and werenât allowed to wear in public, tell you how you werenât allowed to speak to any men except him. And you werenât allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, andâ
âNo buses,â he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, âAnyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.â
He feels you go rigid, âTh-The pool?â
He glances at you, âYeah. Itâll be fun.â
You laugh nervously, âUh, Iâm not too great with water. I donât really swim or anything.â
Rafe has to do a double-take, âYou realise you live on an island?â
Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. Itâs just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesnât even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.
âI know how to swim, I just donât like water,â you say, and thereâs something off about your tone. Something he canât pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesnât push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.
Itâs only when heâs pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.
âLook, Rafe, youâre my friend now. And I donât really like keeping secrets from you. Iâm sorry I was so quiet just now.â
Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.
âThatâs okay,â he says.
You take a deep breath, âI used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. ButâŚâ
Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched youâd share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He canât help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like youâre trying not to cry. And Rafeâs never had the patience for emotional chicks, but itâs different with you.
You force out a little laugh, âI donât want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough andâŚâ You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, âAnd⌠Well, I was fine but⌠my dadâŚâ
Shaking your head, you donât say anymore. You donât have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. Heâs never been in a situation like this before, and heâs not sure how to act.
Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, âIt happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But Iâve been scared of the water ever since.â
He nods, âItâs just you and your mom now?â
âYes. And my brothers. But theyâre always working, so itâs just me and her. Thatâs why sheâs so protective of me⌠I, uh, I donât have a dad anymore.â
Rafe knows what itâs like to lose a parent, but he canât fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadnât. He couldnât. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.
Heâs never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad youâre not sobbing your eyes out right now, because heâs not sure how heâd handle that. So heâs happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.
âIâm not sure why I told you that, Iâve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.â
What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didnât speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasnât sure how to act.
âI feel comfortable around you too,â he says carefully. Heâs never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises youâre shaking. And thereâs a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.
Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.
You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mindâs too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees youâve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.
Jesus Christ, whyâd you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadnât done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet heâd made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished heâd picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.
Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything heâs just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. Heâd figure out the rest later.
*
Kelce: One day left, loverboy.
Topper: Canât wait to see the pictures.
Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. Heâd goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesnât really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that optionâs not really available right now.
Instead, he searches blindly for the coke heâs stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, heâd promised himself heâd cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didnât count. Not really.
He wonders what youâd think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldnât because heâd keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, heâd keep you separate from all the partying. And heâd never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe heâd become better for you, maybe heâd go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.
That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.
Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldnât allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.
How? He wasnât too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldnât come to his house again like how heâd planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like theyâd taken on a life of their own.
The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isnât you right now makes him sick.
He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldnât physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, andâ
His phone vibrates. Itâs you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. Youâve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.
âRafe?â You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.
âHey,â he says, trying to sound nonchalant, âWhatâs up?â
âIâm sorry I called you, I just⌠How are you?â
He raises an eyebrow, âIâm fine. You wanna talk?â
âHey, calm down.â Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, âWhatâs wrong, princess?â
âIâm scared.â
You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesnât quite get what youâre saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.
âWhat happened? Did someone hurt you?â
âNo, no. Oh, Rafe, itâs the storm. It keeps getting worse.â
He chuckles in relief that you werenât in any immediate danger, âWell, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?â
âI hate it,â you whimper softly, âand Iâm sorry I called. But my momâs stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So itâs just me, and, andâŚâ
âHey, calm down. Itâs okay, youâll be okay.â Heâs never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. âAs long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.â
âThe lights are gonna go off any second,â you sniffle, âThey always do when the weather gets bad.â
They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.
âGimme twenty minutes. Iâll come over.â
âNo!â You say quickly, âRafe, itâs too dangerous.â
He snorts. Heâd been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. âI think Iâll be okay, princess.â
âB-But weâre not allowed out. Youâll get a fine.â
Rafe canât count on one hand how many times heâd been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.
âStay put. Iâll see you soon.â
Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they werenât built well enough to withstand the storm.
âRafe! You came!â
You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And youâre so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.
âYeah. Roads were empty. Didnât take long.â He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. Youâd fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds heâd buy for you. And youâd be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.
At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. Thatâs when he notices that youâre crying.
âHey, itâs okay. Câmere.â He pulls you into another hug, and heâs never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. âYouâre safe now, Iâm here.â
It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like youâre his little baby, like heâs been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And youâre too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.
âMaybe we should head back to mine.â He suggests, but you whimper again.
âNo, no, we canât go out there. Itâs not safe. Rafe, please.â
He doesnât think heâs ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after heâd showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course heâd brought it with him, he wasnât going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.
âOkay, okay. Weâll stay here. Whenâs your mom coming home?â
âNot till tomorrow once the stormâs died down.â
He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.
Youâre still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why youâd take him straight there, but he guesses itâs your safe place. And youâve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.
Despite everything, his dick hardens.
âYouâre a really good friend, Rafe.â You say honestly, âNobody else wouldâve come over like this.â
He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. Itâs not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But youâre preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.
âI wouldnât do it for anyone else.â
You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you canât quite believe what heâs said, âI-Iâm not special, Rafe, Iââ
Youâre cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe wouldâve laughed. But itâs you, and so he just watches. Itâs fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like heâs your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.
He pulls you into his lap, knowing you wonât protest. Not in the state youâre in. Youâre wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like youâre a fucking tease except he knows youâre none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.
Heâs so turned on, it feels like he might explode.
âIâm sorry,â you apologise for the umpteenth time, âItâs just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?â
âIt probably will,â he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. âThey were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything weâve ever seen before.â
âNoooo,â you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.
âItâs okay,â he says, running his hand up and down your back, âYou ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?â
You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, âNothing works, Rafe.â
He smirks, âI could distract you.â
âH-How?â
He runs his thumb over your lips. Theyâre wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.
âSuck.â He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like heâll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like heâs your daddy.
âGood girl,â he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. âNow listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?â
You nod slowly, almost like youâre entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but itâs hot to see you agree so easily to whatever heâs saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.
âThatâs good,â he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like youâd gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. âGive me a kiss.â
âH-Huhââ
âDo it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, donât you?â
You nod, âYeah, but will that really work? I meanââ
Itâs like God himself is on Rafeâs side because thereâs a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But thereâs a desperation to it, and Rafeâs returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.
He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. Heâs never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state youâre in, he could get you to do anything.
Rafeâs hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.
âRafe, Rafe no stop.â You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. âCouldnât we just⌠just kiss?â
He presses his lips together in a thin line, âYou trust me?â
âOf course, I just donât know if I want toââ
âLook, didnât I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.â
Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, âNo, donât!â
He smirks, âI wonât leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the stormâs just gonna get worse.â He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, âHey, câmon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?â
âY-You.â
âYeah. And whoâs older?â
âYou are.â
âThatâs right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know whatâs best for you. Thatâs why you called me over, right?â
You donât say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you donât protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. Youâre not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.
Your nipples are hard, and he canât help but cup your breasts. Theyâre so tender, so soft just like you. Heâd imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst heâd jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no oneâs ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.
Heâs overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably donât even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.
He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.
âTh-That hurts,â you say pitifully.
âYeah, but you like it, donât you?â He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.
âRafe, I, that⌠oh⌠oh myââ
âStand up, baby.â
You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. Itâs from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.
You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that youâre still barely eye level with him even when heâs sat down.
âTake your leggings off.â
You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and youâre quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.
You push your leggings down and step out of them, till youâre standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger heâs never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if youâre a piece of meat and heâs a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.
âTurn around,â Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. âGod, youâve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.â
âWh-What?â
âYou heard me. Youâre always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.â He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesnât really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.
âI wasnât!â You say indignantly, as if heâs accused you of the absolute worst. âI wasnât showing off, Rafe!â
âSure you werenât,â he snorts, âNow bend over, lemme see it better.â
He canât believe it when you donât hesitate this time, almost like youâre seeking his approval. Like youâre under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.
âStand up straight, look at me again.â
You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like youâre a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.
âIâm gonna take your panties off now, okay?â He doesnât know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. Thereâs a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how heâs making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and itâs battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that heâs not a good guy, that heâs taking advantage of you.
Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like youâre scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.
And then youâre completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And heâs still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and itâs driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way heâs never really experiences before.
His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till youâre sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.
âItâs time for lesson number three, baby,â Rafe murmurs softly, âthis is how Iâm gonna distract you, okay? Shit, Iâm gonna make you feel so good, youâll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?â
You swallow, âH-How, Rafe?â
God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.
âIâm gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?â
âDown there?â You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?
Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. Youâre leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and itâs all because heâs merely touched you there.
Youâve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and itâs like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.
âYou have an accident, princess?â
You look absolutely aghast, âNo!â
Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he canât wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.
âOh my Godââ
He looks up, âNot God, baby. Just me.â Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, âAnd thereâs another thing Iâm going to need you to do.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?â
For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, âWhat? But Rafe, youâre not myââ
âYour daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, donât you?â He smiles when you donât immediately respond, âThatâs why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how youâve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isnât that right?â
He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But itâs like youâre in a trance, and he keeps going, âYou want someone to take control, to reassure you that everythingâs gonna be okay. Thatâs why youâve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.â
He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that youâre shaking under his touch. And you look like youâre about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.
âI can be your new daddy, princess. Youâre gonna let me, arenât you?â
Rafe doesnât wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as theyâll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. Youâre watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like youâre frozen in time and space, and heâs the only constant.
Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest heâs ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but youâre louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.
âTell daddy to lick your cunt,â he orders, his voice deeper and lower than itâs ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, âsay it, or else Iâll stop everything.â
âL-Lick it, please,â you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesnât let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, âP-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.â
Rafe couldâve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till itâs shining with your wetness.
âMessy little girl,â he mutters, âexcited, arenât you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?â he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till youâre a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because youâre a goddamned virgin who doesnât know how to act because youâre feeling so good.
Rafeâs practically making out with your pussy, and heâs never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. Itâs how responsive you are, itâs how this is all so new to you so you donât even know nor care to hold anything back. Youâre rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good heâs making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.
âItâsâŚItâs too much, Rafe!â you cry out, and yet youâre rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like heâs starved.
âYou can take it,â his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. Itâll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know youâre taken. Fuck, heâd get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, andâ
You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you donât even know whatâs happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because youâve probably never felt like this before.
And Rafe doesnât stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roofâs about to blow off. You donât give a fuck though, and he doesnât either.
âOh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, itâs too much!â
Now, youâre trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows itâs too much for you, but heâs too fucking turned on to stop.
âCâmon, baby. Donât be like that. Lemme give you another one.â
âNo, I-I canât, I, oh fuck!â
He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. Youâre out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.
âYou like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?â
Youâre such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if heâs said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, âTell me you like it.â
âI, uh, I like it, uh⌠daddy, oh gosh!â
It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckholeâs so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesnât stop him. Heâs got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world heâs ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.
He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till youâre lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, heâs on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.
But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like youâve grown used to doing.
âR-Rafe, that was⌠wow.â You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that heâs moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that heâs planning how heâll do it in his head this very moment. âI never⌠I never thought it could feel that good.â
Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesnât have a name for it; he canât even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.
âWhat do you even know about sex, baby?â He breathes, his face so close to yours.
âOh, well, uh⌠Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just⌠I didnât know you could call someone daâ that.â
He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, âYou mean daddy?â
You look embarrassed, âYeah.â
âI need you to keep calling me that, okay?â Rafe says gently, âItâs completely normal and I told you Iâd take care of you from now on. You want that, donât you?â
Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.
He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. Youâre getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that itâs all because of him.
âYou ready for the next lesson, baby?â He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that youâre naked beneath him and so willingly too.
You swallow harshly, âI donât think Iâm readyâOh!â
He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.
âTake it out.â
âN-No!â
He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. âBaby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?â
âI-I know but⌠but Iâm scared.â
âItâs okay to be scared,â he says, âbut you need to do this, alright? Didnât I make you feel good just now?â
âWell, yes, butââ
âSo just trust me. Iâll make you feel good again, okay baby?â He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, âYouâve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....â
You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, âR-Really?â
He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, âYes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didnât you?â
As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, âCall me daddy again, princess.â
You donât even fucking hesitate, âd-daddy, Iââ
âTake daddyâs cock out, baby. Itâll distract you, I promise.â
You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He canât help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.
âShit, gimme your hand,â he murmurs, and he doesnât wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. âStroke it.â
You pull back, âI donât know how, I donâtââ
âDo it or Iâll leave right the fuck now.â
 In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And itâs so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.
âThatâs so good, baby. Youâre so good.â
âI am?â
âShit, yeah, just keep doing that. Youâre such a good girl for me, arenât you?â He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He canât help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and itâs insane because heâs never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.
âYou ever seen a cock before this, princess?â He asks crudely between kisses.
Your eyes widen, âN-No, Rafeâ I mean, uh, daddy.â
âNo? Good girl. Thatâs so fuckinâ hot.â He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.
âItâs, uh, itâs so big,â you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesnât catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.
âYeah?â
Shyly, you duck your head, âYeah, daddy.â
God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldnât take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know whatâs coming.
Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafeâs never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.
âAww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.â He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and youâre all messy. âTell me, whatâs got her so wet?â
âI donât know.â
SMACK.
Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when itâs so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, âAnswer the question.â
âYou,â you breathe, blinking up at him, âYou, daddy.â
âYeah? I get your pussy wet?â Heâs working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesnât know why he doesnât just shove it in there. âTell me why.â
You moan pleadingly, âR-Rafe, please!â
âWhen I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,â he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times youâd teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.
You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.
âI, uh, I like how big you are,â you stutter slowly, âyou-youâre a lot bigger than me.â
He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.
âI like how strong you are,â youâre looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because youâre too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. âYou make me feel safe, daddy.â
Rafe pauses, and itâs there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesnât understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobodyâs ever felt safe with him before. Everyoneâs always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didnât trust him. No oneâs ever looked at him how youâre looking at him and it makes him feel things heâs never felt before.
But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.
âTightest pussy I ever had,â he mutters, âbut sheâll take daddyâs dick, wonât she?â
Itâs more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till itâs finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussyâs so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how heâd possibly fit his big dick inside you.
âSo full,â you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because thatâs all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you canât even help it.
âGonna add another one, okay baby?â
âW-Wonât fit, daddy.â
âShh, yes it will. Daddyâs gonna make it fit.â
Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon heâs got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and heâs so fucking turned on. More than heâs ever been in his whole life.
âHowâs that feel, baby?â He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, youâre so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if heâs drawn blood already.
âH-Hurts,â you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. âR-Rafe please slow down.â
âCome on, donât tell me to slow down,â he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like youâre swallowing them up whole every time, âNot when youâre drippinâ all over your sheets like a littleââ
âBut it hurts!â
âThatâs okay, itâs supposed to hurt,â he explains slowly, like youâre dumb, âitâs because youâve never done this before, so thatâs why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?â
A lone tear meanders down your cheek, âI-I donât think itâs gonna fit, Rafe.â
âI made âem fit, didnât I?â
âNooo, youâre, uh, I mean yourâŚâ You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your bodyâs starting to betray you.
Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, âYou already thinkinâ about my cock, sweetheart? How itâs gonna feel when itâs up your virgin cunt?â
You shake your head vehemently, but youâre a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. âRafe, no. Your f-fingers, theyâre already too much, I donât think I can takeâŚâ
âDidnât I just tell you Iâd make it fit?â
You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly âY-Youâre too big, I-I donât think I can handle anymoreâŚOh fuck!â
He knows heâs hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan heâs ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that heâs sure youâve broken through his skin.
âThatâs right, baby girl. Just fuckinâ take it,â he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. âFuck, youâre so good, baby. Taking your daddyâs fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing âem up like a greedy little slut. Didnât think youâd turn out to be so fuckinâ slutty, baby.â
You clench around him, moaning his name and he canât believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because youâre so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.
âToo much, too much, oh, oh, oh,â youâre half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.
âTake it,â Rafe repeats, âbet itâs never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone elseâs asleep?â
You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.
âMmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommyâs asleep,â he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, âbut itâs never enough, is it? Your fingers arenât as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.â He laughs, âthis whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.â
âN-Need you!â You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, âI need you, daddy. I-IâŚOh fuck, please! Please, I donât⌠I just⌠Iââ
You squirt all over his hand. And itâs insane; Rafeâs never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.
âGood girl,â he strokes your head like youâre his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and youâre so hot when you automatically suck on them. âSuch a good girl, baby. That was so fuckinâ sexy.â
All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. Youâre at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.
It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.
Rafeâs cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows heâs big, but compared to your tiny frame, heâs massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.
âListen to me,â he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, âYou like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?â
The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like youâre his little pet. âSay it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. Câmon, baby, look at your pussy, sheâs crying for it. Beg me.â
He knows youâre at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.
Thatâs when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.
âR-Rafe, please, I donât thinkââ
âShh, câmon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,â Rafe urges softly against your lips, âgonna make you feel so good again, mhm?â
âNoooâŚâ
He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.
âShit, just relax,â he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yetâŚ
He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but heâs just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesnât even make a difference, and yetâŚ
âRafe, I⌠pleaseâŚâ
âBabyâŚâ
His dick feels like itâs going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. Itâs a heady mix, and he doesnât know what to do, andâ
âPlease, Rafe. Iâm not ready, I-I canât, Rafe. PleaseâŚâ
âFuck.â
Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesnât know if heâll ever understand. All he knows is he canât, he fucking canât. Youâre so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just canât bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.
