luv, its fiction

☾

You didn’t 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 didn’t 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. It’s not like he would ever actually be interested in you, so you saw no harm in indulging in silly fantasies.

…but 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 girls—skinnier 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.

“We’re about to head back to John B.’s for the night,” 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 wasn’t related to him, and so she might be able to sympathize with why you couldn't just see him as some asshole. 

And he was certainly an asshole.

There was never any wool over your eyes about that. You’d 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 couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse, but that indecisiveness didn’t last much longer as you later came to the conclusion that it was indeed a curse.

A curse you could no longer live with.

“This is so stupid,” Sarah laughed one night, flipping through the book Kie had thrifted. “Look, look, this is one for how to get rich.”

“It’s not like you need that one,” the dark-haired girl teased, snatching it back.

“Neither do you,” 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 y’all flipped to, and you didn’t join in right away as she laughed again.

“Look at this one,” she grinned, facing the pages towards Sarah. “A love spell!”

Sarah found it just as funny, taking the book and smiling at the page.

“Are you and John B. having any problems?” Kie joked.

“Are you and JJ having any problems?” she threw back, tone just as light. “...because now we know how to fix any.”

You were quiet as you took the book from the blonde, looking over it as Kie stood over your shoulder.

“Huh,” she commented. “It’s surprisingly simple. A little blood, their name on some paper, and a red candle and boom!”

“Sounds too easy to be true,” Sarah replied, taking the book back with a sigh. “You think they have one in here for a fat ass?”

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 Kie’s comment. You’d read it yourself, and it was surprisingly simple—easy to do—and it wasn’t like you’d 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 couldn’t you try some silly little love spell?

Worst case scenario, nothing came of it.

It’s not like that would be some devastating loss for you. Rafe already didn’t notice you, and it wouldn’t hurt you if he continued to not notice you. You’d learned to live with it for years, now, and it’s 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.

“If my hair is down to my butt in two weeks, I owe you twenty dollars, Kie.”

Kie responded with something you couldn’t quite make out, your attention on your phone as you flipped through the book she’d left on the couch. They were none the wiser as you took a picture, telling yourself there was a chance you wouldn’t 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 couldn’t 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 weren’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t know why. It’s not like anyone was around to witness this, but you would be lying if you said your desperation didn’t make you feel just a tad pathetic. Either way, it’s 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 Rafe’s 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 weren’t 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 world…and 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 didn’t exist. You believed in energy and faith backed actions, but you didn’t think you believed in magic. Either way, telling yourself it was pure curiosity, you held the piece of paper over the flame.

“We’re looking for John B.,” Sarah told you with a sigh. “Pope drank too much, so we gotta call it a night.”

“I think he was in the kitchen,” you let her know. 

“Can you check the backyard just in case he had to pee or something? I’ll text you if I find him so we can go.”

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 wasn’t hard to see pretty quickly that he wasn’t 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.

“Woah,” he drunkenly said, having almost run into you. “Someone’s on a mission.”

You were stumped.

Not once had Rafe Cameron ever spoken to you—not even a word—and you couldn’t 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.

“You good?”

Acknowledging that you needed to speak and that you probably looked all kinds of unwell, you blinked.

“I..I’m sorry, I… What?”

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.

“I said are you good,” he slowly repeated.

“Yeah,” you hurried to reply, not wanting to look any more foolish in front of him. “Sorry. My friend…he’s kind of not feeling good, and I’m just trying to round everybody up.”

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.

“Sarah drink too much?”

You frowned at him, and you felt confused. You and Sarah were friends, but you didn’t know that he knew that. You didn’t even know that he knew you knew her. Your silence must have stretched on for too long because he was speaking again.

“You are one of her little friends, right?”

For the second time that night, you were stumped.

“Yeah…I am,” you slowly told him, hurrying to defend Sarah after you processed what he said. “...and no. We’re looking for someone else.”

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 you’d had a whole conversation with him.

“You don’t seem like the partying type.”

Make that two.

“What?” you wondered, facing him again.

You watched smoke swirl between his lips for a while before he exhaled.

“You don’t seem like the partying type,” he repeated. “You seem like you’d rather have your head in a book somewhere.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that so you simply said:

“I can’t like both?”

Rafe’s only response was a slow smile, and something about it made your stomach twist—in both a good and bad way. Before he could say anything else thoguh—and before you could further embarrass yourself—you heard your name being called. It sounded like Sarah, and giving Rafe one last look, you ran off to find her.

It turns out she’d texted you that she found John B., and you’d been so distracted by Rafe that you hadn’t felt the vibration. You were distracted by him for the rest of the night in fact, even as you rubbed Pope’s back as he threw up in the toilet. Rafe Cameron had talked to you, and it still didn’t feel real. If you didn’t know any better, you’d 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 wouldn’t be in the form of some spell done by some silly nineteen year old girl. That’s 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.

“I just wanted to do the old fashioned and respectful thing…”

You stood in the living room with your lips parted, looking over your father’s shoulder as he faced the blond—the 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 mother’s gaze as she looked at you in confusion.

“Well, that’s…that’s very admirable of you, Rafe.”

When your father turned to you, you didn’t need to be a genius to see that Rafe’s 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.

“We’ll be on the porch,” 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.

“It’s old school, I know, but…” he shrugged at you. “My ego can’t take not being liked by your parents.”

“Rafe, what are you doing?”

You jumped right to it, voicing your confusion and uncertainty and questioning his actions.

“Asking you out,” he said like it was obvious.

It was.

“Why?” you wondered, a deep frown between your brows.

“...because I want to take you out.”

Again, he said it like it was obvious.

“Why? We’ve had two conversations, including this one,” you reminded him.

“...and I can’t want to change that?” 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 wasn’t like Rafe, at all, and you’d watched him enough to know. The entire thing was strange and unsettling, and you almost wanted to reject him but… Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hadn’t you watched Rafe for years just wishing that he would see you? Talk to you? Hadn’t you fantasized to have him look at you as he was currently looking at you?

Hadn’t you bled for that wish?

The thought that that silly little spell actually worked made your head spin, and even still, you didn’t want to believe it. There just had to be some other explanation, but nothing else made any sense. Didn’t this bring his consent in the matter into question? Wasn’t this beyond ethically bankrupt? Did you care?

It was wrong, so wrong, because deep down you knew where all of this was coming from. You’d 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 couldn’t you for five minutes?

You bit your lip and tightened your grip on the flowers.

“Okay,” you whispered, lifting your gaze. “I’ll go out with you.”

The look on Rafe’s face was one you’d wanted to see for ages, and any guilt that you felt was forgotten as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek.

Rafe’s 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 couldn’t believe it.

Sarah had said something similar only days earlier.

“I don’t believe this,” she’d scoffed. “You and Rafe are going on a date?”

“He asked and I said yes. It happened so fast that I didn’t even consider how it might make you feel until after,” you’d honestly told her.

If all of this was really the result of some stupid book, you didn’t want to sell any more of your soul by being a bad friend too. You’d 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.

“If this is what you want, what can I even say, you know? I didn’t even know you liked him like that,” she murmured to herself. “Although I suppose I can see why you never said anything.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

“I don’t know if okay is the right word, but…” she shrugged. “I can’t tell you or him what to do.”

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 you’d 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.

“I don’t want to take you home just yet,” he’d murmured outside of the restaurant, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You hadn’t wanted to go home just yet either, not wanting this night to end.

“Okay.”

…and 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 you’d been kissing him. His tongue tasted the inside of your mouth and his hand was on your jaw. Every so often you’d lift your hips and he’d groan against your lips. Two weeks ago you had never said one word to him, and now here you were.

Rafe’s 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 couldn’t 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.

“It’s getting late…”

Your words didn’t affect Rafe none, and you gasped when he nipped at the top of your chest.

“Rafe,” 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 weren’t used to.

“I think I should head home, now.”

He stared at you for too long to be comfortable, but he eventually moved.

“You want to go home?” 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 didn’t 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 you’d 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.

You’d looked at him in a mixture of awe and worry. You should’ve 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 weren’t some horrible person, and you told yourself that you’d enjoy this for a little while longer before finding a way to undo what you’d done.

Rafe Cameron was your boyfriend, and you liked it.

You didn’t 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 would’ve 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.

…and the girls.

You liked the way they looked at you.

It didn’t take long for Rafe’s exclusiveness to become noticeable, for it to become apparent that the once ladies’ 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 you’d ever seen in your life. You knew that if any of those girls had access to the kind of magic you had, you would’ve 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.

“I won’t lie…I definitely expected this to crash and burn,” Sarah admitted. “Through no fault of yours, of course.”

Kie snorted at that, and you took a sip of your drink.

“I’m serious,” she said, “He’s like a completely different person. Part of me wants to ask what you did, but another part of me is scared of the answer.”

Her and Kie thought that was funny, and you could only hold back your smile.

“He literally worships the ground you walk on,” Kie commented, slightly disgusted. “...and that’s the only reason the guys are even respectful about any of this.”

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 hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, telling yourself it was a line you just couldn’t 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.

“I’ve never…” you had trailed off, somewhat embarrassed to admit to him your lack of experience.

Rafe had only grinned at you before kissing you.

“I feel honored,” he’d whispered against your lips. “To be your first and your last.”

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.

You’d anticipated the pain, and that surely didn’t disappoint, but you hadn’t anticipated just how good it could feel. That honestly could've just been Rafe though. It’s not like he didn’t 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 wouldn’t 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.

“Do you like that?” 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 couldn’t hold in your moans. You’d been dating for months, but it was finally setting in.

Rafe Cameron was yours.

You’d daydreamt about it for years—harmless and silly fantasies—but 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 who’d 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.

…and 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.

“Rafe,” 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 wasn’t 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 wouldn’t stop kissing you the moment he climbed through your window.

“Are you going to chew it for her too?” 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 hadn’t responded outside of a scathing look towards his sister. His behavior was glaringly obvious for all to see, and you couldn’t say you hated it. Your life had become a fairytale overnight, and you’d 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.

“Honey, I’m just worried,” your mother had said another day. “It just seems like you spend all of your time with him these days and you hardly see your friends.”

Her concern was understandable, but you assured her that you were fine.

“I do see them,” you’d told her. “Rafe has just never gotten along with them too well, and it’s not like that’s changed now that we’re together.”

It wasn’t 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. 

“Five more minutes,” 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. Rafe’s fingers were pressed into you as he held you in place, and you shuddered when his breath blew along your folds. You’d never been this wet in your life, and you were scared to look at the time and see just how long he’d 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, it’s 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 didn’t 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 you’d 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 you’d never been on the receiving end of, and your mother looked between you with a disturbed frown.

“Rafe?” you wondered in shock. “What…?”

“I had to see you,” was his only excuse, and you shrank under your father’s withering gaze.

“Dad, I… I don’t know what’s…”

Your words died in the air, unable to understand what was happening. However, despite how much he’d grown to like Rafe, you could see your father’s patience thinning. You hurried to deescalate something before it began, profusely apologizing to your parents as you told them you’d handle this.

“Something could be wrong,” you hurried to say to him. “Five minutes and then I’m inside.”

Your father didn’t 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.

“Five minutes,” were her soft parting words.

Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as you forced him off of the porch, wide eyes on him.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, and you blinked.

“Is something wrong? Is it Sarah?” you worriedly asked him.

His scoff made your frown deepen.

“No, Sarah’s…fine,” he waved that off. “I was thinking about you and…I just had to see you.”

You stared at him for a long time, mouth falling open when you processed his words.

“You were thinking about me and you just had to see me? Rafe, it’s three in the morning. You woke up my parents—they have jobs they have to go to tomorrow,” you told him, voice rising in pitch.

“I wanted to see you,” he repeated. 

“I get that, but…this isn’t okay. You have to go home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Technically you’d see him later on today, but that didn’t need to be pointed out.

“...but I don’t want to go home,” Rafe said with a frown, and you blinked at him.

“Rafe…”

“I’m not going home.”

His tone was strong with conviction, and you swallowed. You looked over your shoulder before glancing behind him. You didn’t see his truck, so you guessed that he’d parked it somewhere before sneaking over here. His hand was still tight on yours, and when you looked at him again, he hadn’t looked away from you once.

“I’ll meet you at my window…okay…?”

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 didn’t hesitate to climb inside the moment you opened it.

“Rafe, my parents are home, okay? Do you understand what that means?”

The way you were talking to him felt strange.

“Of course,” he said with a nod and a small smirk. “I just wanted to see you.”

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.

“Just want to sleep next to you, tonight…”

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 didn’t 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.

“Rafe,” you warned, but he didn’t 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 didn’t seem keen on listening to your concerns when he started kissing you in his kitchen.

“No one’s home,” he’d said.

“...but they could walk through that door,” was your response.

“...but I need to be inside of you,” 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 couldn’t stop worrying about someone walking through that door. Everyone was out, now, but it wouldn’t be the first time Rafe was inside of you in a not so private place when someone came home.

You’d 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 you’d had sex today.

You were worn out—and even a little sore—and 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 couldn’t be in you, he had to be with you and touching you in some way.

…and 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. You’d stared at him in horror, and he’d acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Or when he’d rammed his truck into Topper’s jeep, citing it as a drunken accident, but you knew better. You’d 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 didn’t 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 guy’s car who’d looked at you for too long for his liking.

You didn’t want to accept responsibility for any of this.

…but when you woke up in the middle of the night to find him staring at you in the darkness for the umpteenth time…you knew. You knew that this was all your fault, and you stared back at him with a sinking feeling in your heart. You’d played God, and you’d had your fun, but now you had to find a way to undo this.

“Kie…what happened to that book you bought a while back?” you asked her the next day when you finally had some time to yourself.

The other girl frowned at you, and you elaborated.

“You know, the one with the love spells and stuff.”

Her face evened out as she remembered.

“Oh, that thing? I tossed it,” she waved off.

You stared at her, stomach dropping.

“You what?”

Your tone must have given her pause because she looked at you.

“It was bullshit,” she shrugged. “Something somebody made when they were bored, because it’s not like it worked. Sarah’s hair is shorter now than it was then. I keep telling her she needs to just cut those split ends…”

The rest of Kie’s 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 you’d told yourself you were only going to take it so far, but you’d loved being Rafe’s girlfriend and loved having him all to yourself as you’d always wanted. Now, you had him all to yourself, and you were terrified out of your mind.

“I was only at Kie’s for an hour,” 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.

“I know…but I missed you. I always miss you,” he murmured, kissing your skin.

“Do you ever think about why you miss me so much?”

“Because I love you,” he said to you as if you were silly for asking.

With difficulty, you pulled away from him, facing him. You looked into Rafe’s eyes with worry, and you noted that they were completely dilated. You pulled your lip between your teeth, at war with yourself.

“...but why do you love me? Do you ever think about that, Rafe—why you love me so much? Don't you think it came out of nowhere?”

The blond seemed to think on it for a minute.

“No,” he answered, and you frowned. “I woke up one day…and you were just there.”

You swallowed as he touched your cheek.

“...and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I had to have you and I did.”

You blinked at him.

“I always get what I want.”

He didn’t 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. Rafe’s eyes held yours the entire time, the blue of them hardly visible, and the gravity of what you did finally settled on your shoulders.

“...and I’ll never not want you.”

You stared after your friends through the crowd, Rafe’s 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 hadn’t hung out with them in what felt like ages, and while Kie and Sarah assured you there was no hard feelings—seeing firsthand how needy Rafe could be—you still felt like shit in more ways than one.

“You okay? Are you cold?”

Rafe didn’t 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 Rafe…and you were terrified to do so.

Kie had thrown out that book, and everything you looked into that didn’t seem like some cheesy gimmick all basically said the same thing—you had to let it run its course. What did that even mean? Did it mean he’d 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 so…powerful. You’d snagged the Rafe Cameron, and you’d had him eating out of the palm of your hand and hanging onto your every word. You’d 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 you’d 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 should’ve known that he expected to come inside with you.

“Rafe, I…I think I want to be alone tonight.”

It was like he didn’t process your words, at all, staring at you with a blank look, and you sighed.

“My parents are going to be home in like an hour…”

Again…nothing.

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.

“Rafe…I don’t think that we should see each other anymore.”

It was the nicest way you could say it, and Rafe still looked at you like you’d told him the craziest thing. The snort that left him made your jaw clench, and you took a deep breath.

“I’m serious,” you said, voice shaking. “You’re not in love with me.”

“Of course, I am,” he fired back.

“No, you’re not. Rafe…”

You felt like you were going to be sick, and you were acutely aware of his heavy stare.

“I did something to make you love me.”

“I know you did,” he said with a smile, reaching for you.

“No!” you moved away from him. “I 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 me…”

Rafe was frowning at you, now, and you hoped that he was getting it.

“Before this, you never even looked at me, Rafe. Remember? I was invisible to you—I was nothing! Nothing, and then you suddenly can’t stop thinking about me? I’m the only girl you want to be with? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

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.

“What’s odd is you coming up with this nonsense—this bullshit—to try and leave me.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, pressing your hand to your forehead.

“Rafe, please hear what I’m saying–.”

“I hear you.”

“No, Rafe, no. This isn’t natural. I…I messed up,” you tearfully said. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it, but part of me didn’t think it would work and another part of me hoped it would, but now… I don’t know how to undo it.”

He was moving towards you, and you stumbled back.

“You’re not leaving me,” he quietly told you.

“Rafe, please hear what I’m saying. Please, fight it because I don’t…I don’t know how to make it stop,” you cried. “...but you’re so you, and you have to still be in there. You have to be!”

You felt like you were talking to a wall, and you pushed at his hands as he reached for you.

“Rafe, please,” you begged.

When his hand pulled at your shirt, tearing it, it was sinking in. 

There was no leaving him, no getting away, and you brought your knee up. You didn’t 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.

You’d never run so fast in your life, but Rafe’s legs were longer—or he was simply more determined, fueled by something other to catch you—and 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.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you heard him whisper, turning you over.

