Simp for fictional men

Hi, and welcome on my blog. Have fun reading my stuff and if you have any ideas slide in my requests.

Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

Ethan Landry

Behind the mask

Sick addiction

Fezco

I am free

Fiore ("Baby" Netflix)

Losen up

FP Jones

Young and lonely

JJ Maybank

Merman

Kendall Knight

Big Time Love Song

Mitch Rapp

Greenie

Nate Jacobs

Hurt 2 3 4

I care for you

Height difference

Soulmate

Stiles Stilinski

Safe and Sound

Sick Days

Thomas (The Maze Runner)

Future

Tyler Galpin

God needs the devil

The good in you

Void Stiles

Got you

Send requests!!!

Actually yes there is a part 4 🥰

Summary: You started hooking up with Ghostface a while ago, now he reveals his identity

Warnings: MDNI, smut, sex, oral sex, finger fucking, mention of blood, bad language, angst, English is not my first language, not proof read

Pairing: Gf!Ethan Landry x fem!reader

The blocked number had become your addiction. Every new location, every command, sent a sick thrill through your veins that muted the voice in your head telling you to stop.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know his face. You only knew the terrifying way your body craved the danger, the way you got wet the second you saw his messages light up your screen.

Tonight was no different. He sent you a location with a small text saying, “11:30. No panties, I want easy access when I bend you over.“

You obeyed. Of course you did.

Rain lashed your bare thighs under the oversized hoodie as you pushed open the side door of an abandoned building.

Ghostface stood tall in the center, in his black robe, and white mask that glowed under the light. The hunting knife dangled from his gloved fingers, still wet with blood.

You felt fear creeping up on you as you walked down the aisle, the cold air teasing your exposed private parts with every step. You stopped right in front of him, legs trembling, and slowly lifted your hoodie, showing him how obedient you were.

“Good girl. Already dripping down your thighs for me.” You heard his mocking voice, as he cupped your chin, with one of his gloved hands. The other slid under the hoodie, two thick fingers dragging through your soaked folds before pushing inside you without warning.

You gasped, knees buckling as he curled them deep.

“So fucking wet,” He growled, looking down at you, “You touch yourself thinking about this? About a masked stranger who could slit your throat while he fucks you?”

You nodded desperately, hips rocking against his hand. He pumped his fingers faster, thumb circling your clit, as your moans echoed through the empty building.

When your walls started fluttering, he pulled his hand away, “Not yet.”

He shoved you onto your back on a nearby table, the wood rough against your skin. He yanked up your hoodie, before spreading your legs wide, mask tilting as he stared down at your dripping cunt.

“Please,“ You let out a quiet moan.

“Please what?“

“Please, I wanna feel you inside me.“

Without saying anything else he hovered over you, robe parting just enough to free his thick cock. He stroked himself a few times then lined up and slammed it inside you in one brutal thrust.

You let out a scream, nails digging into his shoulders through the fabric as he started fucking you. He kept one hand on your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, while the other rubbed your clit in circles.

“Look at you,” His mask inches from your face, “Getting fucked by Ghostface in some abandoned place like the pathetic little slut you are.“

You gasped between moans, legs wrapping around his waist, not caring about a word he said.

He let out a small chuckle, picking up his speed. When he pinched your clit, you shattered, squirting all over his dick.

He groaned,as he buried himself even deeper, before flooding you with hot, thick cum.

He stayed inside you, mask resting against your forehead. And all of a sudden he reached up with both gloved hands and pulled the mask off.

Ethan Landry. The shy guy from Econ you have never talked to before.

Your heart stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan whispered, “I tried to stay away, but after I saw you for the first time I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. I told myself I would only watch, but I needed more. I needed to touch you. To taste you. To hear you moan my name without even knowing it was me.”

Tears burned down your cheeks. You felt him twitch inside you, still half-hard, his cum slowly leaking out.

“You‘re a monster,“ Your hands fisted in his robe, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer, “I hate you.“

Ethan smiled, rolling his hips to push his cum deeper inside of you.

“No you don’t,” he murmured against your lips, “You’re going to keep letting me fuck you, because now you know exactly whose cock has been ruining you for weeks. And next time, I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

Summary: After you got a call from ghostface, things started to get more and more bloody, until the big reveal in an old theatre.