He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like itâs mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And thereâs another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.
âHey, hey, itâs okay,â Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, âHey, look, donât worry about it. Itâs okay.â
âI-I thought I could butâŚâ you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows heâs never seen anything so beautiful. âIâm sorry, I thought I could do it, I thoughtââ
âItâs okay,â he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, âDonât cry, okay? Shit, itâs okay, baby. Itâs okay.â
âY-Youâre not mad?â
He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. Itâs insane, because he doesnât feel like himself, because heâs never felt this before. Itâs alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.
âNo,â he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, âNo, Iâm not mad.â
âYou pr-promise?â
âI promise.â
He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesnât recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like itâs just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.
You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesnât even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.
The wind laughs and laughs all night.
*
The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.
Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. Itâs clean, and youâve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact itâs smaller than his closet back home.
Rafe canât believe heâs woken up on this side of the island.
He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.
Rafe: Hey. I thought Iâd leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didnât want to wake you. Talk to you later.
He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when heâd had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then heâd pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.
What the fuck did that mean?
His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because youâd so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and youâd wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.
Thatâs what he shouldâve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?
Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. Youâd all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.
Rafe feels like heâs having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.
Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact youâre asleep and none the wiser to whatâs happening. But this was the least you could do, youâd left him hanging last night. After heâd been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?
âYou make me feel safe, daddy.â
Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.
*
âThere he is! The loverboy himself!â
His friends gather around him the next morning like heâs the second coming of Christ himself.
âHow was she, Rafe?â one of them slaps him on the back, âThat is, if you fucked her.â
âYeah.â Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. âDid you fuck her?â
Rafe scoffs, âIs that even a question.â
Heâd waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, heâd waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didnât. Staring at the pictures heâd taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before heâd thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: Iâm so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.
He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.
âPictures or it didnât happen,â Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topperâs eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because theyâd never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. Heâd make sure of that.
âIt did happen.â Rafe says calmly, âLike I said it would.â
âOkay well, thatâs great brother but weâre gonna need proof.â One of the clowns pipes up.
âYou donât need shit,â He shoots back.
âYou didnât take pictures?â Topper asks.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. âI did.â
âThen show us. That was the deal.â
He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores heâd fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.
âLook. I donât give a shit if you donât believe me.â He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. Theyâd forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.
âCâmon man, you canât bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,â Kelceâs eyes glint when it registers, âOr youâve gone soft for her. Youâveââ
Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like heâs been electrocuted. âListen, you fucking moron. Donât ever insinuate Iâve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.â
He spits that last word out like itâs venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelceâs shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way heâs grown used to people looking at him.
âI fucked her,â Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like heâs slipped on a mask, âI fucked her just like Iâve fucked every other Pogue bitch whoâs thrown herself at me before her. And it wasnât anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.â
He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.
And immediately locks eyes with you.
And then it feels like itâs just him and you. And nobody else is there. And thereâs no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.
âOh shit,â Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe canât hear them. No, heâs frozen, staring at you as if he canât quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.
A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but itâs like heâs frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.
Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe canât quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesnât understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he canât breathe.
And he just stands there and watches until youâre gone.
đź/đ: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)
Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?
Should reader forgive Rafe?
Favourite scene/part?
Anyways, that's it. Now I'll anxiously wait to see what you guys think. PLEASE PLEASE consider reblogging this fic if you plan on liking it and want me to continue it. Thanks so much for all your support when I posted the sneak peek. I hope this lived up to your expectations! <3
âŽâË . bsf!rafe keeps 'accidentally' slipping inside after promising to just rub against you.
warnings â 18+ MDNI. bestfriend!reader x bsf!rafe pairing. name is self explanatory. manipulative tone & fake apologies.
cherieâs note â loosely based on this p!link.
your knees are bent, thighs open for him, trembling slightly from how real this feels â arms curled near your chest, lip caught anxiously between your teeth, breathing too fast for someone who's supposedly not having sex.
things had always been⌠complicated with you and rafe. secrets whispered in the dark, your body tucked into his bed more often than your own. heâd even taught you how to kiss â unforgivable, in hindsight. because now, whatever this was⌠it felt like the point of no return.
rafe kneels between your legs, stroking himself in slow, lazy pulls. deliberately. "just relax," he murmurs, voice low like he's talking you through something innocent. like this was something every best friend did â and you could definitely be convinced of such when it was him doing the talking. "i'm not gonna put it in. i told you."
he presses the head against your slit, sliding it up your folds, gathering the wetness along the underside of his throbbing cock. the squelch that bounces off the walls is unmistakable, a clear indicator of just how much you wanted this, despite the way your pulse raced. you jump at the first pass and he smiles â quick, hidden, gone before you even get the chance to look at him.
"how're you this worked up already?" he teases under his breath, more to himself than to you. "barely even touching you."
you squirm underneath him, embarrassed. "you're... rubbing on me..."
"mhm." he drags the swollen head down again, circling your entrance with soft precision â though his mind is anything but soft. not with you, sprawled out beneath him, eyes wide like a prey caught in a trap. his trap.
you gasp, a soft sound that shoots up his spine â and that's when he lets the tip catch you. not fully. just enough to make your body pull him in that tiny, helpless way you can't control. the thick head of his cock breaches the tightness of your cunt, and your thighs tremble slightly from the pressure.
"sorry," he breaths, pretending to pull back. "didn't meanâ you're so warm, and wet. hard to aim."
you believe him immediately, like you always do, nodding. your cheeks burn, "it's okay. just... just be careful."
"i am," he promises, thumb stroking the soft skin of your knee. "i got you."
except he keeps doing it. that same slow glide, catching on you again, the head pushing just barely inside before he rocks back like it's truly accidental. each time, you make this soft, strangled sound that goes straight to his cock.
"you okay?" he murmurs.
you nod quickly, swallowing away at the nerves. "it just feels... weird."
"good weird?"
you nod again â and the way you do it, wide-eyed and trusting, makes him exhale shakily.
he strokes himself harder, a little faster, hips following the rhythm. the spongy tip of his cock keeps bumping and sliding against your slit with every pass, the feeling so dizzying you swear you could see stars. your slick coats his hand, helping the slick grip glide effortlessly against himself â makes everything sloppy and hot and impossible for him to 'aim'.
rafe swears he can lose himself in the sight of you alone. swears he'd give anything to see this everyday â you, eyes glassy and blinking slow, completely fucked-out and trembling under his guidance. so vulnerable. so trusting. pliant, too â keeping your thighs perched open enough to allow him the space he demands, without having to be asked.
you force a tiny breath out, shaky and full of shame, and he rewards you by rolling the head down again. and this time, when it catches, it sinks just a little deeper than before. enough to make your eyes fly fully open. enough to make your hips lift before you can stop yourself, telling him everything he needs to know.
he freezes. not really. just enough to pretend he's surprised.
"shit," he mutters, voice going hoarse. "thatâthat was deeper than i meant. m'sorry, baby."
and despite his apology, he stays there a beat too long â buried millimeters inside of your warm heat, throbbing. he pulls out slowly, letting a slick string stretch between where heâd previously pushed inside of you.
your heart jumps into your throat, "it's okay, ray," you whisper quickly, like you don't want him to feel bad. "was just an accident, right?"
â in which Joel miller takes a liking to you and has to have you no matter what.
cw : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !! You have been warned , Joelâs in his 50s and reader is in her 20s , kidnapping , reader develops Stockholm Syndrome , mean Joel , Joel hunts you through the forest , daddy kink , dad kink , punishments , spanking , dubcon (?) , oral (r!receiving) , unprotected p in v sex , breeding kink , mentions of getting you pregnant , reader becomes dependent on Joel , Joelâs just an icky old man (I want him) , MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
WC : 3k
A/n : I got carried away ⌠anyway I need him to kidnap me and care for me hello !!
You worked at a small coffee shop in the city. It wasnât much, but it was enough to help you get by, being able to pay rent and some other necessities. In all honesty, you grew to really like the place; the owners were a sweet old couple who were like your parents. You had great coworkers, and overall it was nice.Â
About a week ago you met Joel, a man in his 50s, who definitely has years of experience and all under his belt. He was a man with a rough exterior, but he was a softie. Joel revealed to you that he comes into the city rarely, having a house and property in the outskirts of the city. Overall Joel was super nice, and sure, he may be way older than you, but he was a nice friend.Â
You would soon regret that decision.Â
The clock hit 10pm, and you finally clocked out, ready to leave the damn place for the night. After grabbing your belongings, you lock up the shop and make your way home. Walking alone at this hour was never the smartest idea, but having no car and no bus here meant you didnât have a choice. You pray to whatever is up there to keep a watchful eye over you.Â
The sound of a truck slowing down beside you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see what the hell is up. There he was, Joel Miller. What was he doing here? He stops beside you and rolls his window down.Â
âYou need a ride home, darlin? It's not safe for you this late alone.â He has a point, but a part of you feels like you should decline and walk. Ultimately you decide to accept the offer and give him your address. The car ride is spent in comfortable silence, the car radio plays a random song, and you relax.Â
After 15 minutes you start to get a bit anxious, usually the cat ride to your place would only be 10 minutes, but itâs been longer than that. Maybe he forgot the address? No, it canât be. This isnât even the way to your place, itâs a gravel road leading out of the city. Shit.
âJ-Joel? Where are we going?â You try to stay as calm as you can, not wanting to think of anything too bad yet. Maybe he forgot you were in the car with him? He doesnât answer and just keeps on driving. You slowly reach over to the car handle just to realize there is nothing there. Shit, shit, no, no.Â
"Joel, stop the car! Please stop!â He does stop the car, and you feel relieved, but it doesnât last long. You barely have time to process what he has before you feel a sting in your neck and everything starts to go black. The last thing you hear is Joelâs voice.Â
âFinally got you, doll.â
When you were younger, stranger danger was drilled into your head. That man whoâs looking for his âdogâ isnât actually, and if he were, he wouldnât be asking an 8-year-old girl. Never accept anything from a stranger, never accept candy from them. Never ever get into an enclosed space with one. You truly felt like the dumbest person ever, but technically Joel wasnât a stranger, right?Â
You groan as the bright fluorescent lights hit your eyes, your head is heavy and neck hurts so fucking bad. Taking a look at your surroundings, itâs very obvious that you are not at work or at home, but in a basement. It had white walls and was furnished with a small bed in the corner, a dresser, a night lamp, and a chair in the corner.Â
As you stand up to find a way out, you feel a heavy, cold weight on your ankle, looking down, you discover itâs a shackle attached to a chain that is bolted into the ground. You assume that the chain is not long enough to reach the stairs and the door out. Fuck, this is the worst thing that couldâve happened to you.Â
âHELLO!? HELP ME PLEASE!?â With no other options, you scream for help, after a couple of minutes the door opens and he walks down the stairs. Joel fucking Miller, you look at him in nothing but disgust and betrayal. You trusted him and treated him with kindness just for him to do this to you? He stands a good 6 feet away from you, arms crossed over his chest.Â
âI see youâre awake now.â The statement pisses you off further, you feel more anger than fear in this situation. There is nothing more you want to do right now than punch his fuckass face.Â
"Wow, good thing your fucking eyes still work.â
âWatch your tone, little girl.â His gaze darkens, and it felt as if the room had gotten colder. What the hell is his issue? His boots drag on the ground as he steps closer to you, which causes you to take a step back and him to step closer. This goes on until your back hits the wall and Joel cages you in with his arms. You raise your knee wanting to hit him where the sun doesnât shine, but heâs quicker than you and catches your knee, pushing it down harshly.
âNow you listen here, doll. Thereâs a very strict set of rules you will have no choice but to follow, there will be a punishment and reward system. The more good points mean that you get to leave this basement and live with me up there, the more punishments mean that you stay here longer. Your choice.â His eyes are dark, staring into your soul.
âW-what no? This is insane, Joel. Just let me go. I swear I wonât tell anyone or go to the cops Iââ You donât register what just happened, but your cheek is stinging and feels hot, he just slapped you. Joel slapped you.
âStarting today you will obey me no matter what, and do not think of escaping because I swear I will punish you so bad youâd wish you were dead. There are cameras everywhere. Understood?â Joelâs hand was squeezing your cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout, you nod. He was scaring you badly, you just wanted to curl up and cry. Letting go of your face, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, it disgusts you so bad.Â
âGood girl. All your belongings are in that dresser. I got them all before getting you, and the chain is only long enough to walk around in here, not on the stairs. Now you go and get some sleep, baby.â With that, he walks away, leaving you alone and scared. Getting in bed under the covers, you think about how much you hated Joel Miller.Â
The next month goes by terribly, you keep fighting Joel on literally everything. The punishments he gives are humiliating as hell, making you kneel on beads in the corner for hours, or spanking you so hard that you feel it for days. As you sit on the bed you realize that you have to gain Joel's trust somehow and get out of this basement to make your escape plan, and so with a clear goal in mind you slowly start to change up your behavior around him,playing into the good little girl persona he had wanted you to be in.Â
You sat in Joel's lap, a deep hatred burning inside of you. He's reading a book while you think about how you'd make sure his ass got life in jail for the fucked-up shit he's done to you. The stupid chain on your ankle stares back at you, mocking you for being so fucking stupid for ever trusting Joel. He closes his book and puts his glasses away before looking down at you.Â
âYou know I was thinking it's finally time for you to start living upstairs with me. What do you think, baby?âÂ
Finally! Yes! "You've been working towards this for a while now, and it's finally happening," you squeal in his lap.Â
âYes, Daddy! You try not to cringe as you say that word, 'daddy.' He'd told you to call him that, and you refused to, fighting him on it every day, but you needed to gain his trust, so you reluctantly used it. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss his cheek, this is the best news ever.
âAlright baby, let's get this chain off and then we can head up.â Sliding off his lap, you stand in front of him waiting. He pulls a key out of his pocket and lifts your leg onto his thigh, where he finally takes the damn thing off.Â
After it's off, you practically drag Joel upstairs with you. He just chuckles and follows you up and unlocks the door and you finally see his home. His living room is just as you expected, shades of brown everywhere, cozy couch by a fireplace. There's a guitar in the corner, you remember he said that he plays sometimes. Then you see the front door, of course there's 3 locks on it to prevent any escapes.
Under different circumstances you'd love his home. It was cozy and sweet, but this is not a good circumstance whatsoever.
You feel his arm snake around your waist, âis it to your liking sweet girl?â his breath fans your neck, once again reminded of the man who took you away from everything.Â
âI love it, Daddy, it's so you!â He gives you a tour of the kitchen and then takes you upstairs, where he shows you his room. A big comfy bed, with a chair in the corner. You hate to admit it, but it's so cozy.
Taking a seat on his big chair, you try to get comfortable, but his gaze is on you, too intense, like he knows something.Â
âSo what's your plan now, little girl?â Fuck what? Does he know? How you never let anything slip.Â
âW-what are you talking about, Daddy?"Â
âCut the shit. You think I haven't noticed? How did you just change up completely? How did you become obedient? I knew what this was about, so now you're really going to get it. You want to escape, I'll give you just that.â What? What does he mean by that? Is he finally letting you go?
"Here's the deal: you find a way off of my property without me catching you, and I'll let you go, but if I catch you, it's going to get ugly, and you stay with me. Deal?âÂ
Without hesitation you nod, "Deal."
You stood outside for the first time in 2 months, it felt amazing, the fresh air and the wind on your skin. The weather was gloomy, clouds covering the sky. Joel stood beside you, he failed to mention that it would be a hunt and that he would use his actual rifle, his fucking rifle.Â
âAlright doll, I'm counting to 50, and then you better pray you can get away from me."Â
âOkay.â He starts counting down and you bolt into the forest, you were scared. Joel knew these woods better than you, obviously, and thatâs what made you more nervous. You run until you canât feel your legs anymore. You have to find a way out, youâre terrified of what Joel will do if he gets you.Â
Thereâs a small clearing in the distance. You head in that direction, hopefully trespassers have left an escape there. You're very aware of your surroundings, everything gets too quiet, though, as you reach the end of the clearing. Thatâs when you hear his voice in the distance, not far away. Shit! You decide to run from that place and find another way; as you run, you donât look back once, needing to focus on whatâs in front of you.
All of a sudden an arm hooks around your waist and a rifle is pressed against your back. You try your hardest to get out of his grip, but heâs way stronger than you. His arm moves up to your neck, where he now has you in a chokehold. Your arms try to pull him off, but again itâs useless.Â
"Gotcha, bunny. Youâre mine now, and we are going to have so much fun now.â Tears run down your face, no this canât be happening now. You were supposed to go home, you wanted to be back home in your shitty apartment eating shitty fast food and watching a stupid romcom. He throws you over his shoulder and heads back to his house, you feel hopeless, everything just hitting you at once.