Your vision was spinning, and you could just barely make him out as he leaned over you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly said to you, leaning in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. “...but you can’t leave me.”

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.

“I love you,” he breathed, kissing you. “...and you love me.”

You weakly pushed at his chest.

“Why would I let you leave me? Why would you want to?”

“Rafe…I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

The blond shoved you back down, and your struggle continued.

“I forgive you,” he hummed, nipping at your skin and settling in between your legs.

“No, no….”

He thought you were apologizing for something else, and you couldn’t 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 would’ve 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 didn’t mind it.

He fucked you against the grass, unconcerned about where you were. If you didn’t 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.

“What were you thinking, baby? Hmm?”

He slammed his hips against yours, letting your wrists go to reach underneath your thigh.

“Rafe,” you gasped, trying one last time to undo what you did. “This isn’t you.”

He only pushed your leg back, hungrily kissing at your jaw and neck and chest.

“Please, listen to me,” 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.

“If you try to leave me again,” Rafe quietly started, blond strands kissing your forehead. “I might have to lock you away until you come to your senses.”

He said it with a laugh, but you knew he was entirely serious, and you blinked back tears as he kissed you again.

“B-But you cornered me that time! And you locked the bathroom door.”

He shrugs wickedly, “So what? Would you have rather been at that stuffy dinner table with Mom and Dad and their stuck up friends?”

You pout, “No but… I almost burnt the chicken.”

“Because you were too busy dry humping your brother—”

“—HEY! Stepbrother!”

“Whatever. Now come here, I’m gonna teach you what a handjob is.”

He makes you feel his hard crotch through the denim of his jeans. Your cheeks burn, and yet curiosity brims inside you.

“What does it feel like?”

You mull over his question, trying your hardest to act cool and not freak out, “it’s… uh… it’s really hard.”

“You can thank your little shorts for that.” Ari snorts, snapping the waistband of your silky PJs. “Who the fuck walks around the house like this? I can practically see your ass cheeks.”

“It gets hot at night!”

“No, I think you just wear slutty shit like this to get my attention. Prance around and act all cute, and then you act surprised when I come into your room at night.”

Well, that’s exactly what had happened. After talking to your friend on the phone for a few hours, you’d hung up and realised it was close to midnight. Already in your cute little pink PJ set with the lace frills, you’d headed downstairs for a glass of water.

Except your stepbrother was at home this weekend. Ari had his own place up in the city, as well as some high paying job he’d got straight out of college. He’d gone to the same university as you, but he was older, having graduated a few years before you’d even begun freshman year. But you’d heard stories about him — the football coaches loved him, as did all the girls. You’d known of him even before his dad had married your mom last year.

What you couldn’t have known or predicted was the fixation your stepbrother seemed to have with you. He was always finding reasons to come home and stay for the weekend, always finding reasons to be around you. Watch you, touch you, fondle you, make fun of you. But he’d become a lot more touchy lately, and you didn’t know what to make of it except you didn’t hate it.

Like tonight, his eyes had followed you as you’d moved around the kitchen. Your parents were asleep, and with predatory eyes Ari had stared you down, his tongue running over his lips as he’d eyed up your barely covered ass like it was a piece of meat.

“Little girls aren’t supposed to dress like this.” He’d said, his voice deeper than usual.

“Well good thing I’m not a little girl!” You’d shot back before skipping upstairs, forever trying to act nonchalant because you didn’t know how to deal with the fact that your stepbrother made you horny.

Of course, he’d followed you up to your bedroom. Sauntered inside like he owned the place. It didn’t help that he was just so hot. All your friends had a crush on him, and he was always dating models or whatever. In fact, you were pretty sure he was dating one right now.

“How’s Gabrielle?” You blurt out just as he makes himself comfortable on your desk chair. He’s got you in his lap and your hand still on his clothed crotch, and he barely pauses at the mention of his French model girlfriend of the month.

“She’s fine.” His finger nonchalantly traces up your bare arm before dipping down your front, tugging your top down to reveal more of your cleavage.

“Well how would she feel if she knew about the stuff we do?”

Ari smirks, “elaborate on stuff please.”

You shift on top of him, “Uh… you know… this kinda stuff…”

“You mean when I get you off?”

You shrug, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“I told you, there’s nothing wrong with this. We’re both adults and we both make each other feel good. That’s got nothing to do with my girlfriend.”

“What if I get a boyfriend?”

That makes him pause, narrowing his blue eyes, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Well, there’s this guy called Steve in my World Politics class. He’s pretty popular but he seems to like me. I’m gonna tutor him next week.”

“He sounds like an asshole.” And yet Ari doesn’t look worried at all, his finger brushing against your nipple through the thin material of your top.

“No, he’s pretty nice actually. Well. At least I think he is.”

“He’s going to take advantage of you during your little tutoring session.” Your stepbrother says plainly.

Your jaw drops, “No he’s not! Steve isn’t like that.”

Ari rips your top in half in one fluid motion, and you yelp as the buttons pop and fly everywhere. He pinches your erect nipple coolly, snickering when you wince.

“Baby, we’re all like that. Where are you gonna tutor him? In here?”

“I-In his dorm room,” you stutter, gripping onto his bicep as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly. His huge hands wrap around your waist, positioning you over his thigh and you automatically grind down because you feel all frustrated down there. “Steve says he wants privacy so he can focus on learning.”

Ari stands up suddenly, you tight in his arms. That was another thing about him — he was just so big and strong! He’s holding you up with just one arm, the other one still playing with your breast.

“You’re so naive, baby girl. You know he’s gonna try and fuck you, right?”

“No! He wouldn’t!”

He throws you down on your bed, your silky pink sheets crumpling as he climbs on top of you, your body completely dwarfed by his.

“He would. But I know you wouldn’t let him.”

“Wh-Why not?”

Ari slips your shorts down, revealing your full naked body to him.

“Because you and I both know I’m the one who’s gonna pop your cherry. And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

He says it so casually, and at the same time he grabs your hand and tucks it under the waistband of his sweats. You gasp when it touches something hard and smooth, and he makes you wrap your fingers around it. His cock.

“Take it out, baby.” His voice always gets so much deeper whenever the two of you are intimate.

You nod, wanting to show him you’re not affected by him. And yet you can’t help but widen your eyes when you pull it out. It’s huge — the way it slaps up against his abs all red and angry and thick. You’ve never seen it before, usually when the two of you fooled around it was just touching above clothes. But now… this…

“It’s big.” You whisper.

Ari smirks, “Yep, but don’t worry. I’ll prep you real nice before I take you for the first time. Good little girls like you deserve that.”

You gulp, “I-I don’t think I’m ready.”

He cups your cheek, patting it condescendingly, “I know you’re not, baby. But you’re gonna touch it for me, aren’t you? Make your big brother feel good?”

“Stepbrother!” You squeak.

He makes you move your hand up and down his big dick, and you can’t get over how small your hand looks in comparison to it. You can’t even wrap your fingers around all the way!

“Spit on it.”

Ari’s eyes are dark, like twin windows to his lustful soul. He’s staring you down hard, and when he gets intense like that you can’t help but obey. He’s older than you, smarter, bigger, stronger, wiser. He makes you feel all small and helpless. Plus, he knew everything about sex, and you were inexperienced as they come.

“S-Spit?”

“Yeah, baby. Makes it easier to rub it.”

You do as he says, and he lets out a guttural groan, increasing the pace of your hand as he makes you jack him off.

“A-Ari, what if mom and dad hear us?”

He grins, “You’re afraid they’ll find out what a bad girl you are?”

“I’m not bad!”

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes, “it’s just me who’s corrupting you, huh?”

He guides your thumb to stroke his tip, and you’re almost entranced by how new all this is to you. But what turns you on more than anything is how in control Ari is. Guiding your hand to whatever pace he wants you to go at, and the whole time he has his eyes on you. Drinking you in, observing your every reaction.

It’s when you bite your lip that he surges forward and kisses you. And he’s kissed you before, of course he has. He took care of that ages ago, when he’d pushed you against the side of the pool on a different night and stolen your first kiss. He was obsessed with being your first everything, you’d realised. Maybe he was just obsessed with you.

And yet he seems so nonchalant for a man so obsessed.

He kisses you lazily, all the while making you pump his dick. His tongue is so soft, so slow yet purposeful against yours.

“You like kissing me, baby?” He smiles between kisses.

“Yes,” you sound breathless and needy.

“And you like jacking me off?”

“Yes!”

“So would you like it if I made you ride me?”

You gulp, “I told you, I don’t think I’m ready…”

He chuckles, pulling your cheek condescendingly, “Aww, don’t worry. I know the little baby isn’t ready for sex. I’m talking about something else. Something different. But you’ll need to take your panties off.”

Less than a minute later, he’s got you naked and on top of him. He’d taken his shirt off too, and you gape at his tanned, hairy chest and toned abs. Gosh, he was exactly like all those ripped men in the movies! No wonder all his girlfriends were supermodels.

“That’s right, sit on top of me just like that,” he says gently, like you’re just a little baby who doesn’t know how to do anything. It makes you even wetter when he gets like that. “Now, I want you to move backwards and forwards.”

“I don’t know how!”

“Yes you do. Just do what feels good baby. Your pussy’s all wet and throbbing, isn’t she?” Ari smirks when you duck your head at his lewd words. He runs his tongue over his dark lips, his eyes navy with lust.

“Um, yeah…”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah she’s wet and throbbing, okay??”

“Then rub her against me. I’ll guide your hips and help you. And baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to call me daddy. And if you don’t do it, I’ll stop everything right now and leave you hanging.”

Your jaw drops. You’re used to Ari giving you whatever you want. He spoiled you a lot after all.

“D-Daddy?” You squeak, and you can practically see his eyes go ten shades darker in slow motion.

“Yeah, just like that,” he says darkly, squeezing your butt all slow and lingering, “God fuck baby you’re so hot. Nobody does it for me like you do. Hell, I even picture it’s you when I’m fucking my girl.”

You gasp, either from what he’s just admitted or because he’s started moving your hips back and forth. And your bare, wet pussy glides over his rock hard abs, and you can feel every ridge and dip and it feels like heaven. And fuck, he’s so hairy and manly and you can feel it, and your clit throbs with the need to go faster, feel more friction. But you and him both know he’s controlling the pace right now.

“She doesn’t do it for me,” Ari says, watching you like a hawk as your face contorts in pleasure, and you twist and writhe above him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you begin to move in earnest, “Not like how you do. There’s just something about how innocent you are, and how much you look up to me. It’s so fucking hot, baby girl. The idea of me corrupting you and ruining your innocence. All while you look up at me with those fucking sexy doe eyes as if I’m your God.”

You gasp at the picture his words are painting. Gosh, it’s getting you so hot and needy! You rut harder against him, chasing your release and nothing else. There’s just something about him being so in charge, so in control yet so nonchalant about it. You love being at his mercy, letting your stepbrother corrupt you like you truly are the helpless baby he always makes fun of you for being.

He spits down on your breasts before pushing them together and burying his face in them. He licks and nips and sucks till you’re crying from the torture. He’s bullying you nipples, biting and sucking and pulling till they feel sore and sensitive and it just heightens all your sensations. Your orgasm’s building up, just the feel of his hard abs on your pussy, how your clit drags against his hairiness. Fuck, he was such a man. And it’s driving you over the edge.

“A-Ari, it’s too much!” You whine.

He slaps your clit and you cry pitifully, so fucking close to your release.

“Call me daddy again,” he orders, “say it, and promise you’ll let me fuck you for real the next time I come down here.”

“Daddy,” you moan, clutching at his abs, his shoulders, his hair. All the while he’s dragging you back and forth over him, and you can feel his dick rock hard against your bare ass. Oh, the idea that he could overpower you and slip it in at any point if he so pleased. Fuck fuck fuck…

“Say it,” Ari commands through gritted teeth. “I can’t stand fucking anyone else anymore. It has to be you, baby. And you’ll let me do it won’t you? You’ll let your stepbrother fuck you? Teach you how it’s done?”

“Yes!” You feel delirious with pleasure, rocking back and forth on top of him, and his whole front is soaking wet with your cream. And it’s so fucked up, because your parents are asleep under the same roof. But at this moment in time you can’t even think straight. “Yes, you can fuck me for real next time! I’ll let you do anything to me! I just… ngh… daddy, I…I…”

You squirt so violently that you collapse on top of him, crying and whimpering as your slick covers his abs and chest. And the release is so insanely hot, so sexy, so fucking pleasurable that you can’t think straight.

“Good girl,” Ari praises, “good little baby, you’re so good for me. Doing exactly what I want you to do. Using your stepbrother for your own pleasure. Fuck, you’re so hot. Don’t know what I’ll fucking do without you when I go back home. You’re like my own little personal doll. I should fucking take you with me.”

He grabs your hand and puts it on his dick. And you’re sapped of all energy, so you just watch him use your hand to jack himself off. His dick feels so big and hard, and you wonder how it’ll ever fit inside you. Because now you’ve promised him that he could fuck you. And you couldn’t take that back.

He cums hard, making sure to coat your hand with his sticky hot cum. And you lie there on his chest like a baby, breathing hard and feeling like you’re in a dream. There’s still a dull throbbing between your legs, like the situation is just so fucking sexy that you can’t help but be turned on again.

And Ari just won’t stop touching you. Even now, as he lies there spent and his sticky cum is all over you, coating your ass and it feels so hot and sexy. Like he’s marked you as his and there’s no going back now.

“Thank you,” you squeak before quickly correcting yourself, “thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” Ari kisses your forehead, his huge hand rubbing your back comfortingly. “But we’re not finished just yet. You promised to let me fuck you, and we’ve got to practice some other things before you’ll be ready to take my dick.”

You bite your lip, looking into his blue eyes, “O-Other things?”

“Yes.” Ari sits up, grinning wickedly, “We have all night to practice everything. And first, I want to see how many fingers daddy can fit inside that cute virgin pussy.”

he was confused by the insinuation until you used your magic to save him while he was distracted

you wanted to know more about how he acquired something imbued with such dark magic

and he realized he could use you on his team

"you looking for a job by any chance?" -parker

you decided to accept out of curiousity

and you were fawned over by the gang

"dark magic? did you like choose that or did that choose you?" -stu

"why? would you like to join my cult of evil witches?" -you, sarcastically while brandishing purple magic

"oh, hell, no" -stu, running away

parker ended up trusting you enough to get close

you weren't in it for the money, but you were in it for power

but parker wanted your power, too

"you wanna see it? the hood?" -parker

"you know i do" -you

you saw the cloak in a different way than him, admired it more. admired him more.

"you're...fascinating" -you

"how so?" -parker

"a very powerful person trusted you with this. in exchange for what?" -you

"a second chance, in a way" -parker

"well, this is quite a chance" -you

"you like that, huh?" -parker

you picked up on his flirting fast. wasn't really that subtle

he didnt want it to be either

"i'm pretty into it, yeah" -you

"glad to hear it" -parker, getting closer "you're not like anyone i've ever met before"

"i know, i'm one of a kind" -you

"i want to be one of a kind with you" -parker

he was your number one admirer after this

he didn't want to be away from you, you were so intoxicating

and your powers made you even more valuable

it wasnt a transactional relationship, but it didn't help

he teased. a lot

if you argued, he knew what buttons to press

"what are you gonna do, cast a spell on me?" -parker

"don't tempt me, i'll turn you into a frog" -you

"no, you wouldn't. you'd miss my handsome face too much" -parker

"yeah, maybe i'll just turn you to stone" -you

you referred to the gang as your "coven"

"we should totally go down the witch's road" -you

"what's that?" -slug

"i'm soooo glad you asked" -you

you then lore dumped for like 2 hours about the witch's road

parker loved the story though, talked to you about it all night

"i'd go down the road with you" -parker, running his fingers through your hair

"what would you go for?" -you

"i'd get even more power, do some good with it even" -parker

"what's mephisto like?" -you

"he's kind of suave, real cocky, too" -parker

"that's it?" -you

"well, he's like, the devil, there's not much more to say" -parker

you monitored the effects of the magic he used

"parker. it's killing you" -you

"i'm fine, baby, don't worry. soon, i won't even need it" -parker

"that's not how the price works" -you

"well, i have you to save me" -parker

"i don't think i can save you from this, parker" -you

"well then just pretend you can. for me." -parker

he'd watch over you while you meditated, casted spells, worked your magic

make sure you were safe

"you were out a long time, i was getting worried" -parker, coming up to hug you tight from behind

"it takes time, baby. not all of us get magic capes" -you

once the jobs started getting more serious, so did you

and thats when riri was recruited

she called bs on your magic until you started messing with her head

"oh, no, don't do that again. i didn't like that. hell no" -riri

"y/n, what'd i tell you about casting spells on the crew?" -parker

"i can only cast them on you" -you, winking

"later" -parker, winking back

you often felt mischievous and would play a few harmless(ish) pranks—which parker actually found funny

"can you take this seriously?" -john

"where's the fun in that?" -you

"it's not, it's business." -john

"leave it alone john" -parker

"let them get away with everything, huh?" -john

"you're just jealous" -you, taunting

you were super important on missions, protecting people, fighting people without being traced (magic energy is hard to track), using telekinesis, controlling enemies

it honestly made the team a little uncomfortable but they didn't want to speak up

"you should blow that up" -clown

"isn't that more you're m.o.?" -you

"yes, but you do it in purple!" -clown

once the bigger paydays started, you decided to visit stantons candy, reads, & more—your favorite magic store

owners were a little put off by you, but respected you nonetheless

"what are you looking for today, y/n?" -zelma

"working on some new spells, need some supplies" -you, pulling out a list a few pages long

parker would mess with your supplies and you'd scold him

"did you put a love potion on me?" -parker

"uh, no? why would you ask that?" -you

"cuz im seriously so in love with you" -parker

"okay, sappy" -you "why don't you help me mix a few things"

"then you'll come to bed?" -parker

"yes, dear." -you, sarcastically

you grew wary of riri early on, but parker forbid you from looking into it

said "we trust each other around here"

you wish he would have listened to you bc she became a major pain in the ass

he begged you to bring john back when he died, but your magic had limits

"i—parker, i can't. there are rules, and he wont be the same. death changes a person" -you

he was upset you wouldn't do it for him

but he wanted revenge now

and you could help him with that

you begged for his forgiveness nonetheless, he was mourning though

"parker, baby, we're so close now. get it together, okay?" -you

"i know. i just don't like loose ends" -parker

he was getting bad, and the dark magic he'd been using was harming him, starting to spread even more

you were desperate to save him

so while he was finishing his mission, you were paid a visit by mephisto

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes jerking off to the thought of you every night. He tries not to. He swears he tries. But the second he’s alone in his bed, his hand is already slipping beneath the covers, stroking himself to the memory of the way you smiled at him that day, the way your fingers brushed against his when you handed him something. He bites his lip to keep from moaning your name, but sometimes he slips. He wants you so badly it hurts.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes getting hard just from being too close to you. It’s humiliating. You’ll brush past him in the halls, and suddenly he has to think about something else, anything at all before it becomes obvious. He swears he isn’t some pervert, but his body betrays him every single time.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes stealing little things from you just to feel close. Hair ties, pens, even the smallest scraps of paper with your handwriting on them—if it’s yours, he wants it. He keeps them hidden in his room, a little shrine of stolen pieces of you, pulling them out when he needs to feel closer.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes dreaming about breaking the rules for you. Kenneth’s no-sex rule? He wants to follow it. Really, he does. But if you ever whispered, “No one has to know,” in that soft, teasing voice of yours, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d break every rule, risk everything, just to have you.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes hiding in your closet when you come home early from your shift. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He had just come to be close to you, to lie in your bed for a moment, to breathe you in. But when he heard the door open, panic set in. There was no time to escape, so he scrambled into your closet, heart hammering, praying you wouldn’t notice the way the door was slightly ajar.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes who ends up watching you without meaning to. He swears he didn’t mean to see anything. He should have closed his eyes, should have turned his back away from the gap in the closet. But then you started touching yourself—right there, in your bed, technically in front of him, although completely unaware that he was hidden just feet away. His mouth went dry, his whole body frozen as he watched, mesmerized, unable to look away.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes who can’t help but touch himself too. He tries to stay still, to stay quiet, but it’s too much. The way you whimper, the way your breath hitches—it’s torture. He palms himself through his pants, biting his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He knows it’s wrong, knows he shouldn’t, but the way you moan has him coming undone, desperate and aching for you in ways he can’t even describe.