Warnings: Mention of death, mention of blood, violence, English is not my native language, not proof readen

Pairing: Boyfriend!Ethan Landry x reader

The first time Ghostface called your phone, you were curled up on Ethan's chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his fingers drawing warm circles on your hip. Everything was perfect until your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

You ignored it at first, not wanting to ruin the moment the two of you shared. After a few rings, you let out a small huff before grabbing your phone.

"Unknown number," you said, looking at Ethan, a shiver running down your spine.

"Probably spam. Ignore it," He murmured, voice low and sleepy.

Regardless, you answered the phone, and heavy breathing immediately filled the line, "What's your favorite scary movie?"

Your blood turned cold, "Who the hell is this?"

A low chuckle crackled through the speaker, "You know who this is, Y/n. Tell me, does your little boyfriend know how loud you scream when you're scared?"

The phone felt heavy in your shaking hand. The only thing you could hear was your own pulse.

Ethan reached for the phone, eyes wide in the low light, but you held it tight, unable to move.

The voice dropped to a whisper, "See you soon, Y/n." Then the line went dead.

Ethan pulled you back down against him immediately, arms wrapping around you tightly, "Hey, it's probably just some asshole screwing around. Happens all the time." His voice was steady, but you felt his pulse racing against your cheek. His fingers stroked your hair, gently.

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but after what had happened to Sam and Tara, you just couldn't.

———

A few days later, the apartment attack happened. You survived by pure luck, heart hammering so hard you thought it would burst.

As you sat in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around you and mascara all over your face, Ethan showed up, looking pale and shaken.

"I am so sorry, baby." He kissed your head, hugging you tight.

He had texted you a few hours ago, apologizing for not being at your little get-together since he had an important Econ class.

The moment the others saw him, they jumped to conclusions right away, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I had Econ," Ethan said quickly, eyes wide, "Study hall with like a hundred other people. You can ask any of them."

It seemed they bought it, and you wanted to believe it too.

———

The following days were a haze of grief and paranoia. You barely slept. Every shadow in the hallway made your heart race. You didn't even go out anymore, isolating yourself more and more from your friends.

Your boyfriend became your only anchor. He showed up at your dorm every evening with cheap takeout and quiet company, sitting on the edge of your bed while you stared at the wall. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give. Instead, he would pull you into his lap, wrap his arms around you, and hold you until the trembling stopped, as he whispered, "I've got you."

———

The rain was pouring when you met the others outside the theater. Your hoodie was soaked, makeup already a little smudged from the walk, but you didn’t care. The fear had turned into anger by now. You were done hiding in your dorm, done letting the calls and the nightmares win. Sam’s voice on the phone had been steady when she called you an hour ago, “We have a lead. Meet us at the old theater on 42nd. We end this tonight."

The old theater smelled of dust and dried blood. Flickering projector light cast long shadows across walls lined with Ghostface masks and relics. Your footsteps echoed loudly as Sam, Tara, and you moved cautiously through the space.

Out of a sudden, Detective Bailey emerged from the darkness, his voice ringing out cold as he laid out the sick revenge plan.

Richie’s death, Sam’s fault, family first.

Then two Ghostface figures stepped forward into the harsh beam of light.

The first mask came off slowly, revealing Quinn. Alive, eyes wild, lips curled in a vicious grin.

Your heart slammed against your chest.

The second figure raised gloved hands and lifted the mask with deliberate care.

Curly hair, damp with sweat. Those soft brown eyes you had memorized in the dark, now filled with heavy guilt. Ethan stood there, knife still in his hand, blood already drying on the blade.

“Ethan?” Your voice came out small and broken.

Quinn burst out laughing, “Oh my God, look at him. Still making those pathetic puppy eyes at her. Pathetic.”

Ethan flinched at her words, he looked at you with guilt and shame written all over his face, “You weren‘t supposed to happen, but I feel for you and I tried my best to keep you out of this. Please you have to believe me,“ His voice was desperate.

Quinn snorted, “Couldn’t stop it? You’re weak, Ethan. Always have been. Richie would’ve laughed in your face.”