Once inside, he locks all the doors once again and brings you up to the bedroom, where he throws you on the bed. You donât react, feeling numb and hopeless. You think of life and all the things you didnât do because you prioritized other pointless things, wishing youâd done them. You donât have family and no friends, so no one knows where you are. Work is probably going to assume you quit and hire someone new, and your landlord probably thinks you moved out. No one knew you were missing. No one was coming to save you.Â
âTake your pants and panties off and bend over my knee.â Joel sits in his chair watching as you take off your pants and panties, with wobbly legs, you bend over his knee. You canât bring yourself to care about anything.Â
â35 spanks with my belt. You will count and say thank you after each one. You are to call me sir or daddy. Understood?â
âI understand, sir.âÂ
With a satisfied hum, his belt lands the first hit on your ass, you hiss and quickly remember to count.Â
âOne. Thank you, sir.âÂ
Another one lands, and it hurts more now. A tear slips from your eye.
âT-two. Thank you, sir.âÂ
You feel disgusted, hurt, hopeless, and numb. Would you ever escape Joel? Or is it better to just accept this? Him? The hits keep coming as Joel keeps taunting and mocking you. How naive could you be? Why would an old man want to be friends with someone in their 20s? You donât know how much time has passed, but by the time you hit 30 spanks, you were a mess, tears and snot running down your face. Your ass was probably bruised as hell and cut in places, and you knew sitting would be torturous.Â
âS-sir pâ please I c-canât.â Youâre sobbing at this point, hoping that Joel would have some mercy and stop, but this is Joel, a mean old man who is probably enjoying this more than he should.Â
âMhm no doll, ya got 5 more. You can take itâ the next hot comes down and you feel that will to fight for your freedom leave you. This was humiliating, degrading, maybe giving into Joel was the easier choice. By the last spank you were done for, needing comfort needing to be held.Â
âT-thirty f-five. Thank you daddy! Please Mâsorry mâsorry no more- please!â Joelâs hand rubs your ass in a soothing way, he picks you up and lays you down on tummy and you sob harder into the covers. After a couple of minutes he comes back and sits down by you.Â
âItâs all over babygirl, you did so well for daddy. Shush now. Iâm going to apply this cream on your bum now itâll sting but itâs gonna soothe it, Kay?â You can only nod and he puts the lotion onto his hands rubbing it so itâs not too cold and starts massaging your bottom. It stings like hell but he was right it got better after that. Youâre in a floaty headspace, like everything is so hazy and Joel is the only one you want and can even think of.Â
After heâs done with taking care of you, he takes his shirt off getting into bed and leaning against the headboard. Then he carefully brings you into his lap making sure to avoid putting too much pressure on your ass, and tucks your head into his chest. You immediately put your head into his neck. Joel smiles knowing heâs finally got you where he wanted.Â
âDaddyâs so proud of you for taking that babydoll, so proud.â Heâs kissing your head as you whimper into his neck.Â
âDaddy⌠daddy Mâsorry didnât mean to runâ maybe a part of you wanted this, thatâs why you didnât fight it. Even thinking about leaving him felt too difficult.Â
âI know baby I know. Just needed your daddy to remind you where you belong.â You belong with him, here in the middle of nowhere where you can do whatever together. Joel looks down and you and presses his lips to yours, you kiss him right back, it gets messy and heated fast. Shuffling in his lap until both your legs are straddling his waist, your hands on his chest. his wrapped around your waist.Â
Pulling away from the kiss with a String saliva that is connected to your lips, Joel wastes no time taking your shirt off leaving you exposed in front of him. Your nipples harden as the cold air hits them and Joel takes one into his mouth. Arching your back and tangling your hand into his hair. âShit daddy please.â His other hand plays with the other nipple. He stops sucking on it and moves back up to kiss you, switching your position so you are now under him.Â
âYouâre perfect doll, so perfect for daddy.âÂ
You lay bare in front of him, Joel takes his pants off leaving him in black boxers where you can see the obvious print of his dick. Fuck heâs thick. His fingers trail down to your wet slit and he pushes a thick finger in. You let out a little gasp arching your back, fuck his finger is so thick.Â
âShit baby youâre so tight, need to stretch this pretty pussy out before I can put my cock in her.â His words were filthy, but it got you wetter and wetter. He continues to work his magic, thrusting in and out of your tight hole. After a minute he adds a second finger and then a third, youâre moaning like a bitch I heat and grasping the sheets as he continues to split you open, his thumb connects with your clit and he starts to rub, shit You feel a heat pool in your tummy. Youâre close and Joel can feel it as well.Â
âGonna cum all over my fingers baby? Yeah gonn cum all over daddy? Come on, be a good girl and let go.â Thatâs all it took for you to spill all over him, youâre panting as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. He stops and sucks his fingers clean.Â
âTaste amazing doll.â He takes of his boxers and his dick hits his tummy, fuck heâs big. âIs that even gonna fit daddy?âÂ
âDonât worry doll Iâll make it fit.â With that he lines himself up with your hole and pushes in slowly, you wince at the stretch, Joel knows youâre a virgin so he wants to take it slow. âHalfway in baby. Youâre doing so well for me.â He kisses the tears off your face and pushes himself in fully, you let out a little scream and he kisses your lips letting you adjust.
After a minute you feel so full and you need him to move, âsir please moveâÂ
Thatâs all it takes for him to start thrusting in and out of you, heâs big and you can feel him stretching you out so good. You swear you can feel his dick in your throat, heâs panting and groaning into your ear like a dog.
âPussy so good for sir and itâs all fucking mine, you belong to me doll.â All you can do is let out a breathless moan, all you can think of is Joel.
âSo fucked out you canât talk baby? Sâokay daddyâll do all the thinking for ya. You just be my pretty little fuck doll.â Whining you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, his beard tickles your cheek but you donât care, wrapping your legs around his waist needing him deeper in your guts. One of his hands comes down on your clit rubbing in circles, your back arches off the bed a you feel his cock hit your cervix.
âDaddy!! Please please!âÂ
âPlease what baby? Huh? Gonna cum for your dad?â You feel yourself clench at that, fuck youâre fucking filthy for liking this.
âP-please dad need to cum!âÂ
âYeah gonna cum all over this cock baby? Shit Iâm close too. Gonna fill you up with my seed, give you a baby. Youâll be mine forever that way.â Shit that pushes you over the edge and you feel yourself cumming all over his cock, you feel Joel painting your insides a couple seconds after.
He fucked you through it and pulls out watching his cum drip out of you, scooping it up and fucking it back into your hole.
âNeed to make sure it sticks, baby.â Domestic life with Joel sounded so good, being his good little housewife. Making sure the house was clean, and that dinner was on the table. Him fucking you and getting you pregnant. You wanted to be that for him.Â
âGonna make such a pretty housewife for daddy, doll.â
And you wouldnât have it any other way, old life already forgotten.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Summary: You and Joel Miller have known each other for ten years, have been together for nine, and married for six. You live together on a peaceful ranch outside of Jackson, your life peaceful and free- but maybe, in this freedom, it's time to consider expanding the Miller name.
Pairing: Joel Miller (The Last of Us) x fem!wife!reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected piv, breeding kink, creampie, bit of fingering, dirty talk, marriage kink?, joel is down bad, pregnancy mentions, sweet moments, reader and joel growing old and grey together on a ranch, small undefined age gap, #bushnation, no description of reader aside from female anatomy
A/N: sorry about the disappearance... trying to get myself back into the groove of writing regularly, but life has just been real busy lately. not my best work, but at least it's a little something. enjoy, and thanks to anyone who reads! <33 dividers by @/andromeda-graphics
Masterlist
Time is greying like the strands of hair on your scalp that are beginning to mirror the salt of your husbands.
It passes swiftly, faster than you ever could have imagined after the world fell into calamitous despair. It festers and drips away like the sweep of hay in a hurricane, and yet, still; peace follows, light and gentle.
You and Joel have been together for nearly nine years now. He proposed six ago, dropping down to one knee that wasnât as creaky as it is now by the front porch of your house. It was in the bloom of Spring, unprompted, when you were both still living in Jackson.
Eventually, you both moved outside the gates, towards open land. Despite being vast, itâs still patrolled regularly by the both of you and occasionally Dina and Ellie when they find the time to ship off from young JJ. Sometimes, Tommy assists Joel whilst you and Maria chatter mindlessly, exchanging stories of how quickly Benji seems to be growing, and how the rest of the town seems to be expanding just as rapidly. And in return, you bake Tommy and Maria a pie with fresh, handpicked blueberries from the bush that sits delicately in your front yard, or youâll clean the guns they keep on their person, or Joel will mend some sheep wool onto their jackets to keep them warm and solemn for the upcoming winters.
You and Joel regularly patrol your land together.
He had taught you to ride upon your arrival to Jackson ten years ago now.
Both atop your horse, perfecting how to settle on the saddle and direct the reins, and also in his bed, large hands curled over your waist, aiding you in the desperate rock of your hips as you bounce up and down in his lap.
Back in Jackson, everyone always asks you whatâs so great about living away from those you love. What could be so great in having to travel a far distance to even just trade with your peers?
And the answer is exactly that. Youâre far away from everyone, except for the only one who truly matters. With just the two of you, itâs so quiet. Which means that thereâs no one to disturb you, and no one for you to disturb.
âThaâs it, darling. Keep ridinâ my cock.. just like that,â Joel rumbles from beneath you, his head tilted back in bliss, jaw slackened, mouth open with ragged pants.
His fingers dig deep into the soft flesh of your hips, enough that bruises in the shape of your large, towering husband will remain painted across your skin by morning. Heâs getting older; his skin growing rougher, the crows feet by his eyes forming in deeper crevices, the lines on his face growing weary. He would never admit it, but you know heâs conscious about it, no matter how many times you assure him that you adore the new signs of his aging; it tells you that heâs living. Life and freedom carving out roadmaps along his body that you like to trace with your fingers and tongue.
Besides, youâre also getting up in age. Your stamina isnât the same as it used to be, and sometimes your knee pops when youâre dismounting the saddle of your horse.
Joel always complains and snarks back that his back aches constantly, which often leads you to opting to ride him, so all he has to do is sit there, legs splayed, grip tight on your hips and pupils dilated as he watches his wife rise up and down over the thickness of his slickened cock.
âShit.. so good, baby,â he groans, his brows pinching together, unable to shield the extent of the pleasure you always provide him willingly and eagerly. His fingers are still smeared with grime from the day, his temple and chest cast over with a thin layer of sweat after his day out in the fields, caring for the crops and your flock of sheep.
He huffs, jaw flexing, âAlways know exactly what I need, donâtâcha?â
You whimper softly, gyrating your hips just right, circling them, grinding down so your needy, puffy clit rubs against his pelvis, the coarse, greying hairs of his pubes brushing along your own delicate curls. Your sweaty chest drags against his, your hardened, sensitive nipples pressed to his collarbone, drawing ragged gasps out of your kiss-swollen lips.
âSo pretty like this,â he praises dutifully, his blown-out pupils travelling over you swiftly, like he doesnât know where to look first, where to settle his gaze, determined to swallow down all of you.
Heâs raptured, and youâre stuck aside him in the same tide. You have been for years, since you met him on the trail to Jackson; what started as a vicious meeting of pointed weapons divulging into a careful, gentle introduction to something softer. Something neither of you were particularly experienced in, but longed for.
It became a devotion that neither of you ever recovered from. And you never wish to.
You drop your head down towards his shoulder, heavy breaths cast over his slick skin, his own warm pants swimming over your neck. You whine, rutting your hips down into him with increasing desperation, that knot in your pelvis pulling tighter, tighter, until itâs almost unbearable, your thighs tensing and releasing in anticipation.
âFuck.. can feel you tighteninâ around me, honey,â Joel growls, his large hand sliding beneath your hair and cupping you over the nape of your neck. You part your mouth against his shoulder, needing a distraction against your blurry mind, your tongue lathering over his sun-kissed skin, preening into his body. You feel his hips jerk beneath you, a groan tearing from his throat like he just canât control his noises anymore with you.
âOkay, aâright, sweetheart,â he sighs in a coo, almost to himself, his other hand splaying comfortably over your lower spine. Then with a grunt of effort, heâs lifting you from his lap, his soaked cock slipping from you with a wet sound, followed by your reluctant whimper.
âShh.. itâs okay. Let me,â he assures, maneuvering you around onto your back, pawing your thighs open again, his calloused fingers so gentle on your tender skin. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your flushed cheek, his voice a low hum, âBeen doinâ all the work for me, baby. Know youâre tired- let me.â
You yield instantaneously, your body slackening for his hold as he lifts your legs to delicately wrap them around his waist, his body bending down towards yours until his soft belly presses to yours. You love the weight of him on you- firm, a solace you can only find in him. A comforting warmth washes through you, settling into your veins, soothing your sore limbs.
Perhaps this is redemption. Relief and succour in the form of this hulking, gruff man, who has never been anything but consoling- carving your body to his, linking the thump of your heartbeats from that first patrol he led you on out of Jackson.
You had felt naive then. Younger, disheartened by the world. Joel helped in ensuring that small, miniscule glimmer of hope that still remained was highlighted for not just you to witness, but for everyone to make a spectacle of.
Surprising, everyone said; for a man of his stature, to bring out such a light.
His breath comes in short pants now as he curls his large hand around the base of his cock, guiding himself back towards her eager, weeping entrance. You both sound a simultaneous noise of bliss as he sinks back inside your soaked cunt, wrapping around him like the band of silver and diamond around your ring finger.
He watches as your head tilts back towards the fluffy pillows lining the arm of the couch, before heâs reeling his hips back, and slamming back into you. No matter how many times you take him- he still splits your body in half each time, especially in such a position where it feels as though heâs engraving his name- your shared name- into your cervix with each thrust.
âFuck, Joel-â you gasp out, rounded eyes snapping down again to watch where his pelvis rocks towards yours, his stomach rubbing over you, his cock sliding in and out of your drenched pussy. He hums in concurrence, but cuts off your shaky moan by dipping himself down and capturing your lips in a fervent, messy kiss. Ragged pants mingling as your tongues tangle and your teeth bump, his hands pawing at your sides, grinding you up into his length.
âI know, baby. So good- doinâ so good for me,â he purrs, his teeth catching at your bottom lip before he chases his tongue with yours again, his groan reverberating through you in a pulsing echo of need and arousal.
âYou gonna let me fill you up, baby?â he asks in a pant, one thick arm sliding down until his hand splays over your pelvis, applying pressure there. He can feel the indent of his hard, pulsing cock through the flesh there, rounded with the size of him. He huffs in effort, a bead of sweat drooling from his temple, his hips rocking faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin budding through your living room space.
âGonna- gonna let me drip out of you?â he continues in a haphazard ramble, his jaw loose, his eyes glazed over with lust. You gasp, your chest arching up towards him as his cock stabs at somewhere particularly deep inside you, hands lifting to curl tightly over his shoulders.
âOr maybe I should stay inside. Keep.. shit- keep you plugged up,â he suggests next, his thrusts stuttering briefly at the thought, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of your pelvis, palm hot and heavy against your flushed skin.
Your lips part in a pleasured âOâ at the idea, and heâs quick to notice the way your eyes glaze over, the way your cunt flutters and hugs his cock like you never want him to leave. And God, heâd satisfy that wish.
âYeah? You want that, sweetheart? Wanna be full of me, let it stick?â he tutters, his brows pinching with ecstasy, his thrusts turning into deep, firm grinds, his cock nudging up against your sensitive, gummy walls. His calloused hand brushes down over your stomach, âGet your belly all rounded with me. With my baby.â
You and Joel have discussed the idea of becoming parents before, but there had never been the right time to commit to it. For years, you had been running from haunted memories and the threatening jaws of the dangers that lurk in your worlds- but now, out here, itâs different. Each year, those memories break away from their chains, drowned out by the slow, but steady rise of peace. Contentment.
Your eyes roll their way back into your skull, your pussy clamping down around him as a shiver strikes up along the base of your spine. He moans haggardly, cock twitching against your g-spot, his grinds accompanied by the wet squelches of your needy, hungry pussy.
âShe likes that⌠the idea of being full aâme,â Joel comments with a heady, dark chuckle, his gaze planted on the gorgeous way your cunt wraps around his cock, the skin glistening with your arousal each time he tilts his waist back. âCan feel her tightening around me, thinkinâ about being fucked full of my come.â
âGonna make you all mine.. make sure every part of you belongs to only me,â he promises, leaning down, his warm chest pressing flush to yours, his breath disappearing in hot waves against your flushed neck. His mouth drags over your clambering pulse, climbing higher with the forceful hammering of his thrusts.
âYes-â you moan out raggedly, head nodding haphazardly.
âCome on, baby. Gonna be both Mrs. Miller and a mother,â he groans by your ear, his cock twitching violently inside you. His hand raises, lifting your shoulder up to pin your hand against the arm of the couch. His left hand ties with yours, the shimmering evidence of your binding affection wrapped around both of your ring fingers, the silver bumping together.
His other arm hooks down and underneath your ass, heaving you up. You yelp softly at the change in angle, his cock lodging impossibly deeper inside your belly. He canât seem to help himself, grinding himself down into you, his pelvis rubbing over your swollen bundle of nerves.
âSorry, honey,â he huffs under his breath, but he doesnât seem very apologetic as he reels his hips back again to slam forcefully into your cunt which squelches and welcomes him in like youâre starving for it. He squeezes at your hand clasped with his, bottom lip pursed in concentration as he winds both of you closer and closer to that promising edge of bliss.
He kisses down and over your jaw, wet and loving, his stubble scratching deliciously over your pliable flesh. The living room filled with the cacophony of your shared noises and the wet sound of skin smacking, existing in just this quiet little ranch between the both of you.