Obsessed!Mickey Barnes hating himself for it but knows he’d do it again. When you finally sigh, when you finally relax, he’s still trembling in the dark, spent and ashamed but so, so addicted. He waits until you’re asleep before slipping out, forcing himself to pretend like it never happened. But deep down, he knows—if it ever happened again, if fate ever put him in that position once more—he wouldn’t hesitate to touch himself once more.

“...Vitals are surprisingly low,” the voice spoke. “Is this normal?” 

Instinctively Mickey opened his mouth to answer, clamping it shut once he realised you weren’t speaking to him, but a fellow doctor across the lab. He hoped you hadn’t noticed. He felt a bit silly. 

“I’m just going to put this in, ok? It’s a small chip to help us track your endocrine system, hormones, endorphins – those kinds of things. You shouldn’t feel a thing, it’s virtually weightless.” You spoke again, eyes occasionally making contact as you glanced down to reassure him, but more focused on dabbing at his skin with a wipe.

Mickey took a short breath, having not particularly grown accustomed to needles throughout any of his seventeen iterations. 

“Uh-huh... Why do I -” 

“All done.” You grinned, withdrawing the tool with a smile.

He couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed, selfishly wishing a flare up of some kind, anything that could get him to spend just a few more minutes longer with you. Anything was better than a meaningless afternoon within the four walls of his room. Pursing his lips, he pushed himself to sit upright, allowing for him to get a better view of you.  

“How do you feel?”  

“Fine...” he began, wringing his hands. “Though in my position I’ve learned that’s not much.” 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be an Expendable. I admire your bravery,” you began, leaning in, your faces a few centimetres apart. “Chin up.” 

Goosebumps peppered his skin as he felt your breath on his cheek, the warmth of your hands felt even through your plastic gloves as you held his face in place, running a torch over his eyes. 

“It’s not all bad,” he chuckled nervously. “I get to keep my memories.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. There are definitely a few things I’d like to forget...” 

“Like what?” he questioned, hoping that you wouldn't find his prying weird. He’d never get this far with any other doctor on the team. 

“Bad hairstyles for one,” you said with a soft sigh, stepping away from the man to enter something into a computer. "My entire college years, amongst other things.” 

“I bet they weren’t that bad,” he shrugged, brushing a wet, messy strand of his mousy brown hair from his eyes. “Nice girls like you definitely had a better time than me.” 

The statement seemed to illicit a smile.  

“Well,” you huffed as you scribbled something down on a clipboard. “Nice girls tend to finish last. That’s why I’m here. Other than the pay, being a doctor on Earth is pretty shit.” 

Mickey grinned, and this time let out a genuine, audible laugh, so unrestrained that his voice broke in the process. You hummed in amusement, presumably at the fact that the man had taken such glee in an offhand comment, before going back to your job and listing some rather important things about the tests being run.  

By that point Mickey had naturally zoned out, having heard all the doctors’ spiel before. What did it matter if hypertension could cause blackouts, heart attacks or death – he would just be reprinted anyway. In a fucked-up way, nothing really mattered... In what he thought would’ve been basic empathy, he hoped you could see him for who he was - less of a crash dummy and more of a human.  

- 

Marshall was fuming.

And by that nature, the whole lab was pissed off with you. 

The past few experiments had been complete failures – not due to misguided hypothesises, but because Mickey was a shitty lab rat. If you could even call him that.  

Over the few weeks that 17 had been cloned, nothing had gone to plan. Half the time, he’d passed out before research could begin, or hadn’t even been deemed fit to work. You’d only seen him in passing, being wheeled about on a table or through plexiglass – but you knew something was wrong…the numbers told you so. 

It was difficult. On Earth there were too many patients for you to really care about them in the way your cared for Mickey, but reading his past files and listening here-say from the other workers was enough to sympathise with him. From what Dorothy had told you, his past iterations had never been so stubborn, which was why it didn’t make sense for him to act up now. 

Arkady thought it to be a fault in the tech, that somehow he’d reprinted wrong…but you knew better.  

It was obvious he’d grown fond of you. You’d caught him staring multiple times, a distant smile dotted across his face as he carved out your visage through the haze of the testing room. Sometimes, he’d even wave. Discreetly, you did back. 

To be fair, you liked him too.

Naturally, it made sense for you to ‘deal’ with him. You clutched your clipboard to your chest as you walked down the empty corridors to a distant room, curtly waving away the guards as you entered. 

The brown haired man perked up, and if you weren’t facing expulsion – or death – from Marshall himself then you would’ve made a quip about it. 

“Oh - I, uh...They just shoved me in here, I have no idea what’s this all about —“ Mickey stammered, eyes glancing around the room frantically as if to search for a source of reason himself. You watched as he shrunk in on himself, seemingly realising from your crossed arms and pursed lips that you weren’t in a generous mood. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised. You haven’t been eating as much. Or sleeping,” you began, shoes tapping against the floor as you strolled towards him. He seemed to be trying (and failing) to divert his gaze from you, eyes as wide and watery as ever, and it occurred to you that it felt like a mean teacher punishing a schoolboy. “They wanted to throw you in the cell, but I convinced them to lend you to me under the name of science.” 

He nodded shyly and peered up at you from his bangs. 

“Our research is compromised if you go into a mission on two hours of sleep and low blood sugar. Then we look bad, and Marshall blows his gasket.” 

Mickey itched uncomfortably, contemplating something before the edges of his lips curved up into a small, jaunty smile. “...Isn’t there some kind of shot for that?” 

“That isn’t the point, Mickey,” you chided, ignoring his silly attempt at a joke. “Not everything can be fixed by a drug. We may be miles away from Earth, but most things are still down to basic biology. You’re still human.” 

The man sighed and cast his gaze to the floor, so much so that you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with Marshall. If you let me out of here, I’ll tell him it’s my fault.” 

You fought to hold back a small smile. Here he was, essentially a complete stranger – a literal lab experiment - and yet was ready to take a bullet for you. It baffled you as to why nobody else saw the gentleness of humanity in Mickey – probably because no one was willing to give him a chance. Being labelled ‘Expendable’ would do that, all too ironic that he was the most important on the ship. To the whole regime, really.  

“There’s no need to do that...” you hummed. “I’m just annoyed I’ve overlooked things.” 

“…Like?” 

“Happiness, for one,” you began, slowly striding around the room to place your clipboard on a small table. “And attention. We tend to forget that we need it.” 

Mickey swayed his head, seemingly taking in what you were saying as he watched you like a hawk. As if his body had been pulled taught with a string, his back visibly straightened as you stopped in-front of him, your shins touching the tips of his thigh. Swallowing, he angled his head to look up at you, and your gazes met. 

“Be honest with me, Mickey…Did you stop eating just so you could see me?” 

He swallowed again, briefly diverting his gaze before looking back at you, running his tongue over his lips. Mickey was always cute, but he looked especially delectable in this angle. 

“Y-yeah…” he stammered. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble —“ 

“Why did you do that? Did you want my attention?” 

“Uh –“ 

“Do you like me?” 

His answered came in the form of a shy nod and an uneasy grip on your legs. In the best way, you were going to ruin him.  

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You can touch me. I want you to.” 

Reaching out to embrace your torso, Mickey found himself softly stunned as you pulled away, comforted with the sight of you removing your lab coat and aptly peeling off your jumpsuit, discarding it across the cold floor. 

The man wasted no time in latching onto you, rubbing his face over your bare skin as he pressed wet, impassioned kisses against your stomach, making his way passed your bellybutton and towards your underwear.  

You threw your head back as you pulled him closer, placing your hands on top of his as he roamed your body, lithe fingers kneading the shape of your thighs and ass. In any other circumstance, you would’ve been trying to pleasure Mickey – and you were sure you would eventually – but you got the feeling that he only ever wanted to make you happy. 

Your pleasure was his pleasure. He was useful that way. 

Mickey let out a soft whistle from his nose, momentarily pulling away from getting his fix. 

“You smell like strawberries…” he murmured before nestling into you. Who would’ve thought that the perfume you’d grabbed from Earth right before jumping on this metal container would awaken something in him? 

Grinning, a purr escaped your lips as you lowered yourself onto Mickey’s thighs, one hand on his chest as you gently pushed him onto the bed, his back springing up ever so slightly from the recoil. He looked so beautiful like this; all desperate and wanting, eager to taste your lips. 

Pressing your lips against his, you gave him what he wanted. Though you’d never underestimated him, you were rather surprised by how skilfully his lips moved against your own, barely missing a beat as his hands worked your way up to your breasts. 

He let out a moan as he gave them a squeeze through your bra, eyes darting frantically between your chest and the sight below him – your ass grinding perfectly against his bulge. 

“You’re so sweet, Mickey, do you know that?” you teased, popping up to quickly push down his pants. “I hate the way they treat you.” 

“You aren’t like them…” he murmured. “You’re perfect.” 

If it wasn’t for hormones clouding your judgment, your heart would’ve stopped upon questioning the melancholy statement. You’d only treated him as any good doctor would – with respect – and yet he was comparing you to some kind of deity. 

Mickey stopped you with a firm grasp on your forearm, just as you began to reach down into his boxers. You were mildly shocked, almost expecting him to be completely passive in the act, but wasn’t adverse to the offer. In fact you rather liked it. 

“Let me.” He whispered. 

You obliged. 

Mickey let out a loud whimper as he sunk into you, his cock bottoming out in you nicely. He was average sized, but it completed you. You felt every pulse and twitch as you moved your hips along him, coating pink cock in a shiny film. 

He’d pawed at your chest now, popping a breast from inside the material and putting it into his mouth, sucking and licking at your nipple. You moaned at the contact, though quickly but down on your lip to suppress any more noises. At the end of the day, you were still technically a doctor on duty. 

Then again, Marshall was so weird that he’d probably enjoy your gratuitous display – limbs flailing and Mickey’s hair clung to his forehead from ecstasy. The ship was cold, but heat filled your body, tingling from your loins and rising through to your cheeks.  

You were so preoccupied with Mickey’s visual proof of euphoria that you’d barely noticed that his hands had made their way to your lower body, his hands holding the sides of your ass in position as you writhed against him. 

“Shit…” you stammered. “You’re so good…Don’t stop…” 

Naively, the man shook his head, staring up at you with puppy eyes. In an effort to impress you, he bucked his hips up into your wet pussy, squelching sounds louder and prominent than before. He seemed to be hitting your spot effortlessly. 

“Beautiful. God, you’re an angel…” he sighed, his squeaky, yet raspy accent as prominent as ever. He sounded like he was from New York. 

You’d ask him about it some day. 

Honestly, you don’t even know how it happened.

One minute, the three of you were arguing about what the hell you were supposed to do, the next, Mickey 17 was between your legs, his tongue lapping at your cunt while Mickey 18 sat by the bed, rubbing over his clothed cock, eyes dark with jealousy as he watched, his grip on himself tightening and his jaw clenching as he watched 17 work.

His tongue moved like he’d done this a hundred times before because he technically had. Every movement over your clit was muscle memory, honed from how long the two of you had been together. Mickey 18 knew exactly what it felt like to have you writhing beneath him, and the fact that 17 was the one drawing those desperate little sounds from your lips instead of him was driving him insane.

He exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat like he was debating whether to wait his turn or shove 17 out of the way. But 17 wasn’t stopping—not even sparing his double a glance. He was devoted, completely focused on your pleasure, moaning against your cunt like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted (because in his mind, it was).

“Fuck,” 18 muttered, palming himself harder. “That’s my pussy too, y’know.”

Mickey 17 lifted his head slightly, looking up at 18 with wide, hazy eyes, lips slick with your arousal.

“But… it’s my turn,” he said softly, almost pouting.

Mickey 18 let out a sharp breath, like he was barely holding himself together. Then, he moved.

Before you could process it, he was between your legs, shoving 17’s shoulder in an attempt to get him out of the way. “Move.”

17 let out a small noise of protest, hands still gripping your thighs, eyes flickering between 18 and you, unsure, almost as if wanting you to tell 18 to wait his turn.

But 18 wasn’t waiting, and honestly, he wouldn’t even listen to you if he told him too. He pressed his mouth to you, groaning as he finally got his first taste, lapping at your cunt like you were water and he was a man in the desert.

17 whined softly but didn’t pull away. Instead, after a beat, he leaned back in, his tongue darting out to flick over your clit, while 18 groaned against your entrance, working his tongue deeper.

The two of them licked and sucked in tandem, their breath hot, their mouths wet and eager, both of them determined to pull you apart.

17 clung to your thighs, eyes fluttering shut as he focused on the sensitive bundle of nerves, whimpering softly with every little twitch of pleasure you gave while 18 was rougher, more demanding, moaning against your cunt as he pushed his tongue deeper, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Pleasure coursed through you, your body arching between them as their mouths worked in perfect, desperation. It was overwhelming, the contrast of them both.

Your fingers tangled in 17’s hair, gripping tight, and he whimpered into you, the sound vibrating through your core. He was so good for you, so eager to please, to be wanted. 18 groaned at the noise, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer to his mouth, dragging his tongue through your wetness with a satisfied hum, like he was trying to drown himself in you.

It was almost too much. Their mouths, their hands, the sounds they were making—moaning, whining, competing for your pleasure.

Your thighs shook as heat coiled in your stomach. Your back arching as you gasped, choking on a moan, and that was all the encouragement they needed.

17 sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking faster, more determined, and 18 groaned into you, his hands spreading your thighs wider, his mouth moving rougher, needier—both of them working together, completely in sync now.

It hit you like a freight train. Your vision blurred, your breath hitched, and then you broke—pleasure crashing through you in waves, your body shaking as they held you down, licking you through it, moaning against you like they were the ones falling apart.

You barely registered the way 18 groaned in satisfaction, the way 17 let out a little whimper, nuzzling against your thigh, licking up every last drop like he couldn’t stand to waste a single thing.

It was only when the tremors in your body subsided that 18 finally pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so very smug.

“See?” he murmured, voice thick with pride as he glanced at 17. “That’s how you do it.”

17 just blinked up at him, wide-eyed and still flushed, his lips parted slightly like he was about to argue but then, slowly, a small, almost dazed smile curled at his lips.

“I think we should do it again,” he said softly, voice still breathless.

18 snorted, shaking his head before turning back to you, dragging his fingers over your thigh. “Yeah? What do you think, sweetheart? Think you can handle another round?”

Your body was still trembling, your breath still ragged but with two Mickeys looking at you like that, both of them ready to do whatever you wanted?

⭑

You picked at the omelet Sarah made you, stuffing the scrambled egg into your mouth as she ranted about your boyfriend.

“...and then he has the nerve to actually be peeved at our dad like he’s not in the wrong,” she scoffed. “He asked you to do something important, you told him you would, and then you didn’t. It’s not hard math.”

She roughly dumped the skillet into the sink, shaking her head as she turned back around.

“You know what it is…?”

You stared at her as she angrily stabbed into her own omelet.

“I bet you anything he spent the money on booger sugar instead.”

You blinked at her at that and after a few moments she finally lifted her head. Your gazes met as you evenly stared at her, and with a small sigh, she touched your hand. A small smile was on her lips.

“Cocaine.”

“Ah,” you softly replied, nodding.