Bailey shook his head, disappointed. “Blood is blood, don’t forget that.”

You started crying, silent tears running down your cheeks.

Ethan looked back at you, eyes heavy with guilt, “That’s why I begged them to leave you alone, but they are my family. Richie was my brother and Sam took him from us.”

Ethan’s voice dropped even lower, meant only for you, “I need you to run, I will try to hold them off.”

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, the one holding the knife, “Then come with me.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes just searched yours, torn.

Then Tara’s voice cut through, “Ethan!”

But it was too late the blade sank deep into his side. Ethan gasped sharply, staggering forward into your arms. Hot blood poured over your hands as you caught him, before both of you sank to the dusty floor.

“That‘s what you get for betraying your family.“ You looked up, seeing Quinn with a maniacal smile on her face. As she was about to open her mouth once more, Same already lunged at her pushing her to the ground.

You quickly focused back on your boyfriend, Ethan, please, stay with me.”

His breathing was getting shallower. He looked up at you one last time, eyes heavy with guilt and exhaustion, “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Then his eyes fluttered shut.

The fight around you slowly died down. Sam and Tara finished Quinn and Bailey. Kirby stood nearby, breathing hard.

You stayed right there on the floor in the dust and blood, rocking slightly as you held him, crying quietly into his hair long after his chest stopped moving. The boy who had been your only safe place in all this chaos was gone, even if he was one of the killers all the time, you couldn‘t care less in that very moment.

Someone eventually pulled you away and you didn’t fight them. You just let them lead you out of the theater, your hands still covered in his blood, your tears still falling.

Summary: Chiara and Ludo take you to the club

Warnings: You are an adult, use of alcohol, not proof readen

Pairing: Fiore x reader

Chiara and you shared a strong bond since you where her best friend and seemed like the most sane person in the whole universe.

The two of you were slightly different. She seemed to be the perfect girl on the outside but was quite the opposite when it came to her thoughts and actions. You on the other hand knew how to keep out of trouble and keep your private life to yourself. No social media account, no posted pictures or stories.

“Just come with us today, it’s fun to losen up a little.” Your sister smiled at you, trying to hype you up.

“I won’t support this, Chiara. You behave strangely since a few weeks.” You told her.

She rolled her eyes, “Come on, don’t be like that.”

You let out a sigh, “The answer is till no.”

“Just come to the club for a bit of fun.” She looked at you with pleading eyes and after a few seconds of trying to resist you failed miserably.

And that’s exactly how you found yourself in some weird club on a Wednesday night, wearing a sparkling dress, more make up then usually and your hair down.

You danced with Chiara and Ludo and had a few drinks. While trying to forget everything for one in your life, you didn’t know how dangerous the place you are in actually was.

After what seemed like hours you sat down on a bar chair, your friends heading to the bathroom.

“You are friends with Chiara and Ludovica?” A voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head, facing one of the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on, “Y-yeah. Why?”

“I am Fiore, also a friend of them.” He introduced himself.

“Y/n, pleasure.” You shook his hand slightly, before looking down once more.

“How old are you if you don’t mind me asking?” Fiore asked.

You looked at him, “Eighteen.”

Pleased with your answer he gave you a charming smile and as he was about to say another thing, Chiara and Ludo appeared behind him.

“Y/n, I need your help. I have forgotten my lipstick at home, can I use yours.” Ludo asked you a little too rushed, but you just nodded.

She took your hand and pulled you away before you can say anything else. The only thing you saw as you turned around for a second was Chiara taking a place where you sat before.

“Fiore is one of your friends?” You asked, while she put on the lipstick you just handed her.

Slowly she looked at you, “Listen, Y/n, he is not a nice guy. He kind of owns that club, and he has some dirty business going on.”

“So, why do you know him?” You asked carefully.

She sighted, “He just knows the people who are in his club often, that’s it. Now let’s go dancing again.”

You wanted to believe her, your really did, but something in you was telling you not to.

Since you came back from their Vienna show, how about a nice one-shot about the TV verse boys after a concert?

After the show -Big Time Rush

A.N; Thank you so much for your idea. I hope I wrote it just as well as you imagined. Since you didn't say which of the boys should be the main character here, I decided to generalise this fic.