âFuck, mâclose,â he warns, lips mouthing over your pulse. You whine, your hips bucking up to haphazardly meet his thrusts, which turn increasingly frantic, chasing his pleasure whilst simultaneously driving you towards yours.
âGonna fill you up⌠fuck you full of my baby,â he gruffs out, forehead wrinkled downwards with determination, ignoring the aching twinge in his back, sweat plastering his hair to his skin. âLet everyone know youâre mine- fuck, honey-â
He lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours, heady breaths mingling in the space between you. Youâre delirious on bliss, your head foggy, unable to voice anything tangible, so you stick with just moaning along to the symphony of his promises whisking through your blurry, lust-fueled mind.
âGonna make me a husband and a daddy, huh?â He purrs, the question settling like a rock on your pelvis, churning around that knot that has pulled itself tight in your belly. Itâs this final sentiment that sends it crumbling, ecstasy pulsing through your stomach.
Your chest arches upwards with a choked gasp, cunt fluttering violently around his cock through ragged cries, your juices following in a gush. His balls become soaked with your essence swiftly, smacking against your ass as he groans like heâs in pain, rutting into your quivering pussy.
âShit, shit- thatâs it, baby. Come all over my cock- feels so fucking good. Gonna pump you full of me, gonna give you a baby- I promise, gonna make it stick-â Joel rambles out, lost in a haze of pleasure and a primal, raw need to consume you entirely.
A beat later, he follows you over the edge, plummeting into the depths of his own rapture. His shoulder blades roll as his head drops down into the crook of your neck again, breathing you in with shaky gasps and moans as his cock pulses streams of thick, warm come inside you. You can feel it gushing through your sensitive, gummy walls, your belly bulging gently with the heft of his seed settling inside you.
The comedown is a shared combination of exhaustion and tenderness; slow, amorous kisses passing through you in the syncing movement of swollen, needy lips. Chasing after each other to litter the other with kisses over their skin.
Joel mutters careful, sensitive praises against your cheek that fall hushed on your blurry mind, still floating somewhere above yourself. He pulls his softening cock out of you, and you can hear the faint, disapproving tutter of his tongue as dribbles of his come follow him from your fluttering pussy.
A pitched whine slips from your lips as he uses two thick fingers to collect the smooth whiteness and push it back inside your throbbing cunt. Easing it back inside, curling his come against your hypersensitive walls.
âShh, baby, I know. I know, but we need to keep it all in there, yeah?â Joel croons, hovering over you, placing reassuring kisses over your chest, along your collarbone, between the valley of your breasts.
âGotta make sure it sticks,â he adds as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. Your vision spins around you, lips parted with gentle mewls and whines, which he muffles by swallowing them with his own mouth. His tongue chasing after yours, soothing you until your eyes are being coaxed to shut, the shadows of your lashes dispersing.
Coerced into a succoured state by your husband, who continues easing his come-slick fingers in and out of your used, puffy pussy.
The wood crackles under the forceful, swinging weight of the axe, crackling into splintered pieces.
Joelâs chest heaves with a breath of exertion, a droplet of sweat rolling its way down his temple. His red flannel is bunched up to his elbows, his jeans hanging low on his hips, accompanied by the hefty buckle of his belt, a light blue teatowel hitched into the loops that he can use to wipe away the condensation painted across his forehead.
A stray, dark curl hoops and sticks to his skin, his forearms flexing as he throws the wood pieces into the evergrowing pile of firewood. He sways the axeâs blade down into the edge of the uprooted log, etching it there to rest, whilst his attention lifts to you.
Sitting on the porch chair, on the seat he had carved and structured himself. You have a warm mug of tea cupped in your palms, your fingers flexing carefully around the rim as you watch him. You arenât discreet about it- dilated eyes ogling him from a distance, watching the way his back arches and his neck strains each time he stretches to slice another piece of wood down the middle.
Heâs so effective, your husband. In all ways possible. So competent, in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together, knowing the slick gathering between them isnât just sweat from friction and the heated summer sun beating down against your tender flesh.
His warm, mahogany eyes meet yours, and you can physically see the way he softens. Like despite his exhaustion, all of it peels away with just a glance at your radiating company. His shoulders sag like an anvil has been lifted from them, his boots crunching heavily through the mixture of dirt and grass as he sludges towards you.
Footfalls landing promptly over the wood of the porch stairs that he climbs to you, pausing by your side. You tilt your head, squinting against the peeking sun that slides past his towering silhouette. From here, he could almost be considered threatening.
But then he leans down, his lips ghosting over your cheek, and heâs placing a chaste kiss against the flushed skin.
âHey, baby,â he mutters, voice a low whisk of warmth. His hand shifts downwards, brushing down over your belly- which is rounded, large and plump. Occasionally twitching with the beats of life the baby gleefully kicks, as though they can sense their father hovering nearby. You can hear the gentle chuckle tsking off Joelâs talented tongue.
âEager today, huh?â He teases, a grin stuck to his tone. You grin lopsidedly, leaning into his touch, the tea in your mug sloshing lightly. âBet she knows her daddy is near.â
You hum softly, your eyelashes fluttering as you draw out your own soft, content laugh. Joel is convinced that your baby will be a girl- a gut instinct, he says. But he also says heâll be pleased no matter what; this is your creation, a burning life formed into a bundle of vigorous light only you both get to hold in your palms.
âNothing will change that,â he mutters to you each night.
âHere. You stay here, finish your tea. Iâll go start dinner,â he assures before you can inflict protest on your sore limbs. He presses another quick kiss to your head, before heâs straightening with a stifled groan, and padding back inside.
The screen door closes gently behind him, before the sounds of the nearing afternoon settle into the air. Crisp, simple, a harmonious buzz of insects and chirp of distant birds, a light translucent fog covering the distant flow of winding valleys. And if you listen close enough, you can still hear Joelâs voice, mumbling away inside the house, drifting through your mind.
You can always hear him- the soothing roll of his voice swimming in your veins constantly, overflowing you with affection. A tenderness that beats to the crashing of waves, because with him; you are a sea of affection, unyielding and powerful, refusing to crash.
And soon, that tide will whisk over not just the two of you, but an additional third. And youâll then have your own ocean of love.
âBut I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both." - Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, "An Origin Story"
Comments, reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated! Iâm slowly starting a tag list, so if youâd like to be added, let me know.
c/w: incest, dubcon, oral (m receiving), rafe being a perv about his (adopted) sister & her being inexperienced, 18+ mdni!
wc: 1.7k
part two & moodboard
if this is something u donât like, scroll & read something else xx  Â
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Her big brother has always been rather overbearing, which is something sheâs tried to shrug off as him merely being protective, but as far as her understanding of siblings goesâ they arenât supposed to act the way Rafe does. Â
Ever since they were little, Rafe has been weird about everyone in their strange family, but sometimes it makes her feel gross when he barges into her room while sheâs changingâ not even bothering to cover his eyes as he sits down on her mattress and starts ranting about something completely irrelevant.
It makes her feel disgusting when she notices the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth as his gaze narrows down onto whatever bare sliver of skin sheâs hurriedly trying to hide from his borderline hungry eyes.  Â
And she doesnât particularly enjoy when he gets wasted or high off of whatever heâs snorted at some stupid party and insists that he just has to sleep next to her because heâs not feeling good. And despite her drowsy complaints, heâs always snuggling too close for comfort with his hands all over her; pulling her flush against him and letting the cushion of his lips graze the skin of her neck.
He keeps telling her that itâs nothing out of the ordinary when he gives her details about the girls heâs slept with and what his favorite positions are, even if sheâs told him multiple times that she doesnât want to know. And whenever theyâre home alone, he even goes as far as bringing girls to his roomâ making sure their loud moans echo right into her bedroom when he knows sheâs trying to study.  Â
And whenever heâs tagging along during her little shopping trips (he doesnât let her go alone because what if something happens?), he always demands on joining her in the fitting roomsâ even squeezing himself into the crammed space when sheâs trying on lingerie, claiming that she absolutely needs his opinion.  Â
âRafe, thatâs weird,â she tries to get him to wait outside but of course he merely rolls his eyes. Â
âSânot weird, know how indecisive you can be, jusâ wanna help,â he says, seemingly genuine while heâs already fiddling with the clip of her bra.  Â
And she feels her cheeks burning when the cashier mentions how sweet it is that her boyfriend is paying for her clothesâ to which Rafe merely chuckles while she canât find the words to correct the poor woman because sheâd probably faint if she learned the truth about their relationship.
More often than not, he tends to be borderline territorial. One time, sheâs simply talking to a guy at some party, when all of a sudden, she feels an all too familiar presence behind her.
âWhoâs this, hm?â he slurs, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulder.  Â
âOh, itâsâŚum, no one,â she peeps out because she knows how he is. However, her attempts at calming him down prove to be fruitless because heâs already approaching the guy with a scoff.  Â
âYou, uh, you do know that this is mâsister, right? Mine. So, why donât you, uh, go ân try to impress some other bitch, yeah?â he offers him a sickly-sweet smile, voice harsh before telling her theyâre leavingâ strong hands on her waist already dragging her towards his truck.
âI was having fun,â she complains when heâs putting the seatbelt on herâ his breath smelling of beer when he drawls out a reply. âYou can have all the fun you want with me when we get home, yeah?â  Â
âBut I wanted to spend time with my friends,â she pouts.  Â
âThatâs just too bad then, isnât it?â he murmurs while starting the engineâ resting a warm palm on her thigh soon after, ignoring her efforts of shrugging it off. Â
- - - - - - - - - - -
When he learns that she hasnât had her first kiss yet (because why would anyone even think about touching her when they know Rafe is a complete psycho), he mocks her to the point of her eyes growing glossy as she tries to blink away the soggy droplets.
âSâokay, you wanna get it over with, hm? Iâll help you,â he so kindly offers with faux concern glimmering in the moonstones of his eyes.  Â
âRafe, thatâs gross,â she frowns, to which he merely furrows his brows before scoffingâ as if sheâs the one being weird.  Â
âSo, uh, so you tellinâ me you want someâŚsome stranger at a party who only wants to get in your pants to do it instead?â he narrows his eyes as if thatâs the only alternative. Â
âNâ no,â her answer is hesitant. Â
âListen, mâjustâŚmâjust, tryna be a good brother ân help my little sister out, but if you donât want mâhelp then donât come cryinâ to me when you embarrass yourself cause you donât even know how to kiss,â he lifts his hands up in surrender before shrugging, suggesting that heâd merely be doing her a favor.  Â
And before her brain has the time to process whatâs happening, heâs already dragging her into his lap. And it feels wrong when their mouths are suddenly slotting togetherâ when heâs letting out a shallow groan and slipping his tongue past her teeth without so much as a warning.
âRafe! You didnât tell me you were gonna do that,â she squeaks out, pulling away with her face all crumpled up, feeling disconcerted.  Â
âShut up, youâre gonna wake up everyone, thought you wanted to learn?â he mutters out before heâs smearing his mouth on hers once moreâ this time with a tight grip on her jaw that forces her to stay put as the the kiss turns into something sloppy; wet.
And afterwards, he makes her promise that she wonât tell anyone because âyou donât want dad to get mad at you, do you?â and even if she feels guilt eat away at her, she keeps it to herself because the last thing she wants is to upset anyone.Â
- - - - - - - - - - - -
âRafe guess what? I have a date tomorrow,â she gives him a giddy smile while stepping into his room a few weeks later. Â
âWith who?â he eyes her while slouching on his bed, seemingly in the midst of texting someone.
âThis guy I met on the beach today,â she sits down on the edge of the mattress when he places his phone on his nightstand.
âYeah? Whatâs his name?â he asks, shifting closer. Â
âUm, Ethan.âÂ
âLast name?â Â
âIâ I donât know, didnât askâŚwhy does it matter? Was just wondering if you could drive me there?â she says, surprised by his sudden interest.Â
âWhere?â his tone sounds almost exasperated now, as if sheâs done something bad.
âUm, weâre just gonna hang out at his house,â she chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous.
âYou havinâ a date at his house? You finally gonna lose that virginity, huh?â he asks as patronizing laughter bubbles from his chest.
âWhat? No! Sânot like that,â she mumbles, her skin already boiling.Â
âNo? You do know when guys say they wanna hang out, it means they wanna fuck, right? Youâre not that stupid, are you?â his gaze is borderline condescending when he raises his brows.
âWell, heâs not like that, he seems nice,â she tries to defend herself, feeling small all of a sudden.
âSweetheart, every guyâs like that, especially the ones that seem nice, youâre so fuckinâ naive,â he scoffs while running a hand through his hair.
âYou know what? Forget about it, Iâll just walk there,â she huffs out, standing up to leave, however, she doesnât get far before heâs grabbing at her arm.
âListen, mâjust tryna look out for you, okay? Donât feel like dealinâ with your shit âbout how he broke your heart. I mean, if youâre not gonna let him hit, heâs gonna be expectinâ somethinâ else, you know that, right?â
She swallows.
âIâ are you sure? ButâŚbut I donât even know how toââÂ
âPoor baby, what would you do without your big brother, hm? Donât worry, Iâll teach you, yeah?â he coos before pinky promising heâll be gentle.
And thatâs how she ends up on her knees in front of him.Â
âRay, this doesnât feelâŚright,â she mumbles out, eyes focused on the ruddy tip heâs thumbing over while he stares at her.
âShh, can be our little secret, yeah? Jusâ wanna make sure my little sister doesnât embarrass herself,â he lets out a grunt when she blinks up at him with uncertain eyes.
âOpen your mouth, tongue out,â he instructs while moving closer to her tentative form, biting his lip when she gingerly does what he tells her to. Then, heâs thudding the drippy head on the flat of her tongueâ one, two, three times, which makes her let out a noise; something that only seems to spur him on.
He tastes salty and it makes it all the more real, all the more wrong because she doesnât necessarily mind the taste, which makes her feel entirely too gross about the situation altogetherâ the words âI donât wanna do this anymoreâ turning into a tangled muddle when heâs already pushing past her lips, making her gag around the sudden intrusion.
âShit, thaâs good, jusâ take it, yeah?â he rumbles out; a big hand holding the back of her head as he stuffs himself deeper down her throatâ cock twitching in response to her whines and attempts at drawing away for air.
It overwhelms her to no end when heâs so rough, abrasive, but despite his broken promise, sheâs unable to prevent her thighs from pressing together when throaty moans keep escaping him; his respiration turning labored by each lazy rut of his hips while her head begins to spin.
Only when his sticky cum gushes onto her tongueâ the white substance dribbling past the seam of her lips and covering her chin in the process, does he grant her a moment to catch her breath.
âGuys like it when you swallow,â his voice is like gravel when he pushes at her jaw, heady gaze glued to the way her throat bobs when she does just that, the aftertaste of what theyâve done making her feel stained; dirty.
âYou know, sâcute you thought Iâd let some, some shithead fuck my sister,â he sounds almost humored as he pats at the flushed skin of her cheekâ making her eyes turn watery when he swipes a thumb under her wobbly bottom lip to clean up the remaining mess.
She feels something in her guts churn when he tucks it back into her mouth with a sick smile.
You're around. You've always been around. Like a shadow on the wall. He runs, and you follow. It all began when you unwittingly became "Crash's" CI back in the early 90s.
Fic follows the True Detective season 1 plotline/timeline.
WARNING: MDNI 18+, smut, mentions of sex work, self-harm, suicidal ideation. Graphic depictions of miscarriage, drug-use, and violence. Read at own risk.
18+ only mdni. You and Joel are neighbors who canât stand each other, but youâve found a way to quickly get over it. My tag list and inbox are always open and available so please ask. Thanks everyoneđťđ master list
âGod I canât fucking stand you.â Joel angrily whispered in your ear. His hands gripping your cheeks as he bounced you up and down on his erect length. Your arms wrapped around his neck holding on as tightly as you could. Your skirt around your waist, and Joel had his pants pulled down just enough.
âI canât fucking stand you either.â You said out of breath as you tried not to moan out loud. Pressing your face into the crevice of his neck and biting down, a growl escaping his lips, as he smacked a hand on your backside in warning.
Joel currently had you pinned against the wall in his closet, while his wife was downstairs continuing to host the party that they were throwing. Joel was your next door neighbor that you couldnât stand. He was rude, vile and incredibly annoying, and you two never saw eye to eye about anything. Constantly exchanging harsh words and comments to each other all while doing it with a smile, and a middle finger behind your back.
But the sexual tension between you both was just boiling over at this point. You could feel his heated gaze on you the entire time as you walked through the house. Giving him a cocky smirk before next thing you know you felt a rough hand grab you, and drag you upstairs and shove you in his closet.
âYet youâre letting me fuck this tight, wet and juicy cunt while my wifeâs downstairs.â He mocked you and all you could do was whimper at his word choice. âSuch a greedy whore.â
His words hitting you right between the legs as you clenched tightly him making him groan. He knew right then and there his words held the complete truth. You were wanting him, as shameful as it was to admit, he was married and you couldnât stand him, but yet the thought of him being touching you or being inside you had you aching between your legs.
âI know youâve been wanting this for so long.â He cooed in a teasing tone, and you tried not to roll your eyes, but he was telling the truth.
You had spent so many nights awake thinking about him, touching yourself to thoughts of what he could do to you, and then feeling absolute guilt that morning, like you had done something wrong. It was wrong. Heâs a married man and here you were imagining him fucking you on the bed, but now heâs fucking you in a closet.