You weren’t exactly a fan of Rafe’s…habits, but you also saw firsthand how mad Ward could get with him sometimes. Rose too, and when Rafe explained to you one day that the drugs helped to clear his head and prevent him from doing things he’d regret, you became a little more understanding. You supposed that it did help you a bit to see firsthand that he was able to still behave pretty okay whenever he was high, sometimes watching with a slight frown as he snorted the powdery substance off of his hand.

“That doesn’t hurt?” you’d asked him one day.

His only response had been a wolfish grin as he asked you if you wanted some. He’d only laughed to himself before kissing you when you shook your head. You’d never given it much thought—the idea of partaking in that particular hobby of his—but Sarah had done a good job of scaring you away from the idea of ever trying it. Sometimes you swore that Rafe secretly didn’t want you trying it either despite his jokes. That’d been the only time he’d ever offered even though you’d witnessed him with the white substance on many occasions, especially in the privacy of his bedroom.

It was with that thought that your lips parted, something going off in the back of your mind.

“Cocaine is white…right?”

You knew that, but you needed confirmation from someone who wasn’t you. You were starting to second guess what you knew to be true in the hopes that it wasn’t true. In the hopes that you were just having a dumb moment—something Rafe often said— that was different from the dumb moment you were positive you’d had earlier. Sarah gave you a strange look before giving a slow yes, the word dragging out of her mouth.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“...and…kind of like powder?”

Again, her answer remained the same.

“Yes.”

“Oh God.”

You felt her eyes on you as you hurriedly stood up, feet tripping over each other as you rushed to the big garbage in the kitchen. Your heart dropped at the sight of a brand new bag in it, bringing your hand up to your mouth before facing Sarah again.

A ball of dread filled your gut.

“Rose already took the garbage out?”

Sarah’s frown deepened.

“Yeah–Y/N, what is going on, right now?”

“Oh my God, Rafe is going to kill me,” you whined.

“Why–? Hey! Hey, what’s going on?”

She was standing with you, now, her hands on your arms as she forced you to remain still. You heaved a shaky sigh, glancing up towards the ceiling as it was starting to sink in that you fucked up. Again.

“I was straightening up Rafe’s room this morning… You know, putting things away and getting rid of trash,” you softly started, shrinking in on yourself.

Sarah eventually blinked before rolling her eyes.

“I’m not even going to get into that, right now, but okay…”

She urged you to continue.

“I was just tossing away junk…and there was a bag by his lamp, not very big, and there was like…white powder in it…”

Sarah straightened up when you trailed off, lips parting as she seemed to understand what you did before you even said it.

“I didn’t realize what it was!” you rushed to say, explaining yourself. “It didn’t really click at the time and then you started talking about booger sugar and I had it on my mind and…”

You huffed, rubbing your forehead.

“Rafe is going to be so pissed,” you mumbled.

“Who cares? Serves him right, if you ask me,” the blonde shrugged, sitting back down to finish her breakfast.

“Sarah! It helps him,” you defended.

The laugh she barked made you frown.

“Is that what he told you?” she stuffed her face. “It only ‘helps’ him because he’s so goddamn addicted to it. It helps him like tequila helps an alcoholic.”

She didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“So, you’re not going to help me replace it?”

“Uh…that would be a no, and that should go for you too,” she threw you a frown. “God forbid he forgoes the hard drugs for a day or two. Let him be pissed.”

With a frustrated huff, you turned away from her, ignoring her as she told you to just forget about it.

This wasn’t the first time you’d accidentally thrown something out that Rafe needed, only this time was the first time you hadn’t been able to get it back, and you recalled him talking about how expensive it was once. You grimaced at the thought of how much you’d have to pay to replace what you’d thrown out, but it was better than the alternative.

While you were positive Rafe loved you just the way you were, you also didn’t think he’d prefer to deal with your screw ups all the time if he didn’t have to. You frustrated him, that was no secret, and while that frustration never seemed to last for long, you knew that it couldn’t be easy to have you as a girlfriend. You didn’t like to remind him of that.

“Stupid, stupid” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your purse, lightly hitting the side of your head.

“Hi! Barry…?”

The dark-haired guy wasn’t alone, and the way he turned his head towards you told you that you had the right guy. Topper had given you a few spots as to where he might be—albeit reluctantly—and you were grateful that you’d only had to go to two locations to find him. Feeling so relieved that you found him—and that Rafe wasn’t going to kill you—you hurried towards him.

He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed. “You sell cocaine to Rafe, right?”

His reaction wasn’t what you expected, at all, the other guy quickly sporting a frown and harshly telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’. You blinked in shock, only able to follow along as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the guys he was with. You struggled to keep up—stumbling a bit—and when he felt satisfied enough with the distance to let you go, you almost fell.

“Ayo, are you stupid or something?” he asked you, his fingers pressed to his temple. “You can’t just ask me that, and especially not in front of whoever I’m with.”

Your eyes were wide as he snapped at you, and you deflated a bit, swallowing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

It didn’t occur to you to be discreet about it, and now that it had been pointed out to you, you felt silly.

“What, you wanna buy or something?” he threw his arms out.

You nodded at that, perking up a bit.

“Yes, please. Whatever you normally sell to Rafe…”

Barry paused at the mention of your boyfriend, eyeing you for a moment before his face evened out entirely. A soft chuckle left his lips as he shook his head. The soft chuckle turned into a full blown laugh, and you felt awkward as you waited for him to finish.

“You’re with Country Club,” he finally said, pointing to you. “You’re his girl…”

You pressed your lips together, head tilting a bit in confusion. 

“Rafe,” he gently told you, leaning in, his gold tooth winking at you.

“Oh! Yes,” you excitedly confirmed. “He told you about me?”

The thought made your stomach flutter. 

“Oh, yeah,” he dragged the word out, smile crooked. “He’s told me all about you.”

Your smile widened, and he only shook his head again.

“Now…Rafe said you didn’t do drugs,” Barry said, his voice much gentler now as he took your arm and led you away.

“I don’t. It’s not for me, it’s for Rafe…”

“...but I just sold to Rafe. Not even three days ago. You’re tellin’ me he went through all of that already?”

You grew quiet at that, and you glanced away. At the feel of his eyes on you, you met Barry’s gaze again, teeth sinking into your lip.

“Something you wanna tell me?” he softly asked you, leaning in again.

“I accidentally threw it out…”

He seemed to find that hilarious, letting out a laugh that made you jump.

“I was cleaning Rafe’s room,” you started, feeling embarrassed. “...and…”

The dark-haired man wouldn’t stop laughing, and you felt your face heat up.

“Stop! It’s not funny,” you whined. “Rafe is going to be so pissed at me, and I’m trying to replace it before he notices.”

At that, Barry calmed down a bit, but the odd chuckle still climbed you of his throat every time he glanced at you.

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” he commented. “Alright…”

You blinked at him.

“I’ll sell you what I normally sell him, and you know what?” he hummed, thinking.

“What?”

“Since you’re so sweet, and you’re just trying to be a good girlfriend, I’ll sell it to you for a discounted price.”

“Oh!”

Your mood lifted at that.

“Really? Thank you! So, where is it?”

Barry paused at that before chuckling again, and truthfully you didn’t understand why. You weren’t saying anything particularly funny, but you allowed him to lead you along as he neared a black bike.

“See, I keep the uh…cocaine,” he lowered his voice. “...back at my place.”

“Oh,” you softly replied, nodding because that made sense.

“...and you walked here. So uh we’ll have to go on my bike,” he told you, gesturing to the vehicle.

Now, it was your turn to pause, eyeing it as you both stood by it. There didn’t seem like much room for you to ride on it, not unless of course you were plastered to him on the back. You chewed on your lip, weighing it over in your head.

Rafe wouldn’t be happy about this, at all. Your boyfriend practically lost his mind any time another guy so much as glanced at you, so you didn’t want to imagine how he’d feel about you riding on the back of some other guy’s bike. On the other hand though, you wondered what would upset him more? The coke or the bike? Not to mention…

You wouldn’t have a ride back.

You’d likely have to let Barry drive you back to this side of the island, and you sighed in frustration.

“What’s wrong, Mrs. Country Club?” he sweetly asked.

You ignored the nickname.

“How am I supposed to get back…?”

Barry softly laughed at you before climbing on his bike, seemingly sure that you’d be tagging along. You watched him grab the helmet before handing it to you, and you hesitantly took it. When Barry smiled at you, the sun glinted off of the gold on his tooth.

“Don’t worry,” he told you. “I’ll make sure you get a ride back.”

His response seemed genuine, and so you allowed him to slide the helmet over your head, tilting it back to let him secure it. You struggled to push the skirt of your dress between your thighs as you comfortably settled behind him, obeying when he told you to wrap your arms around him. It was only when he was pulling off that it occurred to you that you’d never even ridden on the back of Rafe’s bike like this.

Barry’s house…wasn’t what you expected.

As you sat on the couch in his living room, you looked around the limited space with wide eyes. He’d disappeared into a room somewhere in the back almost immediately the moment you both stepped through the door, telling you to take a seat as he left. You did as he said, and the couch was where you’d been for the past thirty minutes or so.

This process was completely unfamiliar to you, but you told yourself to be patient. You liked to think that Rafe wasn’t home yet and that you still had time to replace his drugs before he noticed. If your boyfriend had noticed, there was no doubt in your mind that he’d currently be blowing up your phone. Speaking of, you glanced at said device again, frowning at the time and wondering what was taking so long.

Just as you were about to call Barry’s name, he finally rejoined you.

“I was starting to think you fell in,” you teased.

He didn’t smile, merely raising one dark brow at you, and you sheepishly chuckled.

“It’s a joke my father says, sometimes…”

You trailed off, shaking your head.

“Is it ready?”

You hoped you didn’t sound as frantic and as desperate as you felt, but you really wanted to get back before Rafe noticed.

“Yeah,” Barry drawled, a crooked smile on his lips as he held the bag up. 

You started to stand, but he held a hand out, signaling for you to stay, and you frowned.

“How much do I owe you?”

You watched as he merely sat down across from you, and your frown deepened just as you heard a vehicle outside. You thought nothing of it, instead focused on Barry as he tilted his head from side to side. The dark-haired man hummed to himself.

“I haven’t decided just yet,” he grinned, spreading his arms along the back of the chair. “I’m waiting on a second opinion.”

His answer confused you, and you blinked a few times, trying to decipher what that meant when his front door opened. You didn’t realize he was expecting someone else, but when you turned your head, your eyes widened and your stomach dropped.

“Rafe…?”

Your boyfriend didn’t say a word as he shut the door behind him, and you didn’t need to be a genius to see that he wasn’t happy. Your lips parted, mouth opening and closing as you struggled to understand why he was here, right now. Had he noticed that his drugs were gone and was currently here to buy more? Was this merely an unfortunate coincidence?

“Country club!”

You jumped at Barry’s loud voice, never taking your eyes off of your boyfriend. He kept his hard gaze on you too.

“Glad you could make it—nice girlfriend you got here. She’s a sweetheart, man. I mean, really, she went through all this effort to fix her fuckup,” he said, making you frown. “I almost felt bad calling you.”

At that, you finally looked away from Rafe, spinning around to face Barry, gaze accusatory.

“You called him?” you almost yelled.

“Yes, he did.”

You looked down at the sound of Rafe’s voice, your boyfriend finally speaking to you.

“Get up,” he sneered, nearing you, and you made a noise when he pulled you to your feet.

“Rafe…”

“Inside.”

He forced you back into the very room Barry had disappeared into, surprised to find that it was his bedroom. You didn’t get a chance to look around.

“Are you insane?” Rafe snapped, forcing you to face him with a tight grip on your arm. “Going to Barry? Letting him take you to his house? Alone?”

“He’s your friend,” you mumbled.

You watched Rafe’s nostrils flare.

“He’s not…”

Your boyfriend huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Barry and I aren’t exactly friends,” he said to you. “There’s mutual bullshit between us that makes this transactional relationship work, but he’s not my friend and even if he was, you knew better.”

You threw your arm out.

“I was trying to…”

“I know what you were trying to do,” Rafe cut you off. “Barry told me everything. So I ask once again, are you fucking insane?”

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me,” you defended yourself.

Rafe ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He chuckled to himself before leaning in, his nose brushing yours.

“Well, good job, baby because I’m not mad,” he quietly told you. “I’m fucking furious.”

“Rafe–!”

“You throw away my shit and then in an effort to replace it, you ride on the back of some guy’s bike alone to his house!”

“Well, how else was I supposed to get here?”

“Don’t come here,” he bit out at you, hitting his hands together. “How is that not obvious to you? Anything could’ve happened.” 

“I figured you knew him so it was okay…”

Your words died in the air as soon as Rafe started to shake his head.

“I don’t care if it was Topper or Kelce, you know better,” Rafe spat. “So, now not only am I pissed about the drugs, but I’m pissed about this too.”

You felt your throat tighten, and with one look at your eyes, Rafe rolled his own.

“No, no, don’t give me that bullshit…”

“I was trying to fix it!”

Silence stretched between you as you sniffed, looking away from Rafe as you wiped your face. You leaned against the door, staring at the wall as he stared at you. Neither one of you spoke for what felt like a while, and you hesitantly looked at your boyfriend again.

You figured you had a long night ahead of you, but the situation with Rafe’s coke seemed more pressing, and you accepted that you couldn’t make Rafe not mad about this.

“So…what now?” you quietly asked. “How much is he making you pay to replace it?”

Rafe didn’t respond right away, and you felt confused as he moved to sit down on Barry’s bed before reaching out to you. Despite the fact that he was frustrated with you and you were frustrated with him, you went to him, taking his hand. When he pulled you closer, there was a gleam in his eye that you didn’t quite recognize.

“Barry feels bad for you,” Rafe murmured, dragging his eyes over your frame. “To be honest… I think he’s got a bit of a hard-on for you.”

You felt your face heat up at Rafe’s crass language, feeling like you should be used to it.

“Okay,” you dragged the word out. “So how much is he charging…?”

Again, Rafe didn’t answer the question, choosing instead to pull you between his parted knees. You blinked when he slowly reached under your dress, his fingers grazing your thigh as he pressed his lips to your stomach through the fabric. You were slow to catch onto a lot of things, but never when Rafe wanted to get your clothes off of you.

“Rafe…what are you…?”

“You were just trying to fix your fuckup,” he whispered. “I know that, baby…”

He roughly cupped you, making you gasp as he forced you into his lap.

“...but you still have to make it up to me.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp as he kissed along your throat, worriedly looking at the door.

“Rafe, we can’t! This isn’t–.”

“Don’t worry about it,” was all he said to you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

His 180 gave you whiplash, and every time you tried to remind him that he was in someone else’s room—someone else’s house with said person right outside of the door—he didn’t care. You always said that Rafe was a hard person to say no to, and you really did try. After all, you didn’t feel right about this, at all, but all of your doubts completely disappeared the moment he had you pinned on top of his face. 

Your hands pressed against Barry’s wall as Rafe swiped his tongue between your folds, struggling and failing to remain quiet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear that Rafe was trying to make you scream. Every time you tried to get off of him, he only tightened his hold and sucked on you harder. It made you gasp and whimper on top of him, squirming with every swipe of his tongue.

“Rafe,” you sighed, feeling no sense of relief when he let you go.

Your chest was heaving and you were fighting to catch your breath when he wrapped his hands around your ankles, yanking you towards him and pushing your knees back. With his own thighs pressed to the backs of yours, you were trapped as he released himself, stroking his cock a few times and rubbing it against you.

“Let me hear you,” he gruffly told you just before sliding his cock past your folds.

You couldn’t hold in your sharp gasp at the intrusion, no longer caring about whose bed or house you were in. Rafe didn’t waste any time, picking up a steady pace and pushing his cock into you to the hilt over and over. You reached up to press your hands against his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Despite what you wanted, choked moans and soft gasps started to escape your lips. The sounds of them seemed to egg Rafe on, his thrusts growing rougher. Every curve of his hips against yours created static in your brain, and you couldn’t stop mewling beneath him.

“Rafe…oh my God,” you breathed, throwing your head back.

“That’s it,” he whispered from above you.

The unfamiliar bed jostled beneath his movements, and you bit your lip in an effort to stifle the noises climbing out of your throat, but Rafe only fucked you harder at that, making it nearly impossible.

“Rafe, please,” you brokenly gasped. “I’m trying… I’m trying to be…”

“...but I don’t want you to be,” he purred, leaning in and kissing the corner of your mouth. “You know I like it when you get loud.”

You did know that, but you also knew that this wasn’t your house and you were not alone. That didn’t seem to bother Rafe a bit though, and you long decided not to let it bother you when Rafe eventually had you on your hands and knees. One of your hands was pressed into the wall in front of you while the other twisted into the sheets, unintelligible sounds leaving you.

One of Rafe’s hands was pressed into the small of your back while the other was tight around your throat. Your underwear had long been yanked off and thrown somewhere, Rafe’s skin slapping against yours as he pressed kisses to your cheek and jaw.

“I’m not mad anymore,” he whispered against your skin. “...but you can’t trust everyone I trust. You understand?”

“Uh huh,” you breathed, eyes rolling.

“...and stop touching shit in my room.”

“Okay,” you whined, toes curling.

“...but this was really sweet of you…even if it did piss me off…”

“I’m sorry,” you moaned.

“I know, baby,” Rafe breathed, stretching you out around his cock.

When you came around him, you couldn’t stop moaning and whimpering—something Rafe encouraged—and you felt completely worn out when he finally pulled out of you.

The embarrassment didn’t start to set in until a few moments later, and you sat up with wide eyes. Rafe was already coming to you with your underwear, and you didn’t know what to say as he dropped to his knees and slid them up your legs for you.

“Rafe… Barry, he… Oh God,” you sighed, pressing your hands to your face.

Rafe only chuckled before grabbing said hands, pulling them away from your face and you to your feet.

“Barry’s not going to care. Trust me,” he said, leading you to the door.

“How do you know?” you wondered.