Warning: Fluff, chaos, English is not my first language.

You were still buzzing from the concert. Your voice was wrecked, your hair a mess, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. But the boys had been wild tonight, and you loved every minute of their concert.

The backstage hall smelled like sweat, deodorant, and leftover pizza.

Slowly, you made your way to the boys' dressing room, a big smile on your face when James' voice interrupted your thoughts, “Guys, where did I put my shirt?”

He stumbled out of the dressing room wearing glittery pants and no shirt, hair still perfectly combed.

“Why would your shirt be anywhere except on you?” Kendall sighed, passing by with a towel around his neck.

James gasped, rolling his eyes slightly, “Kendall, please. Don’t pretend you understand anything about fashion.”

You let out a small laugh, which finally caught James's attention.

“Y/n, you’re here! Wait a second, I can’t meet a fan looking like a Greek god with no shirt–actually wait, yes I can.” James gave you his usual grin.

“Oh, so now I am just a fan?” You asked, slightly offended.

James quickly shook his head, which had you laughing once more, when someone nudged your elbow from behind.

Logan.

His hair was damp from a quick shower, falling into his forehead, “You survived the front row?”

“Barely,” you joked, “I think I lost a rib.”

“Yeah, our fans can get intense,” He chuckled, “I saw you singing along, though. It seemed like you had fun.”

Your heart skipped a tiny bit.

Before you could say anything, Carlos slid between you two, “Hey, Yn, want a helmet?”

“Thanks, Carlos. I am good.” You smiled at him.

“Safety first in the post-concert danger zone!” He held the helmet out for you.

“There is no danger zone–” Logan started, but was quickly interrupted by a crashing sound.

Something fell down in the dressing room.

Carlos pointed at the door dramatically, “DANGER. ZONE.”

Kendall groaned from inside the room, where he and James had disappeared a few hours ago, “James, why is your shirt in the mini-fridge?”

James yelled back, “Because cold fabric is good for your skin, Kendall!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Logan leaned toward you, voice low, “I am telling you, after the show is way more exhausting than during the show.”

You couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Before you could say anything, James burst out of the dressing room, now fully dressed, prancing dramatically, “Told you I look stunning. Y/n, you understand fashion, rate this outfit from one to ten.”

You played along, face more serious once more, “Nine. You lose one point for putting your shirt in the fridge.”

James gasped, clutching his heart, “Logan, help me. Clearly, she has never read one of those beauty magazines before.”

Logan smirked, “She’s not wrong, though.”

Kendall quickly walked over with a slice of cold pizza, “Guys. Focus. We didn’t invite Y/n back here to scare her away instantly.”

Logan nudged your shoulder, “Wanna hang out with us a little longer, letting us prove we can be a little more normal?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” You smiled at him warmly.

James’ eyes widened, a grin on his face, “Y/N picked us over going home. I knew we were irresistible.”

Kendall rolled his eyes, “Dude, calm down.”

Carlos jumped up, taking out his phone, “GROUP SELFIE!”

Suddenly, you were pulled into the middle of the four boys.

James angled his jaw dramatically.

Carlos threw up peace signs.

Kendall smiled like he was the only sane one.

Logan stood beside you, your shoulders slightly touching, smiling softly.

The camera clicked.

Summary: You are new to the Palm Woods, and Kendall seems to fall for you the moment he lays his eyes on you.

Warnings: Fluff, little spoiler, English is not my first language

Pairing: Kendall Knight x reader

You arrived at the Palm Woods on a warm L.A. afternoon with a duffel bag and no idea about how chaotic your life is going to be.

You didn’t get ten steps into the lobby before a boy wearing a helmet nearly crashed into a decorative plant right before your eyes.

“CARLOS! STOP SKATING INDOORS!” A blond boy shouted as he ran after him, two other guys following.

After a few seconds, you remembered why they looked so familiar to you – on the way here, you saw a picture of them in one of those girls' magazines.

Kendall slowed down when he saw you and smiled, pushing his hair away from his forehead in a charming way.

“Sorry about him,” He said, nearly out of breath, “He thinks gravity is optional.”