âOh, youâre gonna be such a good girl for me arenât ya?â He said more to himself than you, but regardless hearing him say it as if he didnât want this to be the last time he was inside you. âYouâll do anything for me.â
A cry left your lips as he hit that sweet spongey spot, and a hand closed around your mouth. âShhh darlinâ, donât want my wife to hear us fuckinâ.â
âJust shut up and fuck me harder.â You spit at him through his hand, and all he did was grin mischievously, and turn around and cleared some stuff off a bench and placed your back on it. He remained inside you the whole time, not once losing his grip or letting you slip.
âOh Iâm gonna fuck the shit out of you darlinâ. Donât you worry about that.â Grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders, as he started plunging in a different angle, and hitting even deeper and harder, you could hear the bench creaking beneath you as you quickly gripped the edges. The plush cushion felt soft against your skin like you were lying on a cloud.
Trying not to focus on the laughter that you could hear downstairs, but the handsome and devilish face that was staring down at you. Grunting each time he thrusted into you, and hands running up and down your thighs like he couldnât get enough of touching your skin. You could already feel your release knocking at the door, and you didnât know how much longer you were going to last.
âJoel, Iâm gonnaââ you started to whine, and Joel knew by the look on your face you were close.
âFuck let me hear you.â Sneering through his teeth as the sounds of his skin smacking against yours echoed around the room bouncing off the walls. Little whimpers and moans slipping out of your mouth like a faucet that was leaking.
Reaching a hand down to between where you two were connected. His thumb rubbing rapid circles on your puffy and swollen clit like he was scratching off a lottery ticket. He was desperate to get you there so he could feel his release as well. He had been holding it for a minute now, and was waiting for you to come first.
âCome for me darlinâ, wanna feel the sweet cunt squeeze my cock.â He encouraged you and you bite down on your arm as you felt your legs shaking, and the unbelievable pressure in your lower stomach.
Joel wasnât far behind as you could feel him squirting his warm and sticky load inside of you. Cock twitching as he panted heavily into your neck kissing the skin like a secret lover. The air in the room was foggy and moist, and smelled like scandalous sex. You couldnât believe what had just taken place, and let alone in a closet while a party was going on downstairs.
âFuckin Christ.â Joel grumbled as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, and kept his other hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles like heâs done it before and it felt comforting to him.
âJoel. Baby.â A soft voice called outside of the closet door. Both you and Joel looking over and then to each other, your eyes wide in panic but he looked cool as a cucumber. âAre you coming back down to the party?â
âYeah babe, Iâll be right down.â He responded his voice steady, as he looked at you and grinned placing a quick kiss on your lips waiting for her to walk away.
âAnd do you know where Y/N is? Thereâs someone I wanted to introduce her to.â
Summary:Â In a camp where survival depends on silence and obedience, you hide in the supplies tent, trying to outrun the shadow of the man who once pulled you out of the woods and claimed you as his own. But when a cruel voice cuts too deep and old wounds split open, you retreat to the only place you can fall apart unseenâonly to find Joel stepping into the dark after you, his presence a reminder of the bond you shouldnât want, and the one you canât seem to break.
Warnings:Â 18+, smut, fluff, fauxcest, taboo dynamics, daddy kink, reader calls Joel dad, ddlg themes, age gap (20s and 60s), dom!daddy!joel, praise kink, pinv, nipple pinching/rubbing, clit rubbing, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, squirting (once), finger sucking, pet names, joel calls reader bambi, little fawn and little one, kinda icky, insecure!reader, sub!reader, outbreak
A/N: Okey⌠if you donât like things like this, I gently encourage you to just scroll or block me. This isnât even the most taboo or âickyâ thing out there, but fandoms are really falling apart right now because of censorship and peopleâs inability to differentiate fiction from reality. So many writers are deactivating or taking their fics down, and itâs honestly really sad. If you enjoy this, the best way to support fic writers is by leaving a comment or a reblogâit helps to keep the fandom alive while everything feels like itâs crumbling. Anyways...I really hope yall enjoy this pookies!! <3
It was all a big, fucking mess.
Missing clothes darped haphazardly over boxes like ghosts of forgotten wardrobesâsocks unpaired and with holes in them, jackets with messy hems spilling from open bags, and shirts crumpled into balls that might have once shielded someone from the biting chill.
You searched through the mess, fingers numb where the cold slipped through your thin gloves, trying to bring some order to it.
Across the tent, weapons laid scattered in a mockery of readinessâa rifle slumped against a stack of boxes, knives strewn like fallen leaves over the workbench, a pistol halfly buried under belts, its grip worn smooth from fearâtightened hands.Â
The supplies tent was a tangled symphony of neglect that you inherited by your own choice.Â
You, were the one to volunteer for this job, the endless counting, packing, arranging and preparing that no one else dared to even touch.Â
And all because it kept you hidden, buried in the grit and grime, far from the piercing gaze of the man who had become your unwilling anchor.Â
Joel, the leader of this ragged group of survivors, was the one who had stumbled upon you in the frozen wasteland, your body curled in a fragile knot against the merciless cold, breath shallow as a whisper on the wind. He had pulled you from death's numb embrace, wrapped you in his coat that smelled of earth, and carried you back to this fragile resemblance of life. From that moment on, he treated you like the daughter fate had stolen from him, his rough hands gentle in their guidance, his voice a low rumble that insisted purpose where despair already has taken root.Â
But purpose came laced with something deeper, rumours that twisted in your chest like vines overtaking a crumbling wall, and so you fled into the shadows of this tent, avoiding the warmth of his presence that both soothed and cared.
The canned goods were cluttered in the lower shelves, their labels peeling, revealing dents and bulges that spoke about expiration dates long past. You lifted one after another, the weight heavy in your palms, peering at the faded ink that marked them as relics of a world that no longer existed.Â
A voice sliced through the quiet like a blade through fog then.
"This place is a disaster," he snarled, "No wonder we can't find anything. Look at thisâhalf the ammo's scattered like fuckin' confetti, and these cans? Christ, they're older than the damn outbreak."
It belonged to Leon, one of the newer men of the group, his face weathered by the apocalypse but twisted now with frustration as he stormed into your space, boots kicking aside a stray boot in his haste.Â
You opened your mouth, but only a stutter escapedâa soft, halting: "I-I'm... trying toâ" before it died on your lips.Â
Defense was a foreign language to you, vulnerability had been your shield and your curse, for a long, long time. Â
You shrank back, eyes dropping to the floor as if dirt could swallow you whole.
And he didn't stop, his anger swelling on. "Only reason you're still here is 'cause Joel dragged you in like some stray," he growled, the words dripping with disdain, painting you as a burden. "Half frozen mutt he pitied. Without him, you'd be buzzard food by now. So maybe stop fuckin' up and earn your keep."Â
The insult hit you deep, twisting the knife of your insecurities, and you just stood there, silent and small, your throat tight with the unshed tears and the weight of his judgment.Â
But Leon didn't notice the shift in the air, the subtle thickening as a presence entered the room. He didn't see Joel standing by the tent flap, entered silently, drawn by some instinct that always seemed to pull him towards you, his girl.Â
He watched, his jaw set and tight, eyes narrowing as the man's tirade unfolded, each word fuelling the quiet storm brewing within him.
When Leon turned around, his confidence evaporated like mist under the sun. There was no mistaking the aura that radiated from Joel: stern, unyielding, a force that filled the tent like smoke from a fire.Â
He was the leader, the authority etched into every survivor's bone in this group; the man whose word was law in this godforsaken lawless world.
Cross him, especially on his girl, and you were cast out into the wilds, where mercy was nonexistent.
 Joel's gaze pinned Leon in place, dark and unblinking, the lines of his face carved deeper by the weight of command and the raw possessiveness that surged for you.
"What the hell do'ya think you doin'?" Joels voice was low at first, that gradually became a loud roar. "You don't talk to her like that. Not ever. She's worth ten of you and if you forget that again, you're goneâout there with the infected and the dead."
The yell was possessive, a statement that echoed his claim on you, the daughter he had taken from ice and hopelessness, the one whose every stutter, every tremble, multiplied his protective fury. His chest heaved quickly, veins standing out on his neck, the air crackling with the intensity of a father defending his ownâor something dangerously close to even more?
Joel turned to you then, his expression softening just for a tiny moment: "Go on to your tent, honey'," he said.Â
You nodded quickly, legs unsteady as you gathered your coat, slipping past him with a brush of shoulders that sent a forbidden spark through you, his scent drifting into your awareness before you can stop it.
As you vanished, Joel came closer to Leon, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than any shout. "If you even dare to raise your voice against her again, it'll be the last damn time you ever speak."
He nodded jerkily, face pale as snow, and backed out of the tent without another word, the flap swinging shut behind him loudly.
Alone now, Joel exhaled a long, deep sigh, his shoulders slumping as the tension bled from his frame. He never wanted to raise his voice like that, ever. Not with you nearby, not when every yell took away this fragile peace he tried to build just for you, his girl, the new-found light he had pulled from the frozen dark.Â
But that's who Joel was...for you, he would roar down the heavens if it kept the shadows at bay.
The rain already eased into a small drizzles as Joel stepped out of the supplies tent, his camp sprawled before him: a cluster of weathered tents, wet by the rain and surrounded by leafless trees. Smoke curled lazily from a central fire pit, where a few survivors stirred a pot of thin stew, their faces marked by the things they had endured.Â
Joel's boots sank into the mud with each stride, the cold seeping through the leather, but he paid it no mind; the chill in his bones was nothing compared to the one gnawing at his heart.
"Tim!" he barked, his voice cutting through the murmur of the camp. "Patrol's leavin' in ten. You, Leon, and Liviaâcheck the perimeter east of the ridge. Infected tracks reported last night; don't get sloppy."Â
The younger scavenger poked his head out from behind a stack of firewood, his hair damp and clinging to his neck.Â
Leon, still pale from the earlier confrontation, nodded mutely, avoiding Joel's gaze as he slunk towards the armory tent to gear up. Joel watched him go, a flicker of satisfaction run through himâno one touched his girl, not with words, not with anything else.Â
Turning to the others, Joel continued his demands, calloused hands resting on his hips.Â
"Billy, you reinforce the watchtowerâthose boards are rotted through. And Clint, you and the kid handle the traps; reset 'em along the water. We need fresh meat if this rain don't let up."
His hands moved with practiced efficiencyâclapping a shoulder here, pointing emphatically thereâhis presence a stronghold against the spreading despair that threatened to swallow them all once. The group responded to him instinctively, their movements quickening under his check, the camp starting to awake again.Â
Yet beneath it all, in the shadowed place of his mind, you lingered like a faint melody, pulling at him with an ache that no amount of barked commands could drown.
His girl.Â
The thought of you wrapped around him, warm but tormenting, as he walked towards the map tent to plot the next supply raid. He had sent you to your tent like some kind of mutt, dismissed with a gruff exterior that masked the tenderness he yearned to unleash. 'Honey', he called you, the word slipping out like a confession, but you slipped away just as quickly, your eyes downcast, body tense with that avoidance that you wore like your armor.Â
If you weren't dodging him at every turn, at every god damned path, he would have followed you right thenâpushed aside the flap of your shelter, knelt besides you, and pulled you into his arms until the world's cruelties melted away.Â
But you were a ghost to him now, haunting the edges of his vision, and the distance you enforced carved deeper than any infected could bite.
The memory tugged at him then, pulling him back through the veil of time to that frozen eve when he'd first claimed you from winters ruthless grips. Â
It was a night etched in ice and desperation, the world blanketed in snow, muffling the distant howls of the infected nearby.
Joel had been scavenging alone, his back-pack light, but his rifle heavy across his back, when he spotted youâa huddled form against the base of a snow-laden cliff, your body curled into itself like a wild fawn seeking safety and shelter.Â
Half-frozen to death; your lips blue tinted, breath a faint mist that barely stirred in the air, clothes ragged and already crusted with frost. You were a vision of fragility in this unforgiving realm, and in that moment something primal stirred in Joels chestâa fierce, paternal urge to shield what the apocalypse had nearly shattered.
He dropped to his knees besides you, gloved hands gentle as they brushed snow from your face, the touch coaxing a shiver from your chilled frame.Â
"Hey, hey now," he murmured, his voice sweet and coaxing like honey laced with gravel. "Ain't leavin' you out here to freeze. C'mon, let's get you all warm."
With effortless strength, he scooped you up, arms strong, protected around you and carried you to a sheltered hollow where he quickly set up a small, but efficient campâa trap strung between trees, a fire pit in the middle, and something soft to sleep on.Â
The flames he coaxed to life danced shadows across your almost colourless skin as he stripped away your sodden layers with careful hands, wrapping you in his own coat, thick and smelling of pine smoke and his warmth. You trembled in his arms, teeth chattering and Joel drew you close, his body a furnace against yours, you cuddled into the curve of his chest until the shivers turned into quiet breaths.Â
One hand stroked your hair in rhythmic passes, the other rubbed slow circles on your back.
"That's it," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, calming as a lullaby in the storm. "I've got you. Just breathe, sweetheart. Where you come from? Lost out here all alone, hm?'"
Your voice was a fragile thread when it once came, stuttering and faint, spilling the fragments of a shattered past, settling the last pieces of hope you have on this gruff stranger.
You talked, and talked. A family torn by the outbreak, days of wandering through blizzards alone and at one point the days blurred in line between living and surrender.Â
Joel listened without judgment, his nods steady, eyes full of empathy that held your gaze without flinching. And when hunger clawed at you, he didn't hand you the rations; instead, he broke off pieces of jerky with his fingers, feeding you gently from his hand, one by one, the salt melting on your lips.Â
"Open up," he coaxed, his thumb brushing your chin, the intimacy of the act weaving an invisible bond.Â
Then water followed from his old bottle, tilted carefully so you could sip without spilling, his free hand supporting your head, murmuring encouragements until color returned to your cheeks.
Winter days started to blur into an each one another of shared survival and comfort. The two of you holed up in that makeshift haven as snow piled high outside. Joel hunted in the mean time, strengthened the shelter around you, and tended to you with a devotion that surprised even him...a man only hollowed by loss, now filling the void with your quiet, genlte presence.Â
He watched you closely, noting in his head the way overwhelm shadowed in your eyes when the wind howled too fiercely, how viulnerability clung to you. You were a delicate bloom in this hopeless wasteland, oh how easily you were  crushed by the weight of existence. It steered something deep in Joel, a need to be your shelter; your steady hand.Â
One evening, as the sun set, you sat by the fire, knees drawn to your chest, and admitted something: "I can't do this by myself. Everything's just too big, too much. I need...I need someone to look after me." And "Like the cold out there, it grabbed me and wouldn't let go, and now even this warmth feels overwhelming, like I might melt away or something...I need...I need someone to look after me. Someone to tell me it's okay when my head spins and I can't breathe right. What if I freeze again? Or what if the noises outside get louder? I just...I don't know how to make it stop being so much."
The words hung between you that day, raw and revealing, and when you looked up at him, eyes wide with unspoken plea, you whispered, 'Dad.' The title landed like match on dry grass, but catching Joels attention more than ever.Â
He couldn't resist; pulling you into his lap, he cradled you close, his chin resting on your head, promising silently to be that for youâthe father fate had denied him once over, your guardian against the dark.
But the nights deepened the bond into something more tangled, more forbidden.Â
One such evening, in the closeness of the small tent, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and the chill, you turned to him in the shared bedroll.Â
Bodies pressed together for warmth, your form molding to his like clay on the potter's wheel, and in that quiet intimacy, you kissed himâa small brush of lips that slowly but surely  bloomed into hunger.Â
"Daddy," you breathed against his mouth, the word a velvet plea, followed by 'Dad' laced with sweet longing.Â
Joel's restraint fractured like thin ice; his hands roamed your curves with hunger, he hadn't felt for yearsâpeeling away layers until skin met skin, his cock hardening against your thigh as desire overrode the lines of propriety.
He entered you slowly, inch by deliberate inch, his thick, girthy length stretching your warmth with a gentleness that calmed the storm within you.Â
"Shh, baby girl," he cooed, voice husky and commanding, hips rocking in a measured rhythm that built slowly over time. You clung to him, nails digging into his back, moans spilling as he fucked you deep and thorough, each thrust an erasure of the shadows haunting your mind: the infected, the losses, the loneliness and the cold.
His pace quickened, possessive and unrelenting, pounding into your sticky pussy until your cries echoed his name in variations of devotion, cum flooding you in hot pulses as ecstasy shattered every bad thought.Â
In that night, Joel learned your truths: you needed a steady hand to guide you, someone to call 'Dad' that anchored your soul, a cock to fuck you senseless until the world faded to irrelevance, leaving only the pulse of shared release.Â
Days turned into a haze, tents pitched in hidden groves where he'd take you against cold walls, caring for you with meals fed from his fingers and nights blurred by sweat-slicked skin and cum filled cunt.Â
And when you two finally returned into his small camp after endless miles of this intimate journeyâyour body marked by his touch, heart entwined with hisâhe envisioned a life where you did no labor, simply waited in his tent, legs spread in welcome, his to protect and possess.Â
"Stay with me, darlin'," he murmured, tracing patterns on your thigh. "Let me handle it all."