Your boyfriend’s only response was a haughty chuckle, and when you exited the room, Barry looked as calm as ever, still in the same spot.

“You two lovebirds make up?” he wondered, a grin on his lips as he eyed you both.

You avoided his gaze, face feeling so hot.

“We’re good?”

You watched as Rafe held his hand out, Barry dropping the bag of coke in it.

“Yeah, Country Club, we’re alright…”

When Rafe started to walk you out, you frowned.

“Wait, but you didn’t pay him…”

Rafe leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t understand, but you didn’t get a chance to think on it more, Barry telling you goodbye from the door.

“Bye, Mrs. Country Club!”

Not wanting to be rude, you peeked around Rafe’s arm.

“Bye, Barry!”

“Pleasure doing business with y’all…!”

You know he’s there even as you face away from the panes. The moonlight casts his shadow along the wall of your bedroom, broad shouldered and still as a tombstone. You don’t move, continuing to lay on your side as you trace the shape of him with your eyes. Cicadas and crickets sing in time with one another, a sweet song that sours at the edges as he stands among them.

The longer you lie still, the heavier the room becomes. The air thickens like soup on the stove, slow to bubble. The shadow raises its arm, all you can do is listen as the sound of nails scratching gently along glass fills the four walls. 

He’s waiting.

He always waits.

You don’t need to invite him in, you haven’t since the first night.

He likes you to.

“Come in.”

When the pane creaks open behind you, slow and careful, you don’t flinch.

You breathe through your nose. The scent that rolls in with him isn’t human—copper and mineral, sweet like decay under sunbaked wood. It smells like the road, like blood, like the belly of something unholy. It smells like him.

“Remmick…”

Even now, as his boots touch your floorboards like thunder soaked in molasses, you don’t turn to face him. You’ve long since learned that looking at him too early gives him the satisfaction of watching your pupils dilate, your breath catch, your pulse flutter like a moth trapped in a mason jar. 

His voice is a rasp, smoke behind your ear. “You been waitin’ on me, honey?”

Remmick steps into the shine of the moon, eyes glinting dark and red-rimmed in the light.

He’s sin stitched in skin. Wears the allure of his very being like a preacher coming to warn you off temptation, but you know better. You’ve tasted temptation, bathed in it body and soul. Let it crawl between your legs and drip from your lips. 

You barely have time to breathe before he’s on you. Calloused hands, cold lips, teeth that drag across your neck but never pierce. There’s blood on his mouth already, you can feel the slickness of it as it stains your skin—it’s not yours, yet.

You watched him once. Stood by as he fed, watched impassively as the man beneath him writhed and choked on the blood flooding his torn throat, arms and legs scrambling in the dirt until the last traces of life finally faded from his eyes. He was left nothing but an empty husk, the color from his skin drained as the last few moments of horror were preserved on his face.

Remmick turned to look at you when it was done, blood drenched and nowhere near satiated. He fucked you for hours that night, right there on the dry dirt. Your face pressed into the earth as he took you from behind over and over again, cunt aching and abused around the ungodly stretch of his cock.

Your fingers shake as you curl them in the sheets, your body already aware of what’s coming. You’ve been craving it. Begging for it in the silence of empty, rotting pews.

Even as your mouth tried in vain to pray the memories away, your hips have been rolling against the mattress all night, slick with more than sweat, damp with more than fear. There’s a scent to it—ripe and hot, threaded through with iron. You’re bleeding. And he knows.

“I can smell you, baby.” You shudder as his lips brush your neck with every word, goosebumps pebbling over your skin as your cunt throbs shamefully between your thighs. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth, thick and hued in a dusty pink as blood melts into it.

Your body screams at you to reach out, to drag your tongue along the filthy mess and make it your own. Your lips part in a soft breath as Remmick smiles down at you wolfishly, sharp fangs catching the moonlight dangerously as it gleams through the open window.

“Sweet little wound. Givin’ it up for me already, angel?”

A broken sound blooms in your chest, caught in the lust and horror forming a knot in your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, soft breasts heaving with every shallow breath as big, frigid hands skate down the offered expanse of your body.

“Christ.”

A dark chuckle rings out over your head. “Trust me, he ain’t here, just me.”

Warmth burns at your cheeks, but the embarrassment has long been worked out of you after all this time.

Remmick likes it best like this. When you’re raw. Unclean. When there’s blood in your panties and God in your mouth.

He slides his hand beneath the thin cotton of your nightgown, and chuckles when he feels it—your cunt already bare, adorned with blood and slick, thick and messy, coating his fingers like oil paint. He brings it to his mouth and sucks them clean, the sound obscene, reverent. 

And the way he moans at the taste—full-throated, low in his chest, hungry and pleased and damn near feral—makes your spine arch. You swear you can feel your blood rush towards his voice like it’s called.

Remmick glides down your body like a serpent curling around the branches of a tree, urging you to bite from the forbidden fruit just as he will.

He never asks permission. Just parts your thighs with the heel of his palms and settles his weight between them like he belongs there—like he was carved from your ribcage in a past life to fuck the God out of you.

You feel it when his hand grazes the inside of your thigh, hot and slick. The mess between your legs has him inhaling hard through his nose, a deep growl tearing its way from his chest. His tongue comes out to wet the dry skin of his lips. Your heart stutters as his breath fans cool over your sweltering heat.

The first lick is obscene. A broad drag of tongue from hole to clit that has Remmick groaning like he’s starving. You think, a bit hysterically, that he is. He always is.

Although, you don’t know what he’s hungrier for—your cunt, or the blood slicking it.

He fucks you open with his mouth like he’ll be judged for it. Hands branding bruises into the soft skin of your hips. Forked tongue licking you until your thighs quake on either side of his head, until your breath hiccups into desperate moans that sound more like confession.

Your shaking hands fist in his hair, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. “God–”

Sharp pinpricks of pain bloom white hot between your legs. Your eyes dart down just quick enough to watch the way his nails pierce your flesh. Tiny trails of blood running in weak streams in time with the helpless pulse of your cunt. Fresh against the drying evidence of his red stained hands stamping their prints over your skin.

Remmick pulls back, mouth soaked. Your blood streaks his chin, his cheeks, his nose. It stains his teeth and tongue. He grins, and it’s terrible. “What’d I tell you, girl? God ain’t coming.”

He spits on your cunt. Thick. Filthy. Blood and saliva and slick mixing on your skin like a sacrament.

Then his mouth is back on your clit, rough and clever. He kisses the sensitive bundle of nerves once before dipping his head, thick fingers spread your lips apart, wide enough to watch your hole convulse and shake for him. A deep, evil sound fills the room as his lips descend onto you once more.

You can feel the blood trickle out as he sucks, feel his tongue move in tandem with the sharp press of his fangs. He doesn’t bite yet. He’s teasing. 

Tempting. 

Worshipping. 

You whimper. He groans. “Keep makin’ that sound,” he pants, voice hoarse. “That pretty little hurtin’ sound. Devil’s listenin’, baby."

You can't help but obey him, a symphony of pathetically sinful noises pouring from between your parted lips like hail mary’s. You writhe on the mattress, twisting the soft curls fisted in your hands tightly as your body trembles. Your rosary swings haplessly from the bedpost, deep red beads gleaming like an omen you’re blind to. 

Remmick pulls back once again, panting as he rests his soiled face against your thigh to peer up at you like a lonewolf stalks a lamb grazing far too close to its den. “Say you missed me, darlin’.”

You did. You hate it. You do.

“Say it,” he snarls, dragging his teeth along the vulnerable skin, breaking it so shallowly it stings.

“I missed you.”

He bites.

You scream.

You come on his mouth with your thighs trembling and your eyes rolled back far enough to strain.

Remmick won't stop. Not until he's drunk his fill, until your thighs are sticky and raw and he can kiss you with your own blood on his lips.

Outside, the cicadas resume their song.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: extra special shoutout to my husband @ebodebo for advocating for the posting of this fic with a near violent enthusiasm, she's to blame for this. thank you so much for reading!

⭑

You hadn’t seen nor talked to JJ in three weeks.

That hadn’t been your goal, having every intention of seeing him again after that day at The Wreck—even if only to officially break it off between you. Things hadn’t worked out that way though and before you knew it, a week went by and then another and another. It was a combination of things really—Rafe being around a lot more above all else—but you also didn’t think you had it in you to look JJ in the eyes and reject him again.

The day at The Wreck had been hard enough, and you’d only succeeded then because you were so overwhelmed by Kie’s words, desperate to get away and think. She hadn’t said anything untrue, anything wrong, and that’s what made her words sting the most. Sure, JJ talked a big game about figuring out a way to safely get you away from Rafe…but in practice…? You’d been with Rafe for over two years and still hadn’t been able to come up with a scenario that wouldn’t come back to bite you.

JJ wanted to save you, and you wanted to let him, but it was unrealistic. The only chance you had would be to move halfway across the world and even then… Rafe could be scarily determined to see something through, and it wasn’t like he lacked the means and resources to simply follow you. He hated to lose.

Sometimes you wondered if JJ really understood just how dangerous Rafe was.

…or if he simply enjoyed sneaking around with his girlfriend more.

Such a thought seemed so unfair to you—especially since there was no doubt in your mind that JJ cared about you—but you’d told him the same thing before all of this even started. You’d had no problem telling him that you dating Rafe Cameron had a hand in his aggressive pursuit of you. You still believed that actually, and it wasn’t like you minded all that much because you were getting something out of this too and JJ was making you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time.

…but Kie was right.

She was so right. You either had to leave Rafe or put an end to your ‘relationship’ with JJ. Anything outside of that wasn’t up for consideration, and between you and JJ, only one of you had what it took to do the right—and smart—thing. So, you hadn’t seen JJ in weeks…and it hurt.

You didn’t know why, but you hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

This person who had become this cliche bright light in an otherwise dark life was no longer there. You didn’t look forward to the following day anymore nor anticipate hearing from someone who never failed to put a smile on your face. The nights that Rafe spent with his father or at home were no longer filled with a familiar presence to keep you company. When Rafe left the other side of your bed empty…it stayed that way.

…and against your will, you found yourself crying a lot more these days.

“Sweetheart, you really need to get more sleep,” your mother cooed as she gently touched your face. “Everything okay…?”

You nodded at her as you stirred your creamer into your coffee.

“Yeah,” you assured her. “Just having trouble sleeping lately.”

She hummed at that, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m going to give you something for that,” she told you, rubbing your shoulder. “...and something for those bags under your eyes too. It’s making you look ill.”

You didn’t have a response for that other than a soft ‘thanks’. She hummed at you before your father pulled her attention away, both of them getting caught up in a conversation about the broken garbage disposal. Their voices faded to the background as you continued to stir your coffee, even when it had long blended into an even toffee color. You only stopped when your name was called.

Your parents were looking at you expectantly when you glanced up.

“Sorry?”

Your mother chuckled, albeit throwing you an odd look while doing so.

“I said you’ve gotten a dress for Rafe’s party, right? It’s the big twenty-one, and you can’t go wearing something you already have,” she said, sounding like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

You swallowed at the mention of his birthday, unable to forget about its approach even if you wanted to.

“Rafe bought a dress for me months ago.”

Your mother’s smile made your stomach turn.

“Of course, he did,” she commented, gently squeezing your arm. “He’s always so sweet to you.”

You weren’t able to keep looking at her as a fondness settled on her features as she thought about your relationship.

“I’d ask to see it, but I want to be surprised, and plus he never disappoints,” she chuckled. “He always knows just what to pick, and you look so radiant every time.”

Her parting words made you sigh, and for the umpteenth time, you imagined how they’d react if they ever knew the true nature of your relationship with Rafe. They doted on him because he seemingly doted on you. Like any decent parents, they were skeptical of him until he proved himself, and now years later—after he’d long started putting his hands on you—they still thought you two were the best thing to ever happen to each other.

If they knew the truth, you had no doubt it would break their hearts for more reasons than one.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised to see you…”

Sarah’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you were forced to pull your gaze away from the picture they had on the wall. You didn’t doubt that it was some piece Rose had brought into the house.

“It’s Rafe’s birthday, so, of course you’re going to be here, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks…”

She hadn’t seen you in weeks, and just like with JJ, it hadn’t been intentional, but you still felt bad. In an effort to distance yourself from the younger blond, you’d pulled away from anything that had to do with him. You didn’t know if you just didn’t want to chance seeing him or hearing about him, but that had included making yourself scarce around Sarah too. Considering that you were dating her brother, it was almost an impressive feat.

“Are you okay? Because as I’m saying this I realize it has been weeks since I’ve seen you, and when Pope asked about you the other day, I realized I couldn’t tell him how you were because I don’t know myself.”

You didn’t know how to respond, unable to tell Sarah that you felt like you were constantly outside of your own body, experiencing everything indirectly since you’d unofficially broken things off with one of her best friends. You missed him—more than you thought you would—and you were back to the reality of what your life was like—and would forever be like—without JJ in it.

So, you simply said:

“I’m fine.”

Sarah didn’t look like she believed you, and you watched as she pulled her lip between her teeth.

“None of us did anything, right?” you were already shaking your head. “...because everything seemed fine and then-.”

“No, of course not,” you said with a light chuckle, trying to reassure her. “It’s just stuff at home that I’ve been handling. Nothing serious, but it’s kept me really busy lately.”

The younger girl slowly nodded at that, still looking unsure.

“If you say so,” she commented. “We’re still down whenever you can pull yourself away.”

It was a very basic gesture, but it both warmed your heart and made your stomach sink. You knew that you’d either have to man up and face the possibility of running into JJ despite the fact that you were now over, or tell Sarah you didn’t want to be friends anymore, and the latter you couldn’t ever bring yourself to do. You enjoyed being around her and her friends, and one could argue that you should be taking advantage of your new free time now that you were no longer seeing JJ.

…but the thought of facing him so soon after essentially ghosting him made your chest hurt. You were self aware enough to admit that you didn't think you were strong enough to face him and walk away again. With JJ out of the picture, you were quickly reminded of just how awful your life was before he decided to kiss you that night, and it was so easy to just let yourself go back to what made you happy.

You were afraid that your resolve would crumble with just one look.

How easy it would be to tell yourself that you deserved this and that your relationship with Rafe was hardly a relationship, at all. It wasn’t a hard argument to make either. Rafe had beat you and threatened to kill you and even put you into the hospital. Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t blame you for what you’d done, but it wasn’t just a matter of right and wrong and who considers what's classified as either of those things.

Rafe would kill you.

That was something you knew for a fact. He’d threatened to do so on several occasions, but you knew that if Rafe ever found out about you and JJ—even in a sense of past tense—there would be nothing to talk about. He would kill you and more than likely JJ too. Sneaking around with JJ just for the hell of it—with no actual foolproof plan to safely get away from Rafe for good—was a death wish.

It was beyond foolish, unfair to JJ, and dangerous for you both.

It was why you greeted Rafe with a gentle smile when he finally found you some time later, reaching for you and threading his fingers through yours. Keeping him happy would keep you safe. You knew that, and somewhere along the way, you’d gotten comfortable and allowed JJ to make you forget that. Your only viable options were Rafe…or death, and anything in between was just a longer and complicated way to achieve the latter.

“I figured I’d find you gossiping with Sarah,” he drawled, tone light-hearted.

You attributed his good mood to this day—and party—being entirely focused on him. You smoothed down the eggshell dress he bought for you, relieved that it was still blemish free. You grimaced as you recalled the last dress you’d spilled some wine on while attending yet another party his parents had thrown.

Rafe took note of the action, and he paused to admire you.

You watched as his blue eyes roamed over your frame, drinking in everything from your perfectly styled hair to the baby pink polish on your toes. The house held that moderate hum that came with a full guest list, but Rafe was entirely focused on you. It felt like one of those rare moments when he was genuinely happy with you, and the look on his face was reminiscent of when you both were eighteen and in love and he was sweeping you off of your feet.

Rafe moved closer and fingered an errant piece of hair before putting it back in place.​​ That seemed to satisfy him, and you watched as the corner of his lips curved upwards just the slightest. His fingers fell to your chin where he gently grazed your skin, and Rafe straightened, looking you over again.

“You look perfect.”

The way in which he said it broke the spell, and suddenly the look in his eyes was so clear. You felt shiny all of a sudden—metallic and heavy and like you belonged on a shelf. Your heart sank, and you didn’t know why because you knew that. You’d long accepted that to Rafe, you were some prize, molded perfectly into his ideal girlfriend who would never dare leave him or speak out against him, and who’d be his support no matter what.

For a split second, you’d really forgotten that, and you gave him a small smile.

“I’m wearing a perfect dress.”

Rafe only smiled at that before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling you along.

Everyone was moving outside to cut the cake and lavish Rafe with even more attention. You held his hand tight as they did, playing your role and thinking about the many years to come in which you’d have to do this. You’d long resigned yourself to it, but for some reason it was getting to you today more than usual. Perhaps it was because you could see it.

All over their faces.

They all looked at you and Rafe with such fondness and hope and happiness. They saw Ward Cameron’s only son with your father’s only daughter and pictured the future generations of Figure 8 and who would start it. They looked at you two and saw two sons and two daughters and a white picket fence and maybe even a dog. It caused a shiver to travel down your spine, and just when you considered excusing yourself, your boyfriend spoke.

Everyone quieted down as he gently tapped a glass, and you were forced to remain exactly where you were.

Rafe stared into the glass for a moment before leisurely setting it aside. You knew that this was his typical speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and showed endless gratitude to Ward and even briefly mentioned you, but there was a look that passed over his face that you couldn’t name. He looked happy—as expected—but there was a hint of haughtiness in that smile.

“I’m thankful that all of you came to support my family and I to not only celebrate my birthday, but to usher in this new era as I officially join my father’s business as well…”

Hums of appreciation and congratulations reached your ears, and you threw Rafe a smile when he glanced at you.

“I pretty much have everything I want, so…” he waved his hand around. “...gifts and all that typically don’t mean anything to me at this age.”