Carlos waved at you from the floor, “Welcome to the Palm Woods!”

You laughed a little, waving back, “Thanks, I like your helmet, it suits you.”

“Are you new?” Kendall asked, bringing your attention back to him once more.

“Yeah, just arrived.” You smiled at him.

“I’m Kendall. That’s Logan and James–” He started to introduce himself and the others.

“Hi,” Logan smiled politely, while James winked at you.

“And… Carlos,” Kendall finished, as Carlos gave you two thumbs up.

You smiled at all of them, “Nice to meet you, Big Time Rush, right?”

“That’s us,” Kendall mumbled, “And let me guess, you’re an actor.”

“What gave it away?” You laughed, looking around the lobby.

“Everyone who moves in here is either an actor, a model, a singer, or someone’s fame-obsessed parent.” He explained, with a small chuckle.

You giggled before excusing yourself, ready to move into your new apartment. As you walked to the elevator, you didn’t notice the way Kendall looked after you.

– – – – –

The next few days, you happened to see them over and over again. They were quite fun to hang out with, and you started to feel comfortable around them.

When you walked to the pool area with your script in one hand and a smoothie in the other, you saw Kendall sitting by the pool, staring at his notebook like it personally betrayed him.

“Hey,” You said, stepping closer, “Everything okay?”

His head snapped up, and his cheeks went a little red.

“Totally,” He muttered, his voice cracking halfway through, “It’s just this stupid love song we have to write.”

“Writer’s block?” You asked, sitting down next to him.

“More like a love block,” he sighed, “Apparently, to write a love song, you need to be in love.”

You laugh, “Is that scientifically proven?”

“According to Logan, yes.” Kendall tried to joke, but he looked frustrated and a little lost.

“Well, maybe you don’t have to be in love with a person. You could write about how you want love to feel.” You gave him a small smile.

He looked at you, the tension in his face slowly fading.

“How do you think love feels?” He asked.

You shrugged, shyness suddenly taking over you, “Warm. Safe. Like someone sees you even when everyone else is looking past you.”

Kendall’s eyes softened, like you said something he didn’t know he needed to hear.

He was about to say something when Logan appeared out of nowhere, “Are you writing a love song about someone? Is it Y/n?”

Kendall nearly fell into the pool, “No! No, just go away, Logan!”

He wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing again.

“Sorry about him.” He mumbled, not able to look into your eyes.

“Don’t worry, just don’t give up on your writing. I am sure it will be amazing,” You stood up, sharing a small smile with him, “I will see you around.”

– – – – –

A few days later, you were on your way to their apartment when you heard voices just before you were about to knock.

“So, who’s your song about?” You heard James ask.

“His smile at this notebook is suspicious,” Carlos answered.

“Maybe he’s in love,” Logan whispered next.

“I am not in love! I just wrote something good, okay? And it’s all because of –” Kendall suddenly stopped talking, and you could feel yourself freeze.

“Because of who?” James asked eagerly.

Kendall hesitated a little before finally answering, “Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your chest.

Carlos gasped. So loudly the entire Palm Woods probably heard it, “Oh my god, he’s in love with Y/n.”

“I didn’t say that,” Kendall protested, clearly panicking, “She just helped me and she’s nice. And she has a cute laugh.”

You knocked before he could continue, pretending you heard nothing.

“H-hey,” He stammered as he opened the door.

You smiled softly, “Logan said he had audition notes for me.”

Logan quickly handed them to you, not saying anything, just staring at you like the other boys.

“Bye, guys.” You mumbled, leaving as quickly as possible.

The whole day, you thought about the conversation you overheard. When you were finally able to review your audition notes, you saw that some were missing.

After a big sigh, you stood up, making your way over to their apartment once more.

As you walked through the hallway, you suddenly heard Kendall singing softly inside the guys’ apartment.

It was soft and gentle, and it made your heart skip a beat.

Without thinking, you opened the door. Kendall immediately stopped singing, his eyes wide as he met your gaze.

“Is that the love song?” You whispered.

He swallowed, clearly ashamed, “Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful.” You smiled, taking a step closer.

He looked down at his guitar, “It’s not done yet.”