But rumours started to spread like wildfireÂ
on dry bushes, untrue whispers that poisoned this fragile relationship that you have built.Â
Someone overheard your breathy 'Dad' in a moment of overwhelm, twisting it into a scandal.Â
Another caught the sounds of your shared tent, moans misconstrued as depravity. Whispers evolved: "She's got him wrapped around her finger, that stray he dragged in."
The words reached to you, burrowing like thorns, making you feel small, misunderstoodâa weirdo in a world that already judged harshly.Â
So...the ache in your heart swelled until it bursted: you ended it, pulling away with tear-streaked face, declaring it over to spare him the shame.
Joel was absolutely heartbroken, the pain in his chest an ache that echoed with your absence, but he didn't let you go. He checked on you regularlyâslipping rations to your tent, watching you from afar as you navigated the camp, ensuring your safety with a stubbornness that bordered on obsession.Â
Yet he couldn't bear it longer: your avoidance, the careful dance of distance, the sidelong glances from the group, their murmurs like knives, your belief that you are weird, tainted, when to him you were this salvation incarnate.
As his thoughts faded, Joel found himself adrift in the present, his orders trailing off as he stared at the map spread before him. The camp still buzzed around him, patrols forming, tasks underway, but his mind was a whirlwind of youâvulnerable, evasive, his girl who needed him more than she knew.Â
He couldn't take the separation anymore; tonight, he'll connect the gap, pull you back into the fold where you belonged, forbidden pull be damned, rumors silenced by the strength of his claim.
-
As the sun dipped low beneath the horizon, painting the camp in bruised purples and fading golds, Joel felt the weight of the day slowly settle into his bones.Â
He couldn't bear the silence any longer, the way you'd retreated into your shell after the supplies tent moment, your avoidance a blade twisting deeper and deeper with every passing hour.Â
His feet carried him unerringly through the mud slicked paths, past the murmurs of the group settling in for the night, until he stood before your tentâlarger than the cramped quarters of the men, a sanctuary he'd insisted on crafting for you, and only you, alone.
He poured his callused hands into making it a haven, didn't he?Â
The frame reinforced with scavenged wood, the canvas walls doubled for insulation against the relentless chill. Inside, he built the bed himselfâa sturdy frame of rough wood, topped with a mattress stuffed with whatever soft fibers he could forage, layered with blankets pilfered from forgotten homes.Â
Cushions and pillows, sewn from scraps of fabric, scattered for your comfort. A small table he made from a fallen log, wobbly but earnest. Shelves cobbled together for your few treasureâan old book, a carved wooden fawn he shaped in quiet momentsâall of it born from his desire to wrap you in coziness, to shield your fragile spirit from the world's jagged edges.Â
Oh, how grateful you've been once, your eyes lighting with a warmth that melted the ice in his chest.Â
Now, as evening deepened, Joel hesitated at the flap, his broad fist hovering, a rare feeling of fear coiling in his gut.Â
What if you turned him away?Â
What if the chasm you'd carved between you had grown too wide to bridge?Â
He was Joel Miller, the unbreakable leader of this ragged band, yet here he was, scared like a little boy before confession.Â
Swallowing the knot in his throat, he knocked three times on the wooden part, soft enough not to startle, firm enough to announce his presence.
"Darlin'?" he called out, voice threaded with caution. "It's me. Joel."
The flap parted after a long moment, and there you stood, framed in the warm lantern light that spilled from within, your brows furrowed in a frown that tugged at his heartstrings.
Your eyesâthose sweet, doe eyes that had first drawn him inâwere rimmed red, lashes clumped with the remains of tears. The sight hit him like a gut punch; rage surged hot and immediate, a visceral urge to hunt down Leon and drive his fist into that sneering face until the man tasted the blood of his own regret.Â
How dare anyone reduce you to thisâhis girl, curled in on herself, wounded by words sharper than any blade in this merciless world?
"Can I come in?" Joel asked, his tone gentle, eyes searching yours with a plea he couldn't voice.Â
You nodded, a small, reluctant dip of your chin, stepping aside to let him pass.Â
The tent was a cocoon of warmth, cozy and sweet, mirroring the tender heart you hid away from everyone. The lantern light bathed the space in a golden haze, softening the edges of the handmade furniture, the pillows plump and inviting on the bed where you so often curled like a fawn seeking shelter.Â
Joel knew your habits intimatelyâhow you drew your knees to your chest, burrowing into the nest of blankets, your form small and vulnerable, evoking those pet names he'd whispered in quieter times: Little Fawn, Bambi, fragments that captured your innocence amid the brutality.Â
"You didn't need to defend me there," you said. "I could've just done it myself."
Even as the words left your lips, you knew they were hollow; Leons yelling had left you stammering, small and exposed.Â
He turned to you, his dark eyes steady, holding yours with an intensity that peeled away your defenses layer by layer.
"I know," he replied. "But ain't gonna leave you alone like that. Not ever."Â
You scoffed, the whispers of the camp echoing in your mind again, their side glances branding you as the weird one, the stray with the leader wrapped around her finger.Â
Crossing your arms, you sank onto the bed, curling your frame, knees tucked close, gaze fixated on a spot in the corner. Tears started to well anew, hot and insistent, blurring the edges of the room as vulnerability crashed over you like a relentless wave.
"Oh, little fawn..." Joel murmured, the petname that was meant to soothe the hurt he saw etched in every line of your body.
"Don't," you whispered, voice cracking, turning your face away as the first tears traced down your cheeks. "Don't call me that."Â
The plea was raw, laced with the ache of the loss for the intimacy those words once evoked, now tainted by the misunderstanding, by the fear that you were too weird, too needy in a world that devoured the weak.
Undeterred, Joel lowered himself besides you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, while his presence was a grounding force amid your unraveling. You curled up tighter, a defensive coil, but he didn't press...instead, he sat close enough that the heat of him radiated through the space between, a silent promise of shelter.
"You remember the first time you called me Dad?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.Â
You flinched at the word, an involuntary shiver rippling through you, the title stirring a hollow ache in your chestâan echo of warmth now soured by shame.
"I didn't think much of it," Joel continued softly, his hand rising with slowness to stroke your hair, fingers threading through the strands. Each pass was measured, calming, tracing the curve of your scalp as if it was to unravel the knots of your turmoil. "But I knew that your little heart calmed down after you called me that. Like the world's weight lifted, just a tiny bit."Â
His touch was poetry in motion, rough palms gentle by intent, evoking memories of winter nights when his care had been your lifeline.
You sniffled, the sound small, peeking at him through your wet eyelashes. His eyes held no judgment, only a deep, unwavering understandingâof how you needed to be taken care of, how the chaos overwhelmed you until you felt little, drifting into a headspace where distractions pulled you like a dream.Â
He saw that now in your hazy gaze, the faraway drift, your mind retreating to that vulnerable place where the world's edges softened into safety.
"I didn't find it weird," he pressed on, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Godâthat's the least forsaken thing in this damned world I would find weird. In a place where the dead's walk and trust is a luxury we can't afford anymore, y'callin' me Dad? That's just...you needin' what we all crave deep down. Someone that holsd the pieces together."
"Are you sure?" you whispered, the question fragile as breath itself, seeking absolution in his gaze, your tears slowing to a quiet trickle as his words pierced the fog of self doubt.
"Course, baby," Joel nodded, his affirmation steady. "Nothing weird about wanting to be taken care of. Hell, we've all got our fractures; yours just call for a steady hand, that's all."
He paused, his hand stilling in your hair, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek.Â
"You think I wouldn't have cared for you if I didn't? I wouldn't have built this bed, poured sweat into these cushions and shelves, made you all these things, hm? Every nail, every stitchâit was for you, darlin'. To give you a corner of peace in this madness."
You shrugged, a small, uncertain lift of your shoulders, the gesture speaking volumes of the doubt that lingered and lingered, but Joel leaned in then, closing the distance with a tenderness. His lips pressed to your forehead, warm, a kiss like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, sealing his words with an unspoken promise. Â
"My little fawn," he breathed against your skin, the endearment a balm, wrapping around your heart.
Something in you yielded at last, the walls crumbling under the weight of his care. You snuggled into him, your body unfolding from its curl to press against his chest, burying your head into the crook of his neck where the scent of him enveloped you like a homecoming. A soft sigh escaped you, tears soaking into his flannel as the tension disappeared, replaced by the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat.
"That's right," Joel cooed, his arms encircling you fully now, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back. "Come to Dad. I've got you, little one. Always will."Â
His voice was like a lullaby in the dark, where the world's cruelties faded to whispers, leaving only the profound poetry of two souls intertwining once more.
You nestled even deeper into him, the tears slowly drying, but a deeper ache stirred within, a  pull towards that hazy headspace that tugged you into the depths where only his touch could anchor you.Â
With a soft, instinctive motion, you reached for one of his handsâthose rough, capable hands of his that built your worldâand guided it towards your lips, your mouth parting to draw his thumb inside, sucking gently at first, the salt of his skin a familiar comfort blooming on your tongue.
Joel's breath hitched at that, followed by a low rumble vibrating through his chest as he watched you, his dark eyes softening with a mix of adoration and understanding.Â
Without hesitation, he shifted his hand, cupping your cheek with his palm, angling his thumb deeper into the wet warmth of your mouth so you could nurse on it more fully, the pad pressing against the soft roof as your lips sealed around it. He leaned down, his lips brushing the crown of your head in a feather-light kiss.Â
"There you go, baby," he murmured, his southern drawl a soothing balm, thick and warm like honey drizzled over wounds. "Suck a little deeper if it feels right...yeah, just like that."
His words were a gentle coo, laced with that paternal sweetness that made your heart flutter and your core clench in equal measure, his free arm tightening around your waist to rock you slowly from side to side, a rhythmic sway that mimicked the lullabies of forgotten cradles.
You whimpered around his thumb, the sound muffled and needy, your tongue swirling lazily and lazily as the subspace slowly deepened, pulling you further into that floaty haze where thoughts dissolved like mist under sun. The rocking motion lulled you, his body a cozy cocoon of flannel and muscle, but the whimpers grew insistent, threading with a whine that Joel knew all too well: you were craving the grounding force only he could provide.Â
His cock stirred in his jeans, thickening against your thigh, but he focused on you, sensing the urgency in your escalating sounds, the way your hips shifted restlessly.Â
He knew this dance like the back of his hand; your subspace made you far gone, adrift in a sea of need, and only the deep, claiming thrust of his cockâfollowed by the shattering release of orgasmsâcould reel you back, tethering you to the present with waves of pleasure that washed away the darkness.
"Oh, sweet thing," Joel whispered, his voice a velvet rumble as his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing the soft curve of your belly before finding the swell of your breasts.Â
He cupped one gently, thumb and forefinger rolling over your nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak with slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks down your spine. The touch was feather light at first, then firmer, pinching just enough to draw a gasp from you, your mouth releasing his thumb with a wet pop, a glistening string of saliva connecting your lips to his skin like a fragile bridge of intimacy.Â
"Shh, babygirl, Daddy's just gonna touch you here...nice and easy." He murmured at your whines.Â
You whimpered louder at that, the sound raw and pleading, your hazy eyes locking onto his.Â
"Take care of me, Daddy. Please," you breathed out, your voice small and fractured, laced with the desperate ache of your subspace.
Joel's heart swelled at the plea, his little fawn so needy, so beautifully lost in that vulnerable space he cherished and protected.Â
He wouldn't dream of denying youânever.Â
This was his purpose, to soothe and claim, to fill every hollow part of you with his devotion.Â
"Oh, I know, honey," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his beard scraping softly against your skin as he eased you back onto the bed, the pillows cradling your head like a nest woven for you alone.Â
The mattress dipped under your weight, the blankets rumpling invitingly as he positioned you, his body hovering protectively above you.Â
With tender care, he tucked his finger back into your mouthâthis time his index finger, sliding it past your lips so you could suckle greedily, your tongue laving the length as if it were sustenance for your soul.Â
"There, suck on that for Dad, yea? Keeps you nice and calm while I take care of the rest."
His other hand trailed downwards, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants to find the slick heat of your cunt. You were already so soaked, your folds swollen and parting eagerly under his touch, the sticky evidence of your need coating his fingers as he traced your slit.Â
"God, look at you, Bambi...all wet and achin' for me," he cooed, his voice dripping with praise. "This for daddy, huh, honey? Dripping, achy pussy."
He pressed two fingers inside you without warning, stuffing your pussy full in one smooth glide, the stretch burning sweetly as your walls clenched around the intrusion, spasming with desperate hunger. You whined against his finger in your mouth, the vibration humming through him, your hips bucking instinctively to take him deeper.
"Biiig stretch, baby, yea?" his tone coaxing and babying, like an old man spinning tales to his most cherished kin.Â
"Big stretch..." you repeated messily around his finger.Â
Satisfied with your answer, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot with expert precision, his thumb circling your clit in lazy loops that made your thighs tremble.Â
The wet sounds of his movements filled the tent: slick, obscene squelches that mingled with your muffled whimpers whike the air started growing thick with the musky scent of your arousal, sticky and intimate.Â
"Y'gonna rub your nipples for me? Pinch 'em, for Dad? Show me how good you can be while I finger this pretty little cunt, c'mon." His words were filthy yet laced with such profound sweetness.
Obediently, lost in the haze, you released his finger just enough to slide your hands under your shirt, fingers finding your nipples and pinching them hard, rolling the peaks between your thumbs and forefingers until they throbbed in time with the thrusts of his hand.Â
The dual sensation overwhelmed youâmouth full, pussy stuffed, breasts aching under your own touchâyour mind traveling further into that blissful subspace.Â
Joel watched, absolutely mesmerised, his eyes full of love.Â
"That's it, Bambi." He murmurs. "Pinch a little more if it helps, yeah? make 'em ache like your cunny does for me."
The pace build as your juices start to leak down his knuckles, coating his palm in your sticky essence.Â
Overstimulated and lost in the velvet haze of your headspace, Joel's relentless fingers curled inside your gushing pussy one more time; stroking that swollen spot until pressure build like a storm in your core, your cries of "Dad, too muchâm'gonna...oh..." fracturing into a needy sob as a sudden, tiny squirt escaped, warm fluid arcing in a delicate spray across his wrist and your quivering belly forming a filthy little puddle.
"Easy now, darlin', let it all out for Dadâjuuuust like that, baby." he cooed.
Your mouth stilled around his finger, lips parting in a silent cry as your cunt pulsed wildly around his digits, gushing more slick that soaked the bed beneath you. Your hands fell from your nipples, trembling, as waves of ecstasy rippled through you, pulling a choked sob from your throat.Â
Joel slowed his movements then, drawing out the aftershocks with gentle strokes, his gaze drinking in the sight of you splayed out before himâcheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening, eyes glazed in that beautiful, vulnerable haze.Â
Beautiful. Sweet. His little fawn, trembling and spent yet still yearning.
"Please," you whined, voice breathy and broken, rocking your hips against the hard bulge straining his jeans, the friction drawing a deep groan from his chest. "Your cock, Dad. Need it inside me."Â
"S'alright, honey," Joel soothed, his voice a tender rumble as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, then from your pussy, leaving you clenching around emptiness.Â
He shifted, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease, shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cockâ thick and veined, the head already beaded with pre-cum, curving upward in rigid need.Â
"Daddy's gonna give you what you need. Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'."
You complied, thighs parting wide, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air, the sticky mess of your release gleaming in the lantern light.Â
He knelt between them, gripping his shaft and nudging the blunt tip against your entrance, teasing with shallow dipsâin just the head, then out, coating himself in your slickâeach withdrawal pulling a breathless whine from you.Â
"Dad... please," you begged, hips going up, chasing the fullness.
He played a moment longer, savoring your desperation, the way your pussy fluttered against him, before sinking in fully with one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming heat. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing unchecked through the tent flaps, uncaring of the camp beyondâlet them hear; you were his, and this was your healing.
Joel groaned low, his forehead pressing to yours, breath sharp as he bottomed out, your walls stretching around his girth, the icky squelch of your combined wetness filling the space.
"Fuck, baby girl...so tight."
He built a comfortable rhythm just for you thenâslow, deep rolls of his hips that ground against your clit with every thrust, designed to unravel your thoughts, to flood your mind with nothing but sensation.
"Thaaat's it, honey, feel me stretchin' this sweet pussy," he whispered praises against your ear, "Dad's got you, gonna fuck all those bad thoughts away."
You whined 'Dad' and 'Daddy' endlessly, lips swollen from biting them, eyes rolling back as the pleasure built, your pussy gushing around him in sticky waves, the lewd slap of skin on skin growing wetter, messier with every drive.
"Did you miss me? Hm, baby?" He asked, softly pinching your chin between his fingers. "You're my everything, you know that? Gonna coax another cum outta this pretty hole, make you forget every damn whisper out there."
He babied you through it all, one hand stroking your hair, the other pinning your hip gently, his thrusts never falteringâfilthy in their depth, yet so profoundly sweet in intent.
"Daddy...Dad, it's too much." You bucked your hips against him.
"Shh, I know, I know. My sweet little girl." he pressed a gentle kiss on your temple, breathing in your scent.
The pressure coiled tight, and when you shattered again, your cunt clamping down in rhythmic pulses, milking him relentlessly, Joel followed with a guttural groan, burying deep as he came inside you, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy in a creamy creampie that overflowed, leaking out around his base in thick, icky trails.