You kept your eyes on him, wondering what direction this speech was going in.

“However…” Rafe’s smile grew. “There is one gift I’m hoping my wonderful girlfriend will give to me…”

The gasps and commotion around you sounded more horrifying to your ears than exciting as Rafe turned to you and lowered himself to the ground. He was on one knee and reaching into his pocket, and despite the fact that you knew what that meant, you were in complete denial—frozen where you stood—up until he said the words.

“...by telling me ‘yes’ when I ask her to marry me.”

You heard your mother cry out behind you, and if there was any thought that she knew about this, it was quickly gone. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Rose covering her mouth in excitement, and you wanted to look around to see if anyone felt as horrified as you felt, but you knew the answer.

If you dared to look around, everyone would be smiling and looking on in awe and anticipation as they watched Rafe Cameron propose to you. You were sure that if you were met with the sight, it would terrify you, making you feel like you were knee deep in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You glanced up anyway, and only confirmed your suspicions, and you had the sudden urge to cry.

Why was everyone so happy? Why wasn’t anyone else petrified?

It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize it was because no one else knew. No one else knew that Rafe choked you when he felt you were getting too smart with him. No one else knew that the man on one knee before you was also the very same to break your nose and put you in the hospital. No one knew that the man proposing to you had once put the barrel of a gun in your mouth and threatened to kill you.

None of them knew that, and the one person who did didn’t look nearly as horrified as you felt.

You felt like you’d been in your head forever, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. Rafe was still knelt before you with that haughty smile and satisfied gleam in his eye, and you knew it was because he knew he’d won. You wouldn’t dare tell him no in front of your families and their friends and put a crack in the perfect picture you two had created.

The ring was a marquise solitaire with a yellow gold band, and if you were guessing correctly, you knew it was at least 3 carats. Tears spilled over as you looked at it, recalling a time where you’d told Rafe that was your dream engagement ring, but that was back then when Rafe was your dream man, and you were in your dream relationship. Both him and the relationship were a nightmare, now, and being presented with that ring of all rings made you sob.

When those blue eyes of his dimmed just a tad, in an effort to protect yourself, your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up, desperately telling him what you knew he wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

The word came out of your mouth and was said in your voice, but you didn’t approve of it, and you broke down again as cheers erupted from around you. Your vision was blurry as Rafe slid the ring onto your finger—a perfect fit—and he was quick to stand and pull you against him. Someone was loudly crying, and it sounded a lot like your mother, but the both of you were crying for entirely different reasons.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your hair as he rocked you both from side to side. You could feel yourselves being closed in on, everyone wanting to come and personally congratulate you, and you shrunk in on yourself, wanting to be as far away from here as possible.

Rafe’s lips grazed your ear.

“You just made me the happiest man on earth.”

You turned away from your bruised reflection, thinking that the evolution of your relationship seemed to bring out a side of Rafe that even scared him a little. You thought that he couldn’t keep his hands off of you before, but it was nothing in comparison to now that he could call you his fiancee. It rolled off of his tongue whenever he was inside of you, and it made it impossible to disassociate and try not to live in the moment of what your life had become.

You didn’t know if he was excited because he was so close to tying you to him forever, or if the ring on your finger increased the sense of ownership that he felt he had over you, but too many times had Rafe left you a little more battered and bruised every time he got you into bed as of late. Thinking about the harsh feel of his teeth on your back only days ago brought tears to your eyes, and you reminded yourself that you knew the trajectory of this journey the day you lied to the police.

After the successful proposal, the party had gone on for another two hours, every individual guest wanting their own solo moment to congratulate the happy couple. Rose and your mother endlessly fawned over the ring, and when you finally got a moment alone with your father, you discovered that he’d known for weeks.

After all, it was weeks ago that Rafe had formally asked for his permission.

“I don’t think any man will ever be good enough for you,” he’d said. “...but he treats you right and respected me enough to come to me.”

The tears in your normally stoic father’s eyes only served to remind you that everyone else was living in an entirely different reality with an alternate version of your relationship. You were feeling more trapped and cornered than ever, and everyone else around you was…elated.

All except one.

“Oh my God,” Sarah had said the moment she'd been able to get a moment with you.

She took your hand and just stared at the ring, and you hadn’t needed to be a genius to know that she wasn’t as over the moon as everyone else. It was all over her face, but despite that, she attempted to be happy for you, and you appreciated the gesture.

“You’re getting married,” she breathed. “To my brother.”

You’d pulled your hand away, swallowing, and beyond all of the overwhelming emotions you were feeling, you still remembered someone whose face you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Can you…can you not tell anyone else, please?”

She’d looked at you like you were crazy, an incredulous scoff escaping her.

“All of Figure 8 will know by tomorrow morning, you can’t be serious,” she shook her head at you with wide and confused eyes.

“Yes, but we both knew there isn’t really anyone from this side of the island you could possibly tell…”

Sarah seemed to understand that you didn’t want her friends knowing, and although you could see she wanted to know why, she eventually nodded.

“...okay. Sure,” she whispered, tilting her head at you. “Are you happy?”

You had opened and closed your mouth, prepared to lie when she continued.

“You just…don’t seem all that happy.”

“Of course, I am,” you’d said with a deep breath. “Rafe and I are getting married. Why wouldn’t I be?”

It was a loaded question, one you hoped you would never have to answer honestly.

With the heaviness of the ring on your finger and Rafe’s suffocating presence and your mother’s choking enthusiasm about the eventual wedding, you took full advantage the next time Rafe and Ward went out of town, telling Sarah you’d love to come over and hang out with her and Cleo and Kie. You desperately needed a break from the constant reminder that the rest of your life was about to begin.

You had left the ring in your bedroom because you just wanted one night without thinking about it, but you appreciated your decision all the more when the boys had unexpectedly shown up. Nevermind the fact that you weren’t quite ready to face JJ, but you really weren't ready to face him with a huge rock on your finger, and the words on your tongue explaining to him what it meant.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cleo had half heartedly apologized when she answered the door, pressing a kiss to Pope’s cheek. “...but the house is empty, yeah?”

It was true.

Wheezie was staying with a friend and Rose was on an overnight girls’ trip. You couldn’t even find it in you to be nervous about being around the guys with Rafe none the wiser. You were at his house, and it would take nothing to just drive home, but most importantly, oddly enough, you were more concerned with being face to face with JJ again, at the moment.

Like a coward, you were unable to look him in the eye when you heard his voice for the first time in a month, and you were thankful that too much was going on for your uncharacteristic silence to be noticeable. You felt his gaze on you though, goosebumps erupting over your skin and feeling much hotter, but your eyes remained on your lap.

You only looked up just in time to see him brush past Kie to find a seat, and your brows furrowed as you looked between them. You had never known JJ to be cold, it just wasn’t like him, but there was no doubt about it that he was giving Kie the cold shoulder. The dark-haired girl saw your frown, and she merely shook her head.

“I feel like we haven’t seen you in years,” Pope said to you, reaching out for a high-five.

“Sure feels that way, don’t it.”

JJ’s comment made you grimace, and when you dared to look over at him, his gaze was already on you.

Coming face to face with him after what felt like forever made your heart skip a beat, and you struggled to look away.

“Sorry,” you eventually apologized to Pope, ignoring JJ’s comment. “Rafe and family stuff just took up so much time.”

He waved off your apology, assuring you that he was joking, but you knew that JJ wasn’t, and when the blond got up to get a drink, you impulsively followed. The rest of them—sans Kie—were none the wiser, and you briefly glanced over your shoulder before going into the kitchen. JJ was standing in the fridge, and it was only hitting you in that moment that you hadn’t seen nor talked to him in weeks.

You already knew that you missed him, but it was hitting you much harder as you stood so close to him while being unable to touch him. He looked like he was doing okay, and his hair was just as blond, and when he straightened, you were reminded of what it felt like to have those arms wrapped around you. You missed the feeling, and you missed running your hands through his hair and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat whenever you had the chance.

In this moment, it was very hard to remember why you had left him. However, you reminded yourself that you hadn’t followed him to talk about you two. There was no ‘you two’ anymore.

There was just you, and there was just JJ.

“Why are you treating Kie like that?”

JJ didn’t respond at first, merely turning to you and staring you down for a few moments before a mocking smirk graced his pink lips.

“That’s all you have to say to me…?”

You didn’t respond to that, and when it became clear that you simply wouldn’t, JJ scoffed. He shook his head, opening a beer that was meant for Ward, no doubt, before leaning his back against the counter.

“You know why,” was what he said with a straight face.

Now, it was your turn to scoff.

“It’s not her fault,” you defended, continuing when he started to shake his head. “She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, anything that we didn’t already know. We were just choosing to ignore it.”

“You told me you weren’t going to let what she said get to you. You nodded, you assured me of that, and then I don’t hear from you for a month.”

He’d dropped the cavalier facade, and you could see the anger and hurt passing over his features. 

“You don’t answer my calls, you don’t answer my texts, and if it wasn’t for Sarah, I wouldn’t have even known you were alive.”

“JJ-.”

“We were happy-.”

“We were delusional,” you quietly hissed. “Kie was right. Don’t hate her for something that was inevitable.”

That word seemed to bother JJ, and you watched as his features hardened. Your former lover stared at you for what felt like a long time before glancing away. You watched him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and you didn’t like the look he fixed you with.

“Did you forget the deal we made…?”

When you frowned at him, he continued.

“That I would keep quiet about Rafe so long as you let me be there for you?”

You shifted your feet, feeling uncomfortable at the mention of that. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to acknowledge that, but JJ merely nodded with a hum. He took another swig of beer, and you really hated the look he fixed you with then.

“If you’re not going to hold up your end of the deal then why should I hold up mine?”

Your heart sank to your gut at that, and you blinked at JJ in disbelief, unable to believe that even he believed he was capable of what he was insinuating. Not only that, but it was such a cruel thing to even bluff about, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“JJ…that’s… No,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer your question, choosing to gesture to the living room.

“What’s to stop me from pulling Sarah aside and telling her exactly why you hardly have a life outside of your relationship with her brother?”

Your lips parted, and you just stared at him…unable to believe what you were hearing.

“You won’t let me be there for you,” he spat out with a shrug. “...and someone has to be.”

You finally found your voice, and you blinked back tears.

“That’s not your decision to make,” you quietly bit out.

“...and I disagree,” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. “We’re not talking about the typical asshole boyfriend here. Your life is in danger every time you’re around him.”

You furiously blinked, looking towards the ceiling.

“As long as he’s happy…I’m safe,” you breathed, lips trembling as you looked at JJ again. “I just have to-.”

“...and when Ward pisses him off again? When you’re not as cold as you should be to some strange man? When he decides Topper was a bit too nice to you? Then what?”

JJ moved closer with every question, a sneer on his lips as he stared you down.

“There’s no way to keep a guy like that happy.”

You flinched, leaning away from JJ as he leaned in. He looked between your tearful eyes, and while yes he was angry and hurt over how you decided to end things, you could see clear as day that JJ was also scared. He was scared for you and whatever future was available to you now that you’d decided to completely submit to Rafe and what he wanted for you both.

His face softened the longer he stared at you, and just as he lifted his hand, footsteps reached your ears.

You were in front of the open fridge just as John B. came in, handing him a drink when he asked for one. You stared at the food in front of you while you attempted to fix your face and get your emotions in check. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you wondered if you were just about to fall back into old habits had it not been for the brunette. You slipped out of the kitchen while John B. brought up something from the other day with JJ, and your smile was half hearted as Cleo pulled you to sit beside her.

You tried to engage with them, but it was hard. You couldn’t get JJ’s words out of your mind and how right they were despite your denial of them. Keeping Rafe happy and discouraging him from hurting you would only work for so long at a time. Eventually a day would come where Ward pissed him off and he’d take it out on your body in some form or another. It was inevitable that Topper or Kelce or some other guy would slip and dare to treat you like a human being, something that Rafe would no doubt interpret as a line being crossed.

It made your heart sink to think about.

So caught up in your thoughts, you paid no mind to JJ and John B. returning from the kitchen until you felt liquid spilling all over you and the part of the couch you were sitting on. It smelled too strong to be anything other than beer, and you heard everyone scold JJ just as you jumped to your feet.

“Why were you trying to carry so many?” Sarah loudly tore into him, alternating between looking over you and looking over the stained couch. “Now Y/N has to change, and you have to fix this couch.”

They briefly went back and forth while you tried to keep your shirt from sticking to you, assuring Sarah it was fine before making your way upstairs to do just as she said you would. You hurried into Rafe’s room, peeling off your shirt and your shorts the moment you were through the threshold. Your skin was already feeling sticky, and if he’d gotten beer on more than just your back and shoulders and arm, then you would’ve admitted defeat and hopped in the shower.

You were half dressed and wiping off the last of it when you heard Sarah’s voice in the hall.

“You have clothes here, right?”

“Yeah,” you called, grabbing one of the many shirts you kept in Rafe’s drawers.

“Okay, because JJ felt bad and wanted to be sure you had something to change into, and then that made me unsure-.”

You were facing her and fully dressed the moment she cut herself off, swallowing the rest of her words. She was just inside of Rafe’s room, hand still on the door handle as she stared at you. Something passed over her face that you’d never seen before, and her brows knitted together as she gave you a strange look.

“What was that?”

Now, it was your turn to frown.

“What was what?”

Her mouth opened and closed—like she was doubting herself—before she tucked some hair behind her ear.

“On your back.”

You felt your skin grow cold at her words, heart sinking as you quickly realized what she was referring to. Now, your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to respond. Your genuine confusion had quickly morphed into something that you normally only felt around Rafe—fear. 

Giving her a soft hum, you pulled on your shirt and twisted around.

“Nothing. The shirt’s clean,” you told her.

Sarah gave a soft chuckle, but sounded off—uncomfortable.

“No, under your shirt…”

You stepped away when she reached for you, and the blonde took notice, that frown returning. It deepened the longer she stared at you, and you attempted to lighten the mood.

“It was probably just the lighting, my back’s fine,” you assured her.

She rolled her eyes at you.

“That didn’t look like a shadow. I know what a shadow looks like-.”

“Sarah, come on, my back is fine,” you waved her off, moving out of her reach. “Let’s just go back downstairs.”

Your attempt to get past her was successful, but your efforts to leave the room were halted when Sarah pulled up on the end of your shirt.

The gasp that she let out was loud—horrified—and when you hurried to turn your back away from her, she had both of her hands over her mouth. Her wide eyes were frozen exactly where your back just was, and it took her a few moments to lift her gaze. All the while, your heart was threatening to jump out of your chest. You stared at her and she stared at you, both of you silent—her with horror and you with fear.

“What the hell is that?” she whispered when she finally uncovered her mouth.

“Sarah, it’s nothing-.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” she breathed. “There are bruises—that was a bite mark!”

You worriedly looked over your shoulder, scared her voice would carry.

“Where did that come from? Did Rafe do that?”

“It’s not what you think-!”

“Then what is it? Tell me what it is since it’s not what I think,” she spat.

You struggled to come up with an answer, resigned to admit that the truth—while bad—was the best thing you had up your sleeve.

“Things get a little rough sometimes in bed-.”

Sarah cut you off with a scoff, shaking her head at you.

“I don’t believe that,” she cried. “Even if I did, that looks disgusting and painful!”

She hurried to get past you, and you struggled to stop her.

“What are you doing?” you asked her, voice panicked.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling our father-.”

“Sarah, stop!”

She twisted out of your grip, and you chased her down the hall. Your mingled voices were loud as you argued, bouncing off of the walls as you chased her down the stairs. You didn’t pay any mind to her friends and what they were witnessing, only concerned with stopping Sarah from picking up her phone. You could feel their eyes on you as you grabbed her again, Sarah fighting to get you off of her.

“Woah, woah, hey!” John B. yelled, jumping in to separate you two.

“Sarah, leave it-!”

“Are you crazy? You expect me to just-.”

She was cut off as John B. successfully pulled her away from you, a hand on your own arm pulling you away. The problem arose again when John B. let her go, and you pushed your hand against the person behind you to get to her phone before she did. You both fought over it, you on top of her on the couch as you tried to yank it out of her hands. 

You could feel several pairs of hands between you, attempting to separate you again and keep it that way. JJ’s voice was in your ear as he pulled you off of her, your legs kicking out as you pointed at her phone.

“JJ, stop her,” you tearfully spat. “She’s trying to call Ward.”

When he made you face him, his own was twisted into confusion, and he kept his arms wrapped around you.

“What are you talking about? Why is she trying to call Ward?”

“Okay, both of you calm down,” Cleo spoke up, and when you looked over you saw that she was holding Sarah’s phone up and out of reach. “What’s going on?”

“She’s hurt! It’s all over her back,” Sarah choked out, chest heaving and face distressed. 

At those words, JJ tensed against you, and you gave him a pleading look when his eyes finally met yours again.

“She tried to give me some bullshit story, but I don’t believe it,” the words tumbled out of Sarah’s mouth, and JJ let you go. “JJ, she-.”

“I know,” he said as he neared her, Sarah speaking to him the moment she noticed his approach.

“No, you don’t know. There are bruises all over her back…” you felt several pairs of eyes on you at that. “...and…and…”

“Sarah, I know-.”

“No, you don’t understand-!”

“Sarah, I know,” JJ finally screamed, taking her shoulders and gently shaking her.

The entire house was quiet as his words lingered in the air, and you swore that you could hear a needle drop. Your entire body was trembling for so many reasons, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as Sarah’s eyes widened, her gaze never breaking from JJ’s. So many emotions passed over her features—confusion, understanding, shock, betrayal—before finally settling on two.

Sarah was horrified…and angry.

“You know?” she whispered. “What…? What does that even mean?”

She looked between you two, and you weren’t able to hold her gaze, your eyes landing on the floor. You were the center of attention at the moment, and you certainly felt it.

“H-how long have you…?”

JJ didn’t answer her unfinished question right away, sighing.

