Rae Writes Fiction

you’re not even trying to impress him. that’s what pisses him off first. you don’t fawn, don’t giggle, don’t ask to touch the suit. you just look him up and down like he’s another loud man taking up space in your kitchen and go, “rules are on the fridge, ben.”

and he’s instantly ruined.

because at first he’s arrogant about it. he thinks you’re playing hard to get. thinks you’re doing the good wife act for the cameras, all polite smiles and clipped answers while your husband is off living in ben’s house with his actual wife. but then the cameras shut off for the night, and you’re still like that. calm. unimpressed. standing barefoot in the kitchen in your little sleep shorts, pouring yourself water while he leans against the counter and stares at your legs like he’s forgotten every commandment he’s ever ignored.

he starts breaking rules just to see what you’ll do.

walks around shirtless. takes up the whole couch. calls you sweetheart in that low, gravelly voice. stands too close when you’re cooking, big hands braced on either side of the counter behind you, his chest almost touching your back while he murmurs, “your husband let you boss him around like this too?”

and you don’t even turn around. you just say, “only when he’s smart.”

ben laughs, but it’s not funny to him anymore. not really. because he’s hard in his sweats and you’re pretending you don’t notice, and he knows you do. he knows by the way your hand hesitates on the knife. by the way your thighs press together when he leans in close enough for his beard to brush your ear.

by day five, he’s fucking unbearable.

he watches you fold laundry like it’s porn. watches you bend over the dryer and mutters something filthy under his breath. catches himself staring at your panties in the basket for too long. he starts finding excuses to touch you. hand on your lower back when he moves past you. fingers brushing your hip when he reaches into the cupboard. thumb dragging over your wrist when he hands you your coffee.

and then one night, after a fake dinner for the cameras where he plays your temporary husband a little too well, he follows you upstairs.

you tell him, “ben, the cameras are off.”

he says, “good.”

then he kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

not sweet. not gentle. not polite reality-tv fake-marriage shit. he backs you into the bedroom door and kisses you with one hand around your jaw and the other gripping your waist so hard you gasp into his mouth. he likes that. he likes hearing you lose that calm little voice. likes feeling you grab his shirt like you’re angry at yourself for wanting him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dads!bestfriend!russell x reader , fauxcest if you squint , secret relations , blow job , 18+

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 315

#𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this is so bad bc it’s late but enjoy ¿¿ getting me to write lately is like pulling teeth :(

dads!bestfriend!russell always made you promise it was the last time , but he never stopped looking for a reason to break that promise.

standing in the kitchen , nursing a beer while your father rambled on about a project in the garage. but underneath the tight fabric of his greyed jeans , he was reeling. mind trapped in the claustrophobic , humid air of the laundry room from twenty minutes ago. a sensitive ache , a phantom weight of your mouth refusing to leave him.

it had been dirty of you both. the moment his strained cock escaped his boxers , one soft ‘slap’ and his drooling tip escaped its confines. thick , watery precome ran in rivulets down the dense hair on his abdomen.

what really made him keep coming back to you , was when you paid extra attention to his sensitive tip. those small firm licks to the head of his purpled shaft. letting out a soft giggle when his breathing stopped and his cock started to twitch.

russell would try and press your head back, his knuckles white , a hiss the only warning he had left. “quit fucking doing— that sweetheart. ‘m gonna come too quick.” and you’d take every desperate, greedy bit of him in your mouth , your goal was to make him come harder than the last.

"you still with us?" your dad laughed , clapping a hand on russell’s shoulder.

"yeah ‘course i am," he cleared his throat, a register that felt like a secret confession. "just need a drink." and he’d let his gaze flicker toward you , where you stood by the sink , your lips still slightly wet and puffy.

as he swallowed , the faint taste of salt on his tongue. a reminder of taking his thumb , gliding against your lower lip to catch the lingering trace of his own release , and bringing it back to taste himself.

"this gotta be the last time, kid," he had whispered, lowly.

Sorry but I got sick of scrolling through the notes on this on desktop and seeing all the red usernames marked by shinigami eyes reblogging this.

your cunt feels so good practically swallowing his cock that he just cant hold himself back! he pins all his weight onto you and slams into your pussy until the rooms filled with squelches and whimpers!! slick dribbles from your hole spraying onto his balls while ben groans into your ear calling you a “messy lil’ slut” and “dirty girl, ya like me pummelling you into the bed?” when your eyes roll back!!

as soon as bens close his pace becomes erratic chasing his own high- his eyes squeeze shut and his chest starts to glow showing the living bomb thats killed hundreds!! you should be scared but bens fucking you soooo good so instead your digging your heels into his ass to get him deeper inside you..

as soon as he stutters inside you, his thick hot cum painting your insides- the buildup fades away leaving ben panting into your neck and your legs shaking around his waist from fear and pleasure.

“almost got ya that time, didn’t i?” he’d say nonchalantly while pulling out and rolling over to light a joint- tucking you into his side and slipping the blunt between your lips to calm your nerves.

this is a GREAT deep dive interview with the oc register thank you so much for trotting with me