"Yea, there we fuckin' go," he panted, still rocking shallowly to prolong the bliss, his voice husky with satisfaction. "All the thoughts fucked away now, huh? Look at you."
You nodded weakly, mind blissfully blank, body limp in the afterglow.
Joel eased his cock out with care, watching as his cum leaked from your well fucked pussy, pearly white mixing with your slick in a messy puddle on the sheets.
The sight stirred him anew, and before you could protest the sensitivity, he plunged two fingers back inside, stirring the creaminess, drawing a sharp whine from your oversensitive walls.
"Shh, hey. Easy now, easy. Just one more, honey," he hushed softly, his tone pure indulgence as he brought the other cum smeared fingers to your mouth. "Suck on 'em for Daddy, c'monâtaste how good we are together, focus on dad."
You latched on in instinctively, tongue swirling around the salty sweet tang of his release mixed with yours, the act so intimately, so cozy in its rawness. His fingers in your pussy worked gently, curling to hit that spot again, thumb rubbing your clit building you towards one final peak until you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering as fresh slick coated his hand.
Satisfied at that, Joel withdrew his fingers, trailing sweet kisses across your bodyâforehead, cheeks, the curve of your neck, down to your breasts where he lingered, suckling on your nipple briefly before murmuring against your skin.Â
"You're my everything, darlin'. My whole world in this godforsaken place."
He then gathered you close, pulling the blankets over you both, his arms wrapping securely as he rocked you side to side once more, the motion lulling you into peace.Â
"I'm gonna take care of you, no matter what they say out there." He whispered. "Sleep now, little fawn. Dad's right here."
And as your eyes drifted shut, the tent a cocoon of sticky warmth and whispered devotion, you slipped into slumber, anchored fully in his love again.
Finally.Â
I donât know if I like this or not⌠I tried a new writing style, making it a tad bit âpoetic,â but I think I failed at a few moments. A lot of paragraphs are translated from German because I didnât know how else to write them, and Iâm sorry if some of it feels a bit weird.
Anyways, I hope it met some expectations, and Iâm really excited to see what yâall say. <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
summary: joel has sworn to protect you and keep you safeâbut when the line between care and desire blurs, both of you are forced to confront what you really want.
 based on this request
cw: smut (mdni), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, use of nicknames (kiddo âcause I like it icky, sweet girl, baby, pretty girl, darlinâ, sweetpea), oral (f rec), breathplay (not previously talked about, heat of the moment, be better in real life), implied legal age difference, girly!reader, but the girl can shoot, too
wc: 5k
a/n: if lana releases a new song, I write a joel fic! thatâs just how it works
now playing:Â White Feather Hawk Tail Deer Hunter â Lana Del Rey
Itâs the bow in your hair that gets Joel thinking. Dark red satin adorns the crown of your head, beckoning him in.Â
He watches as you read your book, the sun warming your skin. Itâs the first truly nice day of the yearâwarm enough that you can sit on the porch of Joelâs cabin, only wearing one of his flannels over your cotton dress. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, and a slight crease forms between your brows as your eyes scan the pages.Â
The sight alone is enough to send Joelâs blood further south than it should be.
He knows itâs wrongâall of it is. The two of you, tucked away in a cabin just a few miles west of Jackson, together from dusk until dawn and dusk again. Joel tells himself itâs to keep you safe. Right by his side, where nothing can happen to you. The only bad man that might get you is himself, and heâs sworn to God that heâd never let it get that far.Â
But then you started sleeping in his bed. Nightmares used to plague your rest, causing you to wake up with sweat drenching your hairline and tears staining your cheeks. You didnât find peace again until his arms held you tight against his chest, his soft mutters reaching your ears.Â
Iâll take care of you, kiddo. Donât you worry. Go back to sleep, I got you.Â
And he took care of you. Kept you fed, clothed, and safe. Made sure you were happy, eager, and bright-eyed.Â
You were no fool either. A smart girl, more than willing to learn. He taught you to shoot, even though it made his heart race when he saw you holding a shotgun for the first time. The longer you stayed with him, the more he realized that you were far from helpless. While you hesitated to even point your gun at a deer, you were more than capable of shooting an infected from a good fifty yards away.Â
The more sunrises you saw together, the more Joel grew to think of you as an equal. He didnât keep you like a miniature housewife, destined to press his shirts and keep his shoes by the fireâno, you were every bit as tough as he was.Â
Still, seeing you sitting in the sun reminds him of your innocence and how much he hates that you had to sacrifice it at times for your survival.Â
He would do anything to keep the light in your eyes lit for as long as possible. Even treat you like a kid from time to time when youâre so much more.
By the time the moon had taken the sunâs spot, Joel had been left with his own thoughts for too long.Â
Youâre sitting opposite him at the dinner table, picking up four peas with your fork, one on each prong, and telling him about the ladybugs you found today.
âThey were much more orange than red,â you recall eagerly, âAnd I donât think they were the seven-spot kindâI counted at least nine.â
âMhm,â he mumbles some kind of acknowledgement while his eyes find the ribbon in your hair again.Â
âLike, I mean, of course they were still ladybugs,â you go on, oblivious to his feeble attention, âBut, like, they looked real different than the ones we had last summer.â
Heâs noticed before that his way of speaking has bled into your vocabulary. You never used to say those kinds of things back when the walls of Jackson still surrounded you. It makes his teeth hurt to see the influence he has over you.Â
âThey were pretty, right?â he grumbles.Â
You roll your eyes, a half-grin tugging at your mouth corners.
ââCourse they were,â you reply.
âThen it donât matter, kiddo.â
Dismay turns your face sour, and you huff softly.
âGuess it donât.â
âDoesnât,â he corrects.Â
âYou just said âdonât!âÂ
He doesnât mean to raise his voice, but he does anyway. âYeah, well, Iâm grown, I can say whatever I want.âÂ
Your eyebrows furrow angrily. âWhatâs with you today?â you mutter.Â
His eyes snap to yours.
âNothinâ,â he replies gruffly, âNow, eat your peas. And quit playinâ with âem.â
You stare at him for a few seconds before you grab your fork and go back to piercing your peas one by one.
âChrist,â he mumbles to himself, then rubs a hand across his face.
The dinner continues in silence, lingering uncomfortably thick. When heâs in a bad mood, you can usually cheer him up, but once you start sulking, the day might as well be over.Â
He knows itâs his faultâhe approached the whole thing wrong.Â
It takes you forever to finish your plateâyouâre too busy frowningâso Joel is half tempted to send you to bed to sleep it off. Knowing that it would only make things worse, and frankly, itâs not his place, he holds off on that.Â
Your chair squeaks loudly as you push it back, empty plate in hand, and make your way to the sink. Your footsteps fall heavily when you walk to your room without saying goodnight.Â
Joel knows you want him to follow youâyouâre waiting for an apology, one that you deserve but wonât get. Instead of indulging you, he starts rinsing the dishes, then wipes the counters clean. He hears the sink in the bathroom run, then two doors shut within seconds of each other. At least, youâre not slamming them. He takes that as a good sign.Â
Once thereâs nothing left for him to clean, he sighs to himself, then leaves the kitchen. He stands in front of your door longer than he likes. You painted it a couple of weeks ago, colorful flowers and berries decorating the frame. He had worked his ass off to find you paint that was still somewhat usable, then even managed to find some thinner so that the acrylic wouldnât be so thick.Â
He traces one of the flowers for a few seconds, following the delicate line that you had drawn, before he rolls his hand into a fist and knocks.Â
Thereâs a soft shuffle behind the door, then your voice follows. âWhat?â
Sometimes, Joel has to admit to himself that he misses the shy you. The one that didnât talk back.Â
âItâs me,â he calls out.Â
âYeah, I figured.â
You and your sass.Â
He rubs his eye once, twice, then sighs.Â
âCan I come in?â
Silence stretches for a few moments, and his heart drops. You couldnât be that mad. Could you?
But then your reply echoes through the oak wood. âYeah.â
His fingers press against the door handle, and it swings open with ease. Youâre sitting on your bed, bedsheets pulled up to your navel. The shirt youâre sporting belongs to himâold and worn, but soft to the touch. Its neckline is so stretched that he catches a glimpse of your collarbones. Itâs a comfort to him that youâre at least still wearing that, despite the disgruntled expression etched into your face as you look at him.Â
The red piece of silk is still tied in your hair, sitting there like a warning sign. He ignores it.Â
Joel flicks his hand, signaling you to scoot over, and you do. When he sinks down on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaks softly.Â
Itâs quiet as neither one of you speaks for a moment. Then Joel clears his throat.
âSoâŚâ he mumbles, âLadybugs, hm?â
He can tell that you donât want to smile, but the corners of your mouth twitch.Â
âTell me âbout âem,â he encourages quietly.Â
âThought it donâtâdoesnât matter,â you argue. The disappointment in your voice makes his old heart ache.Â
âIt does,â he murmurs. His hand rests on your knee, the blanket disconnecting you. âIf it matters to you, it matters to me.â
He tilts his head to catch your eyes and sees them softening in real time.Â
âA whole bunch of âem were down by the creek,â you say, âOn that one tree stump, you know?âÂ
He nods. You continue.
âDo ladybugs have families?â
The question is so tenderâso youâhe has to close his eyes for a few seconds.
âMhm,â he muses, âDunno much about bugs, but I figure they do. They all gotta come from somewhere, and where you come from, thatâs your family, right?â
You shrug softly.Â
âThen I guess I donât have one,â you say blankly.Â
Joel shakes his head instantly.Â
âThat ainât true, darlinâ,â he disagrees, then rubs his jaw.
âGuess I didnât explain that one right,â he mutters to himself, then goes on, âThere ainât just one type of family. Sometimes, itâs the place and people where ya come from, and then other times, itâs the people who wish ya came from the same place as them, you know? The ones who wish they had known ya all your life.â
âSo you wish youâd known me all my life?â you ask tentatively.
He winces.
âSometimes,â he replies cautiously, âBut itâs good that I didnât.â
âWhy?â
He shouldâve expected this. This is why he never explained the heavy stuff.Â
âYou know, sweetpea, itâs real late, donât you think?â he states, looking out the window. His joints groan as he stands up, but he doesnât get far. Your hand finds his biceps and holds him back.Â
âWait,â you plead, âYou canât just⌠please, what do you mean? Why only sometimes?â
Joel feels himself growing grayer by the second. As the words get stuck in his throat, he gestures vaguely between him and you.Â
âThis whole thing⌠itâd beâitâd be bad if Iâd known ya since you were a little girl.â
âBecauseâŚ?â you prompt quietly.Â
ââCause Iâd beâpeople would thinkâŚ,â he drifts off, muttering under his breath, âGoddammit.âÂ
Joel struggles to meet your eyes; he grabs your hands, both of them, and slowly brings them up to his lips. The kiss on your knuckles is soft as a feather, like a butterflyâs wings.Â
He doesnât look up as he continues, âKnowinâ you back then would mean I wouldnât be allowed to like ya the way I do now.â
The sweet look of confusion on your face makes space for realization.Â
âOh,â you say softly.Â
He nods, still not reciprocating your gaze.Â
âYeah.â
âWell, then Iâm glad you didnât know me then. âCause I like that you like me that way now.â
Finally, he drags his eyes up to meet yours. Honesty twists your expression into one heâd love to bottle up and keep for bad daysâtenderness.
âWhat am I doinâ here?â Joel asks quietly, then brushes his knuckles across your cheek. You canât help but melt into his touch, lashes fluttering shut.Â
Itâs always like this. One of you pushes, the other pulls away, then you find your way back into the shadows of that grey area neither one of you wants to leave. No oneâs done anything wrong yet.Â
Joelâs hand moves to smooth down your headband.
âShouldnât be wearinâ that when ya go to sleep,â he mumbles, âDonât want ya chokinâ on it if it slips down.â
âIâd wake up before that,â you reason.Â
He disagrees quietly, then undoes the bow and knot until it slips from your hair. The flimsy material stands out against his sun-kissed handsâhis skin freckled and wrinkled, the silk smooth.
âYou donât know anything,â he says. Itâs not intended as critique, so you donât take it that way.
âI know enough.â
Joel wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you understand just how wrong you are. Instead, he lets the piece of fabric dance around his fingers, wrapping and unravelling it consistently.Â
âYou should be runninâ for the hills,â he remarks, âAnd I should be cuttinâ my hands off for thinkinâ âbout the things I wanna do to ya with âem.â
There it isâyour breath hitches, and Joel is left to wonder whether that was one step too far, the one that just secured his place in hell.
But youâre moving before he has time to take it back. You push away your blanket, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs, before you sit back on your heels in front of him. He forces himself to look you in the eye.
âIs it that bad that I want you to do whatever youâre imagining?â you ask.Â
âYes.â His voice trembles with restraint. He knows he should leave before he does something he canât undo. But he staysâfrozen in place, your knee almost touching his.Â
Your bottom lip quivers. Â
âThen I donât care about being good,â you reply.Â
Joel has been holding back the flood for months nowâand you just cracked the dam with one sentence. The ribbon slips from his fingers and falls to the floor.Â
His hands cup your face and pull you in before his lips crash against yours. The soft give of your lips beneath his own draws him in deeper, chasing your tongue with his own. He tastes the remnants of toothpaste on your teeth, then something that is just you.Â
The guilt lingers deep in his chest as he kisses you, but something about the way your breath changes drowns out his doubts long enough.Â
Heâs the one to pull away first. With his chest heaving and his pupils blown, his gaze finds yours. He expects to see regret, or worse, disgust on your face. Instead, he sees pure, quiet, unfiltered adoration.Â
âGoddammit,â he grumbles.Â
A flustered grin lights up your face.Â
âAgain?â you whisper.
âGod, no,â he mutters, âYou kiss me like that again, and I ainât stoppinâ.â
âThen itâs a good thing Iâm not asking you to stop.â
Before he knows it, your mouth finds his again. The vibration of your giggle against his lips sends shivers down his spine, and he should know betterâbut he doesnâtâwhen his hands come to rest on your waist.Â
It starts with the slip of his fingersâbrushing against your knee, then higher. Joel curses himself for continuing until you rock your hips, just a couple of inches, but itâs enough to snap away the last of his restraint.Â
He leans forward, slowly guiding you back until your head hits the pillows, without your lips ever leaving his.Â
Situated between your thighs, he peppers soft pecks down your neck, then drops his forehead against your collarbone.Â
âTell me to stop,â he pleads, âNow.â
You shake your head. âI want to keep going.â
A sliver of awareness spreads across Joelâs face. âSweetheart,â he starts, âThis is a big thing. Like⌠a really big thing. And weâreâIâm already doinâ enough damage just by kissinâ ya.â
Joel has spent more than enough time thinking about it: you undressed in his sheets, him kneeling between your thighsâthe slow ruin of the thing either one of you called familiarity.Â
Everything feels as wrong as it feels right.
âI want this, Joel,â you insist quietly. His frown lines deepen.Â
âYou shouldnâtââ
âBut I do.â
Joel wonders if this is a test from God Himselfâhe hadnât paid that much attention to the man in the sky in the last few years.Â
âYou donât understand how hard youâre making it fâme, darlinâ.â
You sit up slightly, then reach for him. Your fingers interlock on the back of his neck, your grip tight and determined.Â
âDo you want me?â you ask.
âYou know thatâs not the issue,â he responds.Â
âThatâs not what I asked. I asked if you want me.â
He takes a deep breath, then nods. âYou know I do.â
âThen trust me when I say you can have me.â
âYouâll be the death of me.â
Joel curses himself before he kisses you again. This time, he lets his hands dip under your shirt. His calloused fingers trace your smooth skin until they reach your ribcage, settling there. The kiss is clumsy; you grin as your teeth hit his, wild fervor evaporating from your every pore.Â
Goosebumps spread across your body when Joel pulls away to meet your eyes.Â
âIâll do it right,â he declares, âI promise.â
Then his fingers find the hem of your shirt and pull it off of you. He discards the piece of clothing carelessly, too hypnotized by the sight in front of him. You hold your breath as his eyes wander, taking in every inch of skin laid bare.Â
âGot the prettiest girl Iâve ever seen begginâ for some old man right in front of me,â he murmurs. The nerves in your chest ease a little, and you shake your head at him.Â
âNot just some old man,â you correct, then cup his cheek. His weathered skin is rough against your touch.Â
He doesnât reply, and you know he disagrees; instead, he presses his lips to your forehead before they wander further down. As he trails kisses from your breasts down to your belly button, his fingers find your nipples. He tugs and twists gently, eliciting gasps from you as warmth spreads through your body.Â
You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle the noises, embarrassment flushing your cheeks. Joel notices and kisses your stiffened bud, then looks up at you.Â
âDonât hide those sounds, sweet girl,â he rumbles, âWanna hear ya. If ya want me to fuck you, ya gotta meet my demands. First one is: You donât get to hide.â
âWhat are the others?â Your voice grows more breathless as Joelâs fingers dig into the waistband of your panties.Â
âSecond one,â he begins, simultaneously tugging at the fabric that covers your core, âYou tell me what you want me to do. And thatâs all Iâll do.â
As soon as your panties meet the floor, he sits back on his heels. His eyes wander, taking in every bit of you. You look away, trying to escape his stare.