“I found out months ago…”

He trailed off at the audible reaction he got, and when you looked up, Sarah’s lips were parted. John B. was behind her, and he was looking between you and JJ with an expression that rivaled his girlfriend’s.

“Months?”

Sarah turned her gaze to you again.

“Months?” she choked out. “Months…”

She repeated it like she couldn’t believe it, and JJ took advantage of her shock to get his point across.

“Sarah, you cannot call Ward,” JJ slowly told her.

“Why the hell not?” John B. wondered, and you were sure you’d never heard him sound so angry.

“...because he’s with Rafe.”

Kie whispered it, coming to the same conclusion and realization that you and JJ were trying to lead Sarah to. The blonde girl in question looked at Kie in shock as if she herself just realized that, and she furiously blinked, shaking her head.

“Kie’s right, okay? He’s with Rafe, and you cannot call him about this. Not now, not ever…”

Only you and JJ knew that Ward was well aware of his son’s nature, and neither of you seemed eager to break that news to Sarah who was so sure her father would be the person to call because he’d do what was right.

“I don’t believe this,” she shakily whispered, twisting a hand into the hair at the top of her head. “He’s hurting you, and I’m just expected to-.”

“Yes,” JJ snapped at her. “You don’t understand-.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand!” they were in each other’s faces. “I don’t understand how Rafe has been hurting her for months apparently and I’ve been in the complete dark about it. I don’t understand how you knew and didn’t say anything!”

JJ sharply inhaled.

“I don’t understand how you’re standing here and telling me not to pick up the phone, and she’s agreeing. I don’t understand any of this,” Sarah tearfully said, shoving JJ. 

You stumbled back before turning away and searching for your purse. The sight of them arguing—because of you—and the feeling of everyone staring at you and knowing the truth was making you lightheaded and nauseous all at once, and you desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.

Kie called your name first, and then Pope, but you were already at the door when JJ finally chased after you. You could hear Sarah and Kie going back and forth as you stepped outside, and your vision was blurry when JJ finally caught up with you.

“They’re going to talk to her, okay?”

You sniffed, hurrying towards your car.

“She’s confused and scared and mad, right now, so she doesn’t get it, but she will,” JJ assured you. “We’re gonna talk to her.”

JJ’s hand was on your arm as you reached your car, and you stared at your reflections in the window for a few moments before a sob escaped you. JJ pulled you into his arms, gently shushing you as you cried into his shoulder. He didn’t offer any words of encouragement because this was an unprecedented situation, and neither of you knew what was going to happen from here. Nobody else was ever supposed to know.

…but especially Sarah.

JJ held you for the longest time, and resolute in your decision to end things with him, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling. You deeply inhaled and relaxed at the familiar scent that was JJ Maybank. You allowed yourself to find comfort in the warmth of his arms, and you could feel JJ doing the same.

When he started to pull away, he kept his arms around you, and when you glanced up, your eyes met his. He looked sad for you and scared for you but above all, he looked like he missed you, and when JJ started to lean in, you swallowed.

“Rafe asked me to marry him…”

The blond froze.

“...and I said yes.”

Your lips brushed his as you spoke, and he remained there for a moment or two before finally leaning back to look you in the eyes. If you thought JJ looked horrified before, it was nothing in comparison to how he looked after hearing that you and Rafe were getting married.

“...and if I asked you not to?”

You gave a humorless chuckle.

“I’d say that a girl can dream.”

JJ softly said your name, and you shrugged.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” you whispered. “He asked me in front of our families and all of their friends, so it’s not like I could say no.”

You watched as JJ’s expression hardened.

“This was never fair to you,” you said to him.”Please, stop hating Kie for pointing that out.”

“I can make my own damn decisions,” JJ threw out, and you swallowed down a sigh. “...and right now, I’m telling you that I’m not letting you marry him.”

It was a good thing that you didn’t know how to respond to that, because JJ continued.

“I’m not letting that happen,” he sneered. “The thought of you marrying that asshole makes me sick.”

You moved away from him, pushing his hands away when he reached for you.

“JJ, it’s over. I’m actually saying out loud this time,” you sadly told him. “Stop calling me, stop texting me, and… I won’t stop you from staying in the pool house, but I told you that my father-.”

“I’m not abandoning you. You can’t make me,” he cut you off, and you swallowed as he looked between your eyes. “This isn’t what you want, and I’m not gonna let you do this.”

“JJ, it’s done,” you firmly said to him. “Rafe and I are engaged. He asked my father’s permission, my mother is beside herself planning the whole wedding…and you and I are over.”

You looked between his eyes.

“That’s how things are supposed to be.”

The silence that stretched between you was thick and tense, and you swallowed at the way JJ ran his gaze over you. When he reached behind you to open your door, you sharply inhaled, moving closer to him to allow him to widen it. The blond leaned in then and pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds. You closed your eyes, and he breathed you in.

“I’ll talk to Sarah.”

♱

Friedrich Harding was a man who earned many compliments—he was a man of integrity, a man with wealth, and a man greatly respected in society. You personally had a few lesser known compliments for the dark-haired gentleman such as his caring demeanor and gentle touch and prowess in bed. It was something that only you had the pleasure of knowing. At least, that was what you were assured, and you chose to believe him for he was a man of integrity. 

Under the cover of darkness when you should have been asleep or even during earlier hours when he should have been using valuable time to find a suitable wife, Friedrich preferred to refresh his memory of what it felt like to touch you and taste you and find solace inside of you. The years-long friendship between Thomas and Friedrich made the former none the wiser to the true cause of the latter’s frequent visits over the past year. Your life was not the only one to be changed the moment you were taken in as a maid for the Hutter family.

Friedrich would spend every waking moment breathing you in and finding relaxation in your warmth if he had the choice, and you knew this because he told you so. He was, after all, an honest man. He told you how beautiful you were every time the thought crossed his mind and he told you about every time he thought of you while he was away and he told you how harder it was becoming to stay away from you. He was very honest…even when you wished that he would not be.

“You had to know that no other answer is possible…”

Those baby blues of his were heavy—with sadness or shame, you did not know, only that you yourself felt a bit of both. It was a silly thing to ask him one day—if he ever thought of marrying you—and truthfully you did not know what answer you were possibly expecting. Of course Herr Harding could not ever marry you. You were a maid, a servant—not much better than property in some places—and the gentleman that you had grown to care for needed a wife of good standing…a wife that many would envy him for. 

You were neither of those things.

Asking him such a thing only succeeded in making things tense for you two for a few moments and breaking your own heart, but that was quickly remedied when he told you not to think of such things before pressing his lips to yours. His manor only housed one, and so you were not so cautious in how you responded to him once he got his hands on you.

His lips did not stray from your face once as he slowly and gently curved his hips into yours, pushing his cock into you with a pace that he knew you loved. Nothing drove you crazier more, and you loved the sounds that escaped his lips whenever you grazed your fingers over his skin and pressed your nails into his naked back. The only time that you were not a maid and he was not a man out of reach was during these stolen moments, when he was inside of you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear and telling you that you were his.

Only…

You were not his.

He had made that clear to you. You were not his and he was not yours, and while it was never spoken of again, you moved forward with that in mind no matter how much it broke your heart day after day. You did not take words said in the heat of the moment to heart, and never did you ever think to.

“You did not come to me last night…”

The whispered words were said to you in a dimly lit hallway, Thomas’ family just in the sitting room and oblivious to your coupled absence. The dark-haired man had cornered you, his blue eyes hardly leaving your person from the moment he stepped into the house, so some part of you had expected it. With him so close—his warmth reaching out for you and the scent of him surrounding you—it was hard to remember why you had left his bedside cold the previous night. You took a deep breath before racking your brain for the truth.

“I did not think it was wise.”

Friedrich looked between your eyes for a moment before a light chuckle left him, his perfect teeth winking at you as he clearly found your response comical.

“When has it ever been…?”

He reached for you as he said this, but you were quick to grab his hand and halt his pursuit. The frown that knitted his brow was a rare sight—Friedrich hardly being the kind of man who was faced with a refusal from anyone—and you almost felt bad.

“Perhaps that is reason enough that I should have never warmed your bed to begin with,” you quietly told him, and you did not miss the way his face fell. “You must marry and have sons…and not only will that never be with me, but the longer this continues the longer you put it off.”

The man before you stared at you as if you were speaking another language, and when your words finally sank in, he straightened, staring at you in a way you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“It is not your place to worry about such things,” he said, making you bristle. “You let me worry about my affairs.”

You were not stupid. You could see that Friedrich was thinking and feeling way too many things than he was used to in this moment as the implications behind your words were finally starting to hit him, but it did not make his words sting any less.

“No, it is not my place to worry about your affairs,” you agreed. “...but it is my place to worry about mine.”

He was still as you slid from between him and the wall, his gaze stuck on you as you abandoned him in more ways than one. Refusing to sleep with Friedrich any more was no easy decision to make, even harder to execute. The man had introduced you to a world you wondered if you would ever be privy to, and he had made you feel things that made you shudder to think about even now, but you were tired of breaking your own heart day after day.

“I do not want any letters from you and do not seek me out. I no longer want that…”

Before your former lover could respond, you were rejoining the family who employed you. You ignored his gaze when he returned and throughout dinner and most especially as he was leaving. It was no easy feat because Friedrich had the kind of presence that was hard to ignore, and that was true in more ways than one.

Despite how many times you dreamt of the man in the weeks that followed, you told yourself that bittersweet memories were infinitely better than accepting the affections of someone who could never be yours. One day he would be married—guarantee—and maybe one day you would be too—not so much of a guarantee—and Friedrich was an honest man, yes, but it felt insulting to him to think that he might not possess the kind of strength required to never seek you out once he took a wife. You surely liked to think so, but the man himself had told you many times that he found it difficult to stay away from you.

…and he was no liar.

Despite your wishes, letters were still slipped beneath your door, waiting for you at the end of the day when he had long left and you were retiring for the night. Each one went unopened, too afraid of what you might do should you read what he had to say all the while imagining that smooth voice of his. In fact, none of your wishes were met, cornered by the blue-eyed man again and again.

“Friedrich…”

You nervously looked past his broad shoulders, your inability to hold his gaze bringing him great frustration.

“Forgive me for I believed that this was merely some tantrum, some lapse in thought brought on by fear or inadequacy or…”

He trailed off, seemingly unable to gather his thoughts as his eyes roamed your face.

“Friedrich, I have made my feelings clear to you,” you spoke before he could gather himself to do so again. “Leave me be.”

Your attempt to get away was stopped, and your wide eyes rested on his face. There was a deep frown on it, and the facial hair above his lip twitched as his fingers pressed into your arms.

“Have I not told you time and time again that you are mine? That I cannot be without you?”

“Words said while I was warming your bed,” you pointed out, the attitude in your tone clear. “Now it is you who will have to forgive me for not taking them seriously.”

You tried to slip away again.

“So, you thought I said them in jest? That they were not meant to be believed?”

He sounded incredulous, and you took that moment to finally break free.

“It is irrelevant,” you hissed. “Please, leave me be!”

Your voice slightly echoed, and you were quick to stride away from him lest someone come looking for you.

As it turns out, the only person who you ever had to worry about looking for you was your spurned lover. You did not know if his shameless behavior was scarier than if he had preferred to remain discreet. Gathering groceries for the Hutters was a shadowed task and every room you cleaned turned into a hiding place every time he came over.

Your dreams about the man who you had once thought you loved turned into nightmares.

…and those nightmares turned into reality.

“So, this is where you hide whenever you so much as hear my voice…”

His hands were on your face, and your lower back was pressed against a side table as he finally found you one day. Friedrich looked as distinguished as always, but his eyes…something about those eyes gave way to the disarray within him. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, and there was a pout on his own lips as he ran his eyes along your face.

“I have written to you,” he forced out.

“...and I have asked you not to.”

The man before you swallowed at that, and his fingers pressed harder into your skin.

“Have you read them?” he finally asked, and your resolute silence must have been answer enough because you did not miss the way his eyes dimmed and his face fell.

Friedrich was normally so composed and dignified, so to see him in such a way was not only fascinating…but also terrifying. A once predictable man had become anything but, and you did not know what to expect from him.

“Has your heart truly grown so cold towards me?” he murmured, a plea in his gaze, and you felt compelled to be truthful in your answer.

“No,” you whispered. “...but I know what I want, and you cannot give it to me, so why go on pretending otherwise?”

You wrestled yourself from his grip with difficulty, and when Friedrich reached out to you, you stepped away, his fingers grazing the fabric of your dress as you did so.

“If you ignore my wishes again…” you took a deep, shuddering breath. “...I fear that you might never find me should you seek me out.”

You did not miss his stricken gaze as you left him, and despite what you wanted, it still hurt to see. You loved working for the Hutters, and perhaps you shared some blame in getting involved with a man who was so closely intertwined with them, but Friedrich had become an overbearing presence that would force you to find employment elsewhere if need be. He did not respect any boundary you attempted to put in place, and that made you feel terrified in a place you once felt so safe in.

He consumed your every waking thought—and not in a way that was pleasing—and perhaps that was why you found yourself touching the pile of letters you swore you would never open. But open them you did, one by one, and each letter grew more worrying than the last. The first was mild in comparison, mostly filled with declarations of desire to be near you and the odd jest here and there about what he had wrongly assumed was some temporary break.

Each one after talked less and less about love and any other gentle feelings and more about the need to never be without you and the ramblings of a man whose thoughts were far from coherent. Words like ‘consume’ and ‘torture’ and ‘despair’ stood out the most, and as you read every one, you had not even realized that you had begun to tremble. The parchment in your hands was shaking, and the cold that gripped you had nothing to do with the weather outside.

So much of what he had written was not all that different from the things Friedrich would whisper in your ear in the dead of night when he was pinning you beneath him and gently biting your flesh and parting your legs to make room for him. So many things that he would say in passionate moments were not at all anything you ever thought to take to heart. After all, how could you possibly expect to believe that he would never want to be away from you when he told you in no uncertain terms that he would never marry you?

For days those letters haunted you, and you struggled with how best to proceed. You did not relish the thought of leaving, but Friedrich—while a well respected gentleman—was a man who often and almost always got what he wanted. You did not know if the hold he wanted to have over you was because he truly loved you or because he felt that being your first meant something more or because…you were simply denying him something he wanted.

All scenarios scared you, and while you were fretting over the unnerving words that never left your thoughts, a storm ravaged your coastal town.

A storm that stranded Herr Harding under the same roof where you laid your head.

Some part of you expected him to give into his temptations.

“I do not know if you think me fickle or you just do not take anything I say seriously…”

You quietly trailed off, shaking your head and moving away from him as the heavy rain pelted against your window. The bad weather kept the rest of the house unaware of the argument going on beneath their very roof.

“...but I told you-.”

“Where do you think you can go that I will not follow?”

His words stumped you, and a flash of lightning brightened the room for a moment before it was bathed in the warm glow from your candles once again. His bright eyes stood out in the low lighting, but you swore that the more you stared into them, the darker they grew. The silence between you was thick with tension, and you felt your throat tighten at the predicament you found yourself in.

“Friedrich,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Please…”

“You break my heart, and you are the one begging?”

When he moved closer, you stood your ground despite your fear.

“Your heart?” you gasped. “You tell me that you will never marry me, and you do not think that broke mine? That day after day of being with you while knowing that did not continue to do so?”

You watched as he pressed his lips together, jaw clenching at your words.

“Friedrich…you must marry…and you have no intention of making me your bride. Are you telling me that the respectable and honorable Herr Harding had it in mind to keep me on as some shameful mistress? Hardly more than some whore?”

Your tone was thick with incredulity, and the dark-haired man had no response, only looking away with a huff.

“Or did you simply never think that far?”

“That day is nowhere along the horizon-.”

“Of course, you did not think that far,” you sighed, interrupting. “You are a man. There is no such thing as ‘ruin’ for you. Of course, you do not care.”

“Never speak such things,” he spat, cornering you. “Of course, I care.”

“You care, and yet you have never concerned yourself with what will become of me after you have taken a wife. You care, but you ignore my every wish to be free of you, to move on from you…”

“...because I cannot-.”

He cut himself off, hands placed on your cheeks as he stared at you.

“...because I cannot bear the thought,” he eventually said, pushing the words out through his teeth. “The mere thought of you with another tempts me to do unspeakable things.”

Those words caused a shudder to crawl down your spine, not unfamiliar with them as you recalled reading those exact words on a piece of parchment. His thumbs brushed along your skin, and when he moved closer, your stomach twisted into knots.

“Do you even grasp the insanity that would send me into?”

“Does that seem fair to you? That you must move on one day while I remain here right where you would prefer me?”

“I will never be able to move on from you, what about that do you not understand?”

You looked away from him, and Friedrich touched the tip of his nose to your temple, breathing you in.

“You speak of things that simply make no sense, Friedrich. It seems that I am the one who has to be reasonable yet again…”

“...and how do you plan on doing that? By leaving?”

The silence was loud, and you stumbled out from between him and the wall the moment his hands trailed further down to your shoulder and arm. He softly called your name as you turned your back to him, twice, then a bit louder on the third time.

“I will not allow it,” he harshly whispered, a hand circling your wrist. “Surely, you know that.”

His other hand dug into your waist, pulling you against him.

“I saw the letters on your bed table,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I know you read them. I know that you know what you mean to me.”

“Let go of me,” you breathed.

“That will only happen if you manage to make me,” was his mocking response, and your heart skipped a beat at his words. “If I leave you tonight, I worry that I shall never hold you again.”

His soft lips swallowed whatever you were going to say, and as you went to push him away, he pinned your arm between you.

“I refuse to be without you,” he murmured into the kiss, one hand firm on the small of your back and preventing you from getting away.

Wind whipped rain and leaves against the window, and the thunder carefully hid your fearful yelp as his lips trailed down your jaw and to your neck. His facial hair brushed against your skin, and you shuddered from the familiarity of it. Every attempt to break free from him was thwarted, and you had half a mind to wake the entire house, but you feared the consequences for you should the discovery of such a scene get out.