You could feel your heart beating, quickening, “Who’s it about?”

Slowly, his eyes met yours, “You.”

The word seemed to stop at that very moment, and it was like you weren’t in control of your body anymore as you took a step closer.

“Kendal –” You started as he stood up.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” He murmured, “But everything feels so easy when I am around you, and I think about you a lot.”

You exhaled, “I think about you too.”

He looked down at you, his eyes filled with desire as he leaned down a little, “Can I kiss you?”

You just nod.

And that was all it needed for Kendall to cup your cheek gently before his lips met yours in a slow kiss.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling.

“I guess the love song won’t be a problem anymore,” He whispered.

Summary: You visit Tyler after he was brought to Willow Hill

Warning: Spoilers Season 2, English is not my first language, not proof read

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x reader

The air in the cell block smelled like metal and despair. Cold lights flickered as you stood outside his fortified cell at Willow Hill, staring at him through the bulletproof glass.

Tyler Galpin. Once the soft-spoken barista with deep green eyes. Now he looked broken. His hair was damp, his pants low, showing off his toned body, scares and marks on him that you‘ve never seen before.

Tyler didn’t meet your gaze at first. He stared at the gnarled claw marks he carved into the concrete wall during one of his violent outbursts.

“You're here,” He finally said with a low voice.

You nodded, throat tight, “I couldn’t stay away.”

He turned slowly, the heavy chain around his wrists catching in the dim light. His eyes swept over you — not with tenderness, but with recognition that hurt.

“You should have stayed away,” Tyler let out a small whisper, “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

Of course you knew. Everybody knew.

You pressed your forehead against the glass, breath fogging the barrier, “Of course I know and I won‘t leave you alone with it.“

You closed your eyes, heart pounding.

“Why?” His voice slightly cracked, “Why are you still here?”

Your lip trembled. You thought of all the broken things you’d ever held close and Tyler was one of them.

“Because the Tyler I know is still in there,” you said softly.

He laughed—a broken, terrified sound, “Don’t lie. I don‘t need your pity.”

But you didn’t lie.

He had been abused, groomed, tortured, brainwashed to become a monster.

“I can remember the nights we stayed up and talked about useless stuff or how you made me coffee whenever I visited you,” You murmured, voice catching on the memory, “You were kind and funny.”

For a flinch of a heartbeat, that boy-next-door spark returned, before he snarled, turning away, his knuckles white against the cold glass.

“If I get out of here, you will be dead,” He spat.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you reached out, your palm flush to the glass against his, “And you will be saved if I stay.”

He closed his eyes. The moment he was about to say something, you heard voices. Someone was coming.

Tyler pushed away, turning his back to you. The fragile moment, long gone.

“I won’t forget you,” You told him with a steady voice.

He didn‘t respond.

You gave him one last look before leaving him alone.

Summery: You will stay by Tyler‘s side no matter what

Warnings: Toxic relationship, English is not my first language, not proof read

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x fem!reader

You used to think Tyler was nothing but a nice guy, working in a coffee shop, greeting you with his most charming smile whenever you two were together. But the truth was he wore his darkness like a second skin, stitched together with smiles too sharp and apologies that always came too late.

And still, you stayed. You wanted to believe his lies. You wanted to believe he was nothing but nice. You wanted to believe he was perfect.

You told yourself it was because you saw something different, some flicker of softness in the way his hands shook when he touched yours, or how his voice cracked when he whispered your name like a confession.

But the truth was you were already draw to his darkness. Drawn to the monster inside of him.

The rain hadn’t stopped all night. It tapped against the window of Tyler‘s room in slow, uneven rhythms, the kind of sound that made everything feel heavier. The lamp on his nightstand leaving the corners in shadow. You sat cross-legged on his bed, your fingers twisted in the hem of your sleeve, watching Tyler pace the room like a caged animal.

His hair was damp, falling into his eyes, and his shirt clung to his shoulders from where the rain had soaked through earlier. He looked wrecked, like the storm outside had crawled under his skin and settled there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” He muttered, voice raw, not looking at you. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, as if he was holding back something.

You swallowed hard, but your body didn’t move, “Then tell me to leave.”