âAnd the third one,â he says, then catches your chin to tilt your face upwards, âYour eyes stay on me.â
With that, he settles between your legs, breathing in the scent of your arousal. His lips brush against your inner thigh, slowly inching towards where you want him.Â
You grip the sheets like your life depends on it and force yourself to watch. When he kisses the space where your thigh meets your hips, it makes you shiver.Â
Your hands find their way into his curls, just tugging softly, hoping that it will lead him right where you want him. But Joel takes his timeâhis tongue drags over your sensitive skin, kissing one lip, then the other. He looks up at you and nods in approval when he finds your gaze already on him.Â
âDonât look away,â he reminds you before he spreads your legs even further and licks a broad stripe across your clit. Your grip on his hair tightens as pleasure sparks throughout your body.Â
He is gentle at first, spending time exploring your body. Joel listens to the kind of movements that make your breath hitch, watches for the ones that make your thighs shake. When his lips encircle your clit, sucking slightly, and your entire body jerks, he chuckles in satisfaction. The vibration travels up your spine, causing you to tilt your hips.Â
Joelâs hands rest on your hips, encouraging you to lock him in between your legs.
Soft gasps tumble from you, growing more and more desperate as he laps at your core, his spit and your slick mixing.Â
You feel your chest heaving as his tongue draws figure eights on your throbbing clit.Â
Lost in pleasure and the promise of him, you dip your head back into the pillows, moaning freely. You pull a little harder on his hair until he groans into your cunt.Â
You feel yourself stumbling closer to the edge, a second heartbeat coming to life between your legs. Warmth pools in your lower belly, and you almost taste the sweetness of relief until Joel pulls away suddenly.Â
âHeyââ his voice echoes through the room, âWhere are those eyes, darlinâ?â
You almost complainâyour entire body is on fire when you force your gaze to snap back to him. The corners of his mouth twitch, and his tongue parts your folds again.Â
âJoel,â you moan, so close to tasting the letters that make up his name. His grip on your hips tighten, firm enough that itâll surely leave you a reminder in the morning.Â
âI got you, baby,â he whispers before he goes back to circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. The sounds that filled the room were downright sacrilegiousâhis deep growls and your breathless whines mixing.Â
Stars explode behind your eyes as you come on his lips, your arousal slickening his chin. He laps relentlessly, working you through your release until heâs drawn out every aftershock he can get.Â
âThatâs it, pretty girl,â he praises softly, âLookinâ so pretty fâme when you cum.â Every part of you still pulses, oxytocin traveling through your bloodstream, as Joel pulls away.Â
His hands travel up to your stomach, holding you down gently before he leans in to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips, the sweetly tangy flavor blooming across your tongue.Â
Joel lets you catch your breath and tenderly kneads the flesh on your hip as you come down. Seeing you rendered speechless, Joel prompts, âHowâre ya feelinâ, sweetpea?â
You look for words to describe the cocktail of emotions coursing through your mind and end up with the weak recollection, âGreat.â
He chuckles, rather smug about himself. âYeah?â
You nod, then blink through the heavy haze of release still clouding your mind. âYeah,â you reply.
âGood,â he mumbles.
The mattress squeaks underneath you as he shifts his weight, and this time around, itâs your turn to stare. The bulge in Joelâs pants causes the saliva to collect in your mouth.Â
You reach blindly, fingers finding the edge of his jeans, but he stops you before you can pop the button.Â
âHey, easy does it,â he says, âWe donât gotta do any more today if you donât want to.â
You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. âI wouldnât be trying to get your pants off if I didnât want to keep going, would I?â
âSmartass.â
âRule number two, I tell you what I want, and you do it, right?â you tease, looking up at him hopefully.Â
âWell, I havenât heard you say what you want yet,â he counters.Â
You bite your bottom lip.Â
âI⌠I want you,â you stammer.Â
Joel raises his eyebrows, then cups your face between his rough hands. âYou got me, donât you?â
You glance at him pleadingly, but he shakes his head.Â
âWords, sweetpea. If you canât say it, you donât want it enough.â
You swallow your embarrassment and sit up. Slowly, your eyes find his before you say, âI want you to- to fuck me.â
He chuckles self-contentedly, then nods. âThere you go, darlinâ. If thatâs what you truly want, Iâll do it.â
Then he starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one. You feel the nerves prickling in your stomach, and you grow more restless with every sliver of skin he exposes. His jeans follow his shirt to the floor. Your mouth goes dry when his boxers dropâJoel is more than well-endowed.Â
He feels your stare and meets your eyes, the cockiness on his face making space for a much gentler expression.
âYouâll be fine,â he promises, âWeâll go slow.â
When your back hits the mattress, and you spread your legs to make space for Joel, he doesnât immediately follow. Instead, his eyes drift to the cherry-colored ribbon on the floor. A mischievous sparkle in his eyes, so unlike Joel, makes the butterflies in your stomach jump.Â
He reaches for it, then holds it up for you to see.
âYou got any idea how pretty this looked in your hair today?â he asks. âDrove me damn near insane.â
A bashful smile steals itself onto your face. âI found it in the sewing kit.â
âYou donât say,â he mutters. His eyes dart between you and the ribbon until his face grows almost apologetic. âWould ya wanna wear it? Now? Itâs been like a damn light signal, calling me in all day. Might as well have it with ya at the finish line.â
You nod slowly. As you lean forward, you expect Joel to fasten it at your hairline, but instead, he threads the headband under the lengths of your hair and then ties it around your neck. Not too tightâyou can breathe easily. You almost feel like a present wrapped to be unpacked.Â
Joel nods approvingly, his fingers resting at your collarbone, while he admires his handiwork. âReal pretty,â he murmurs.Â
With light pressure, he guides you back into the pillows, then chases your lips with his own. The kiss steals the breath right from your lungs, and you barely even notice it when his palm finds its place on your upper thigh. With his other hand, he fists his aching cock and guides himself through your soft folds, collecting your arousal. The pressure makes you squeal slightly, but Joel swallows any sound instantly, his lips never leaving yours. Then his bulbous tip nudges against your hole.Â
âDeep breath,â he instructs, right against your mouth, âAnd big stretch.â
You feel as if youâre being impaledâin a good way. The unfamiliar sensation of him splitting you open has your eyes rolling back, your fingers snapping up to wrap around his biceps tightly. Joel feels your breath ghost over his face as you gasp.Â
âEasy, kid,â he mumbles, âThatâs it. Youâre okay. Want me to rip off the band-aid?â
You shake your head instantaneously and say, âYou said weâd go slow. You saidââÂ
âMhm, yeah, I know, darlinâ, I know.âÂ
His jaw ticks with restraint as he rolls his hips just a little, advancing further into your warmth. You feel every vein decorating his cock; youâre sure heâll mold your walls to his exact shape in no time. The burn aches and stings, but the pressure underneath makes you want more. Your eyes find Joelâsâyours pleading and needy, his cool and collected.
A certain degree of smugness etches itself into his face as the hunger surfaces in your expression.Â
âYa ready?â he asks.Â
âYes, yes, please, Iââ
The first real thrust knocks the air out of your chest. Your fingernails dig into his arms, leaving red, half-moon-shaped marks on his skin as you feel the coarse hairs at Joelâs base meet your pelvis. Youâve never felt so full, stretched, and fed at the same time.Â
When he pulls back, his cock drags along the gummy spot on your ceiling, making you gasp as pleasure sparks and runs up your spine.Â
âHowâs that, pretty girl?âÂ
Joel holds your chin with his free hand, forcing your eyes to meet his own.Â
You can only nod, feeling the faint pain dissipate and turn into desire as he pushes back into you.Â
He chuckles and eases his grip on your chin.Â
âHow âbout some words, sweetheart?â he asks.Â
âItâs good, Joel, itâs⌠itâs so good. Please, I need more,â you answer, almost frantic in your desperation. Your hips buck up all on their own, pushing to meet his.Â
âSo you donât want it slow no longer?â he teases, still keeping still even as you writhe and pout.Â
âJoel,â you whine, âCâmon, please.â
He snorts softly, then nods. âWeâll work on those manners, darlinâ. But for now, youâre gettinâ off easy.â
While Joel finds his rhythm, listening for the spots that make your breath catch and your eyebrows knit together in pleasure, you feel the warmth begin to collect in your lower tummy. Even with your lips clamped together, you canât help the sounds that make their way out of youâsoft moans turn wilder, more eager, more uninhibited.
âThatâs it,â Joel praises, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, âWanna hear you, pretty girl. Donât you dare hide any of those sweet sounds.â
He fucks you deeper, the wet sounds of your cunt echoing sinfully through the room. Joelâs entire body is tight, running on pure adrenaline and need as his cock kisses your cervix. His deep grunts fill your ears, growing darker and more animalistic with every thrust.Â
He drags his fingers through your folds and finds your clit. The first circle he draws feels like pure energy, pulsing throughout your entire body from your core to your toes. His other hand surprises you. At first, you think he means to cup the back of your neck with his big palm, but instead, he threads his fingers between the red ribbon and your skin. The added pressure on your throat makes your head swim.Â
âThat okay?â he rasps, his eyes searching yours.Â
You nod almost instantly, feeling your walls flutter around him as the room grows quieter from the lack of oxygen. Joelâs eyes are glued to youâhe makes sure not to overdo it. He takes in every micro-expression as his fingers adjust the pressure on the satinâa little more, then a little less. He decides when you breathe and how much. And you love it.Â
 Youâre not sure what pushes you over the edge at the end: maybe itâs the constant pressure on your clit, or the way his cock fills you up until you feel him in your guts. Or maybe itâs the delightful sensation of your airway being controlled by him. Or maybe itâs the praise.
âLook so sweet, baby, lettinâ me ruin you like this,â he groans, âGod ainât forgivinâ me for this, but I bet ya will.â
â¤ď¸ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog â¤ď¸ â find my masterlist here â
Warnings!: Food play, Smut, MDNI, a bit praise kink, nicknames ( angel,baby, sweet girl) , daddy kink, age gap (50s and 20s) (not implied directly) eating out, breast play, slight domestic, slight pussy pronouns, kitchen counter smut,no cordyceps universe, already established relationship (not implied directly)
W.C: 1.5k words!
Summary: The day felt too long, so you figured youâd bake some sugar cookies!
Note: As promised heres an attempt to write food play fic! I had so much fun making this tehe, if anyone has any suggestions or requests, iâll be
ŕŹ(੠á )ââďž.*シ・ďž
ŕŹ(*. .)
ďżź Joel always loved whenever you cooked or cleaned for him, taking care of him and doting him, truly one of the things he loved about you and he always reciprocated back. And every so often you impulsively wanted to bake , the memories coming back, back to the days when you were a little girl begging your parents to let you help with any baking. Nowadays you baked pies, brownies, cakes or even sugar cookies. Â
Joel was out at work , and there were just some days you felt he was just gone for too long,  today was one of them. So you got to baking, you searched through the cabinets to spot if youâre missing anything that limits you from baking anything . You were missing cocoa , so you couldnât make brownies, and you didnât have any milk, so you thought of making sugar cookies, one of your favourite sugary sweets.Â
 You progressively made your cookies, firstly making the batter, skillfully adding all the ingredients, expertly doing it all not even needing the recipe from how many times you made these cookies. You then placed the dough in the fridge to cool it, and after about an hour you finally put the individually balled up batter on the cooking tray and then in the oven.Â
 As the cookies were baking, you started to work on the frosting, you added all the ingredients and you added a drop of red food colouring, the already white coloured frosting mixing with the small drop of red making the softest pink colour, which you always think adds a nice touch to the delicious sweet. And as you mix in the food colouring you hear the front door open, and you excitedly turn around from the counter, already knowing who it is. Â
âHey, Angel,â he greets and heads to the kitchen, and walks towards you. Â
âHi..â you smile and rush to hug him and see him.Â
His hands slid down to your waist holding you tightly, and then he rests his head on top of your own head, inhaling your sweet scent.Â
 âYou been baking, baby?â he breaks his hold , and walks over to the counters and hovers above the counter where you were making the frosting at.Â
 âYeah..got bored..â you say and chuckle and observe him as he grabs a bit of frosting with his finger and licks it , the action sending sparks up your spine causing you to feel a slight wet feeling between your thighs , making you blush a bit as he nods approvingly about the frosting.Â
âBest damn baker in the whole town, arenât you, angel,?â  he chuckles and turns towards you , his eyebrow arching , puzzled as to why you froze in place.Â
You stand still right there at the kitchen door, the air between you two feeling thick .You canât help but let your mind start to picture suggestive thoughts thinking of what you want Joel to do to you.Â
âWhatâs wrong, baby..?â he discloses lowly and plants his hands around your waist again as he leans his lower torso or back on the counter Â
âMmmm..â you mumble and he slowly starts to comprehend what you truly meant and want,Â
âDaddy licked the frosting you made and that got you wet, baby?â He states and scoffs.Â
âSweet girl..â he asserts lowly and chuckles, he holds your chin and tugs your face closer and kisses you. You reciprocate and shift closer to him and let him kiss you earnestly. He starts peppering your jawline with kisses till your neck leaving small bruises along his path , marking his territory as he does every night.Â
âGuess since daddy trying your frosting got you all wet, means i should eat more, huh?â He mumbles close to your ear,Â
âWha-?â you say unsure of what was going to happen, and unexpectedly Joel turns both of you around, your back now facing the counter, and he lifts you up and positions you on top of the counter and sets his lower torso between your legs , next to the bowl of frosting.Â
He strips you out of your top ,no room for discussion, and he takes a moment to stare at your hardened nipples. His chest rising and falling faster with every time his gaze falls on your chest, he pauses for a moment, the idea in his mind still being processing, and in a beat, grabs a dollop of frosting with his finger from the bowl placed next to you.Â
 You watch him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, he gently smears the frosting on your tits applying it neatly, you let out a small gasp and canât stop gaping at him as the cooling sensation hits you causing you to quiver, making the wetness between your thighs rapidly growing.Â
âNow, ainât this the sweetest dessert for daddy?â He says with a small chuckle, licking clean the frosting from his finger, debating whether to just bury his face in your frosting-covered nipples or to roughly squeeze them until you come for him or to take his time to enjoy you, and drag on your release wanting to tease you, ultimately choosing that option. He lowers himself, and he swirls his tongue on your left nipples making you loudly gasp and moan. He licks off the frosting from your breast in a slow manner, taking his time to taste the frosting and sucking your nipple. Â
âDaddyyâ you whimper, and press your legs together ,the wet spot on your underwear slowly increasing. Joel snickers from all your small responses and moves on to your right nipple, both nipples already hardened from the pleasure.Â
As you continuously moan and whimper  ,Joel finishes off licking all the frosting and canât help but look up at you and grin at you.  â¨Â Â
âGonna let daddy have some more, baby?â He asks you lowly, not being able to deny him in the slightest, knowing you need this as badly as he does and nod affirmatively.Â
âMy sweet girl, always wanting to please me, huh?â He asserts and chuckles. He gently lifts your hips up, to help you out of your shorts youâve been wearing letting it drop on to the floor, he then yanks off your wet underwear letting it all drop on the floor. Joel jerks open your legs , your bare pussy exposed to him, your juices glistening dripping all down. Joel hungrily stares at your exposed cunt,and letting the corners of his mouth jolt into a smile . And in no time he repeats his previous action with the frosting, this time on your pussy. Â
Joel overspreads your pussy with the use of his fingers again, this time not with just a dab but with more than a spoonful of frosting. Covering your cunt fully, making it fully hidden. The cooling sensation hitting you even harder this time, making your pussy throb and overflow with juices, mixing in with the frosting. Â
âFucckk, look at her, sweet girl..â He watches in awe and licks clean his fingers from the frosting,  â¨âSo embarrassing...â you mutter feeling vulnerableÂ
âSânot embarrassing, angel..â he grumbles, he lets his fingers settle on your chin, holding your face in place, he leans his face closer to yours , â¨âAinât ever seen a prettier thing than you, or her.â he murmurs for only you to hear.Â
He then lowers himself and crouches in front of you, just in front of your concealed pussy between your trembling open thighs, he yanks you forward to the edge of the counter and plants his hands on each of your leg to keep them open , he then starts slowly licking your cunt, simultaneously devouring the frosting.Â
âSâDelicious, angel,â he mumbles, licking your folds the mixture of the sweet frosting mixing with your cunts juices,. He takes his time sucking and teasing your clit and licking clean your sweet pussy, you let out various moans and almost shouting, âFucckâ, âDaddyyyâ letting them slip out your mouth, closing your eyes from all the pleasure.Â
You continue letting out your sweet moans and whimpers as Joel takes his sweet time eating you out ,your heartbeat rapidly increasing. He thrusts his tongue into you, curling and shoving in and out your firm hole. â¨âI cant-: You whimper and tremble, â¨âI canât hold itâ You groanÂ
âLet go for me, baby.â he commands as he ultimately pulls away from you and sucks on your clit instead, making you freeze in place , coming hard, forcing you to loudly moan  and gasp, your pussy pulsing on his tongue , and savouring every drop of your slick, making him groan against your cunt. He looks up at you and the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. â¨âTaste so good, baby..â He discloses and snickers as he gazes into you .As your chest rises and fall even faster now, continuing to maintain eye contact with him.Â
And just as soon as he straightens himself and settle his lower torso between your legs again to take care of you after your release , the timer for the cookies rings. Joel snorts and smiles,Â