The man before you would go on fine as if nothing happened.

You, on the other hand, would be lucky to find another decent place of employment…let alone a husband.

Friedrich was unlike anything you had ever experienced, acting so unlike himself as he forced you to go and move in whatever direction he wished. Your panic only began to set in when you found yourself on your bed, a place that had seen your coupling numerous times, but tonight would be different.

Nothing about tonight would be loving.

The sound of ripping fabric made your heart jump, and when Friedrich’s lips wrapped around one of your breasts, you could not hold in your gasp. His other hand slid between your thighs as it had a hundred times, and every push against his chest was useless. You were focused on too much at once—trying to get his lips off of you and his fingers out of you.

When he curved them into you and circled his tongue on your skin, you faltered.

What followed played out just as you expected it to.

The strong man—whose strength you had once admired—was not deterred at all by any hit or scratch or punch you gave him. He murmured many things against your skin as he released himself, pinning your writing frame between him and your bed. Some of it was loving words that you were not at all unfamiliar with, and some of it was reminiscent of the more unnerving things he had put into his writing to you. 

“I told you that I cannot resist you,” he whispered, slowly thrusting into you in the way he knew you liked.

It made your stomach churn, now.

“Every time I am inside of you, you bear witness to every confession I make…”

His fingers threaded through your own against your will, pinning your hand to the bed as he held it. His lips pressed opened mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, your tearful gaze on the ceiling as your lashes fluttered. Every time he sank into you, your stomach tightened.

He kissed you again, forcing you to move your mouth against his as he tasted the inside of yours. Your free hand unconsciously trailed along his arm, forgetting for a brief moment that this was not like all the other times you snuck away or was lowered onto his bed. Friedrich kisses you intensely, his hips moving against yours with the same intensity, and it made your toes curl.

“Tell me that you shall never leave me,” he gently demanded.

When you could not give him the answer he wanted, his gaze met your tearful one. If there was any guilt within him for his actions then it was not present in his eyes at all. Those blue eyes of his shone like you suspected yours did, the candlelight reflecting in his tearful gaze.

“Must I make it so that you never can…?”

The ominous nature of his words were not lost on you, and a million different scenarios filled your mind.

“You speak of ruin, now…but I imagine that whisperings of the true nature of our relationship would really ruin you…”

Your wide eyes did not look away from his, and you wondered if he was even capable of what he was saying. Friedrich would not—he was a good and honorable man—and even he did not look like he believed himself capable of what he was threatening. However, you remembered your current position and that a good and honorable man would never put you in such a place. His train of thought seemed to be on the same track as yours, and you watched as he mentally resolved himself to whatever he had to in order to keep you.

“Perhaps a delicate condition…”

You dug your nails into his skin, a few tears spilling over, and for the first time in months, you saw uncertainty in his gaze.

“Friedrich…you wouldn’t…”

He swallowed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your still lips.

“Then do not make me…”

Your lips trembled as he lifted his head and brushed his fingers over your mouth, a deep frown on his handsome face.

“I refuse to be without you,” he choked out. “You have already driven me to the lowest of moral character.”

You flinched as if he had slapped you, and he wiped a few tears away.

“Do not make me sink so low again, I beg you,” he breathed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

He remained there and circled his arms around you as he continued to gently sink his cock into you, and too afraid to say anything but what he wanted to hear, you hesitantly nodded.

“Okay,” you shakily whispered. “I shall never leave you.”

Rafe’s groans were loud above you—as they always were—and while his satisfaction made you feel good about yourself and your efforts, the tight grip he had on your hair reminded you of your shame. Truthfully, you didn’t think you had done anything shameful—you were only trying to do something nice for your boyfriend—but as Rafe had stared you down with that deep frown on his face and the slight curl of his upper lip…

You realized very quickly that you had done something very wrong.

Rafe slightly lifted his hips off of his bed, forcing the length of his cock further past your lips. All of the saliva on his length made the intrusion smooth and easy, but it also made you feel a tad gross, but you recalled what Topper had said.

“Blowjobs are…dirty work,” he’d said while rubbing the back of his head. “The messier it is, the better.”

He’d shrugged at you, and despite the way those words made you frown, you believed him. Not only was he a guy, but he was Rafe’s best friend, and so he had to know what he liked. That was what drove you to seek out Topper for help to begin with. That and the fact that Sarah had given you a firm no when you’d initially gone to her. Something about feeling weird giving you sex advice all the while knowing it was going to be used on her brother.

“It never hurts to…spit on it,” the younger blond had advised.

Sex was already wet and sweaty and involved swapping bodily fluids, but something about spit just never…settled with you. With that being said, you took his advice and did just that, pulling your lips off of Rafe’s cock for only a moment to spit on the tip. When Rafe cursed from above you, you knew that you did something right, but it seemed that it clicked for him on how you knew to do that, and he was shoving himself back into your mouth again.

“Did Topper teach you that? Huh?” he sneered from above you, lifting his hips over and over again to drive himself between your swollen lips.

It brought tears to your eyes, not because it hurt, but because it became clear early on that this was just as much a gift for Rafe as it was a punishment for you. The sound of your mouth swallowing him repeatedly was loud in the otherwise quiet room, only accompanied by the blond’s uneven breathing. Your nose almost touched Rafe’s stomach, and you made a noise deep in your throat.

Your boyfriend heard it.

“I should make you gag on it, you know that?” he breathed. “I should break that pretty little jaw.”

His hand guided your head over him, rhythmically bobbing your head over his lap, and when you stole a peek, your tearful gaze met Rafe’s even one. As your eyes met, you felt…torn. Rafe looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth. Those blue eyes the most expressive you’ve ever seen them, his pink lips parted, and his dirty blonde hair with a mind of its own. You really, really liked him seeing like this, but…

Those blue eyes weren’t just dripping with desire for his sweet girlfriend. Rafe was also angry—pissed—and although you struggled to grasp why at first, you were slowly beginning to understand. Rafe had a habit of losing his cool if some guy even so much as looked at you the wrong way, but even still, Topper was his best friend and you were his girlfriend. You were two people he trusted the most, and that was why you’d had no hesitation in being honest with him.

“...and what were you doing at Topper’s?” was what he’d asked you less than thirty minutes ago.

When he’d asked you about your day, it had sort of slipped out without you even realizing it, and your lips had parted at the realization you’d ruined the surprise. A frown had formed between your brows, and you’d struggled to come up with a lie, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“He was helping me with something.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it was too vague of an answer for Rafe’s liking, and your boyfriend had stepped closer, his face pinched as he looked between your eyes.

“What was Topper helping you with that I couldn’t help you with?”

Your lips had opened and closed, struggling with what to say to him.

“It’s a surprise,” you’d said to him in a small voice.

You’d given him a small smile, but Rafe hadn’t returned it, and that was the first inkling you felt that something was wrong. Rafe’s house was empty—his entire family out—and he’d moved closer to you, tilting his head.

“...and have you ever known me to like surprises?”

You’d thought about it for a few moments before eventually shaking your head, shoulders sagging a bit.

“No…but you will like this one,” you’d answered, perking up with a smile and gently tugging on his shirt.

Again, Rafe hadn’t returned it, and you’d started to think that he wouldn’t like your surprise, after all, but he was a guy, and Sarah said that all guys loved getting their dicks sucked. Besides, it was among the many things you’d come across on Rafe’s laptop one day, links and videos full of people—women—doing things that you’d never done with him, things he’d never even brought up with you.

While it wasn’t like you thought he’d leave you over whatever you didn’t do for him, it still left a bad taste in your mouth. Sure, Rafe told you all the time that he loved what he loved about you and that he’d kill for you—something that made you a tad uncomfortable actually—but there was something about knowing Rafe desired much more than you were actively giving to him.

Did he not think you’d want to? Or that maybe you weren’t capable?

“Well, where is this surprise that you had to go to my best friend for?” he wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Here?” you’d wondered, to which he nodded. “Now?”

Again, Rafe nodded, face stony, and you gave him a soft okay.

It was clear that he hadn’t been expecting you to kiss him, gently pressing your lips to his before parting them. As you coaxed his tongue out of his mouth, you reached for his folded arms, slowly pulling them apart before letting your hands drift to the waistband of his pants. At that, Rafe stopped you, and you pulled back slightly with a frown.

You were in the kitchen, but it wouldn’t be the first time you and Rafe did stuff in some place other than a bedroom, so you didn’t think that was why he stopped you. You found out that you were right.

When your eyes met Rafe’s, he was frowning at you with a different kind of frown now, and he slowly looked between your eyes as he studied your face. Excitement buzzed through your body as he just looked at you, but when his hands tightened on your wrists, your brow twitched, and you blinked.

“I don’t care about the surprise anymore—fuck the surprise, actually. What exactly did you and Topper do this afternoon?”

His tone and his voice had you shrinking in on yourself, and this was the moment that you realized Rafe was mad. Your lips parted as he stared down his nose at you, and when his hold grew tighter, you winced.

“I… I wanted to learn how to give you a good blowjob.”

It was the first time you were sure you’d ever seen Rafe just…freeze. The kitchen grew completely silent, and the air between you felt oddly off. Your boyfriend just stared at you for what felt like a long time, and for a moment, you started to wonder if he’d even heard you. Like you, he started to open and close his mouth a few times before eventually deciding on just snapping it shut. You watched Rafe’s jaw clench, and when he swiped his tongue between his lips, his chest was brushing yours.

“Topper…taught you…how to give a good blowjob.”

He said the words slowly, and you nodded in confirmation of the statement.

“I know that’s what you like, and-.”

“So, you gave Topper a blowjob?”

“No!”

The word came out so loud that it startled you, but Rafe’s question had startled you even more. Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, and as his own words hung in the air, you realized the cause for his sour mood. The thought actually made you chuckle, because Topper had been terrified of the same thing when you first went to him.

“We didn’t do anything that you and I would do,” you sweetly told him. “He just told me and showed me what to do.”

It was practically the same words you’d said to Topper when he also misunderstood you, but oddly enough, it hadn’t seemed to calm him down. He’d still been jittery and nervous, forcing you to basically beg him for his help. Even weirder, the clarification didn’t seem to calm Rafe down either, and you watched him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

His gaze briefly landed on the ceiling as he nodded.

“He just…told you and showed you what to do,” Rafe repeated, and you’d been dating him long enough to notice certain patterns with his tone.

You felt yourself shrinking a bit—deflating—and tears had kissed your eyes.

“I feel like you’re mad.”

Rafe had let out a laugh, but you struggled to find the humor in the situation. When your boyfriend looked at you again, he was stepping towards you, forcing you back. He was shaking his head at you—in that way that didn’t make you feel good—and you were suddenly reminded of the times when he wasn’t so nice to you and even made you cry.

“I know…I know that it takes you a little bit longer than everyone else to catch up sometimes,” he whispered, letting your hand go to gently take your chin between his fingers. “I know that.”

You struggled to piece together what he meant by that, and when you finally did, he was already insulting you again.

“...but you went to another man to help you learn how to go down, and you’re wondering if I’m mad?”

Rafe just stared at you, brows raised, and you slowly realized that he was expecting you to say something. With the knowledge that he initially thought you cheated on him, you were starting to see how Rafe might not see this from your eyes. Both Sarah and Rafe had repeatedly told you that everyone didn’t think like you did, but you hadn’t cheated on Rafe, so you were really struggling to understand his anger, right now.

You’d done it for him.

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you’d whispered.

At those words, you watched as Rafe’s eyes glazed over, and he stared you down with a look you couldn’t place. You watched the corner of his lips curve upwards ever so slightly, and when he let you go, the blood rushed through your arm again. Your boyfriend took a step back before raising his arm in a gesture towards the stairs.

“Well, let’s go…”

You’d straightened at the shift in his demeanor.

“Show me what he taught you, and make me happy.”

That was how you found yourself on your knees with Rafe’s cock in your mouth, and his hand on your head. He was rough, but you’d expected it because Rafe often was. However, you also accepted that there was an added layer to that because he was pissed off. You’d genuinely gone to Topper for help and to do something for your boyfriend in return for all he’d done for you.

Yes, Rafe could be mean sometimes, but he always told you he was sorry and made up for it by putting a gift in your hand. He wasn’t perfect, no, but neither were you. You knew how imperfect you were, how frustrating you could be—something your parents had never failed to be honest with you about—and so you didn’t expect from him what even you yourself didn’t live up to.

Besides, Rafe was always looking out for you—at parties, at the mall, and even in your own home when you had another near miss. He was always buying you any dress you wanted, and he was more sweet than he was mean. At least, you thought so. He often ran you baths and detangled your hair and helped you pick out what blush or lipgloss to put on. He enjoyed dressing you up, and you enjoyed letting him.

Your life just seemed to flow so much easier and smoother since you started dating Rafe.

…and you’d always known you weren’t the brightest person in the room, so whenever Rafe expressed his frustration with that, you tried not to let it get to you. This time was different though. This time you’d gone out of your way to try and do something nice for him, to try and be a better girlfriend to make him happy…and he wasn’t happy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafe snapped when you pulled away, letting him fall out of your mouth.

He sat up and looked down at you as you knelt on the floor, arms crossed over your chest. With one look into your eyes, your boyfriend huffed, and you bit your lip in an attempt to keep it from trembling.

“You’re being mean,” you tearfully told him.

“No shit,” he bit out, reaching for you, but you reared back.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you!”

“By going to my best friend and asking him to teach you how to suck my dick, are you crazy?”

“How else was I supposed to surprise you, Rafe? Was I supposed to take notes from all of those videos on your computer?”

A silence descended over you, and you avoided his gaze. You could feel him staring at you, and you continued to look at the wall behind him.

“Is that what this is about?” he eventually sighed.

“You like it, otherwise you wouldn’t watch it. Any of it…”

A blowjob seemed the easiest barrier to cross, but you had worried yourself a bit on how you’d ever hype yourself up into doing any of that other stuff. You’d told yourself one step at a time, but who knew that what you thought would be the easiest would cause all of this. You angrily wiped away a stray tear.

“Come here…come here,” Rafe repeated himself when you didn’t budge, reaching for you and pulling you between his knees again.

He took your face into his hands and forced you to look at him. Rafe didn’t look as angry, now, eyes softer, and he brushed his thumb along your mouth.

“If I wanted to do everything I watched then we’d be in trouble.”

He chuckled to himself, but you didn’t laugh.

“Then why watch it?” you whispered, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“It’s like putting on a football game.”

“Rafe, I saw some woman getting fucked by three men at once. No way you’re comparing that to football…”

“I’m just saying…” he started, leaning in and kissing you. “It’s not a big deal and especially not enough to where you need to go running to Topper for help on our sex life.”

His hand found it’s way to your throat.

“You want to know how to make me happy then you come to me,” he lowly said against your lips. “That’ll make me happier than any surprise, you understand?”

You nodded at that, and his hand moved to your hair again as he leaned back.

“Now spit on it, baby, just like you did before.”

You did, and soon after, Rafe was in your mouth again.

His hips wouldn’t stay still as you sucked in your cheeks around him, a sound leaving your boyfriend that you were sure you’d never even heard before. The groans that left him were animalistic, and you were shocked by how much it turned you on. You didn’t think that focusing on pleasuring Rafe would be so exciting, but it filled you with something that made you feel proud.

“Use your hand,” you heard him breathe.

You recalled Topper mentioning that, and you brought your hand up to wrap around what your lips couldn’t. Rafe lifted his hips again, one hand on your hair and the other on your wrist. When he softly told you to bring up your other hand, you didn’t quite understand why until he took it and placed it under his shaft. You played with him there, and Rafe’s satisfied moan reached your ears.

You bobbed your head over him for a while, taking in the taste of him and every sound he made. He sucked air through his teeth when you flattened your tongue against his cock, dragging it along him as you continued to suck him. All the while, you progressively grew wetter and wetter, enough to almost make you feel embarrassed. When Rafe started to sit up—albeit with difficulty—confusion filled you. It only grew when he pulled you off of him, completely standing now.

He looked down at you and you looked up at him as he rested his hands on the sides of your head.

“Open your mouth for me,” he purred. “Keep it open just like that.”

On instinct, you reached out to grip the back of his thighs as he began to thrust himself into your mouth. Something about it turned you on even more, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look in his eyes? You could certainly see them better from this angle, and the blue of them looked so much darker to you as Rafe watched his cock disappear into your mouth.

Maybe it was the way you could see his chest heaving, quickly rising and falling as he struggled to breathe from how you were making him feel. His button down was open, and your eyes took in the slight glisten on his chest from the sweat. Your eyes traced his skin in the low light and then eventually his hair and how it hung along his forehead, kissing the skin there.

Or maybe…just maybe…you liked the feeling of Rafe using you.

You were completely still as he fucked your mouth, keeping your lips parted and your tongue flat for him. You liked being on your knees and letting Rafe use you as a means to an end, letting him use you to chase his high that would no doubt end in him spilling himself down your throat. You could tell that Rafe liked it too, your boyfriend not taking his eyes off of you once.

The choked gasps and groans from his mouth got louder and louder, and even if he wasn’t holding your head in place, you were sure you would’ve still remained there to let him come in your mouth, ropes of warmth hitting the back of your throat and tongue as he continued to fuck your mouth through his orgasm.

Rafe stroked your cheeks as he came, his breathing slowly becoming even again, and when he moved your head, you slid your lips along his cock one last time, tongue sliding against his length and swallowing anything left behind.

“Good girl,” you heard him murmur from above you.

When Rafe bent down to kiss you, you lifted yourself a bit to help him, smiling against his lips. His hand twisted into the hair at the nape of your neck, and you moaned into the kiss.

“You were just trying to be a good girlfriend, huh,” he whispered into your mouth.

You frantically nodded at that, happy that he wasn’t mad at you anymore.