He sat down beside you suddenly, the mattress dipping, his shoulders trembling with a weight he couldn’t put into words. When his hand found yours, it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate, tight, like he was scared you’d disappear if he let go.

“You don’t understand what I’ve done,” He whispered, breath hot against your cheek as he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours.

Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you never would. But in that moment, with the rain crashing harder against the glass and his voice breaking like confession, you made your choice.

You carefully cup his face, forcing him to look at you, “And I don‘t need to,“ that was all he needed to hear before crashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was hungry. And when his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in until you couldn’t breathe, you knew this wasn’t salvation, but surrender.

And you gave yourself to it anyway, because maybe, just maybe, you were never meant to save him.

Summery: You have an intimate moment with your friends father during a party

Warnings: Age Gap, Reader is not underaged, fluff, English is not my first language, not proof read

Pairing: DILF!Rafe Cameron x Naive!reader

The party inside was loud, muffled bass vibrating through the Cameron house walls, but out by the pool it was quiet. Almost too quiet. The water glowed turquoise under the string lights, your legs swaying slowly as you sat on the edge. You liked the calm. You liked being away from the noise.

But you weren’t alone.

Rafe Cameron, your friend‘s father, had been watching you all night. You’d felt it before you saw it—those sharp blue eyes, lingering a second too long every time you crossed paths. He wasn’t like the boys your age, all clumsy grins and cheap beer. He was older, collected, carrying himself with the kind of authority that made everyone else fade into the background.

And when he finally walked over to where you sat, you felt the shift in the air.

“You’re missing the fun,” He said, voice low, almost teasing.

You glanced up, pretending to be unfazed, “I like it better out here.”

“Of course you do.” He smirked, setting his glass down on the stone ledge and lowering himself beside you.

For a moment, the only sound was the ripple of the pool. Then his voice cut through again, softer this time, “You’re not like the others.”

You blinked at him, uncertain, “What do you mean?”

His gaze dragged over you slowly, deliberately, before meeting your eyes again, “Too sweet.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it as a compliment or a weakness. Maybe both.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” You said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not bad,” he murmured, “It’s just… dangerous.”

Your stomach flipped, the weight of his words pressing into you, “Dangerous?”

He tilted his head, a slow smirk tugging at his lips, “You don’t realize what someone could do with a girl like you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the loud music from inside disappeared. It was just the two of you. The humid night air, the glow of the water, and the unspoken tension pulling you closer to a line you shouldn’t cross.

“Mr. Cameron-” His name left your lips before you could stop it, fragile and uncertain.

He swirling the amber liquid in his glass, „Rafe is fine,” He said, voice smooth, laced with amusement, “Besides, I'm not gonna bite. Not unless you ask.”

The words made your pulse quicken, heat creeping up your cheeks. You should have gotten up, gone inside, blended back into the safety of the crowd. But you didn’t. You stayed, legs still in the water, heart thudding like it wanted to escape your chest.

And Rafe knew.

He let the silence stretch, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to break it. When you finally looked away, pretending to study the ripples in the pool, he chuckled low under his breath.

“You’re too easy to read,” He said.

“I’m not,” You argued softly, though you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him again.

He leaned closer then, not enough to touch but enough that you felt his breath graze your cheek. “You are. That’s why you shouldn’t be out here with me.”

Your head snapped toward him, words caught on your tongue, but his gaze held you in place.

From inside, his son‘s laugh carried through the open sliding door. The rest of the party was still going, unaware of what was unfolding outside. You swallowed hard, fingers twisting in your lap.

“I should-” You started, though you didn’t move.

“You should go,” Rafe finished for you, his voice low, deliberate. His eyes dropped briefly to your lips before flicking back up, “But you won’t.”

Your chest tightened. He was right—you weren’t moving. You didn’t want to.

And when his hand finally reached out, brushing against yours on the stone ledge, you felt the spark travel up your arm, leaving you breathless. His touch wasn’t rough, wasn’t demanding.

“You’re too sweet for your own good,” He murmured, almost like a warning. But the way his thumb ghosted over your knuckles told you he didn’t really want you to listen.

You knew you’d leave this house changed, carrying the memory of his eyes, his words, the weight of his touch.