₊ ⊹ His Angel ⊹₊

The Bonfire

The moment Rafe Cameron’s voice ripped through the music and laughter, the energy around the fire shifted.

“I thought I told you to behave,” he snarled, his voice cutting through the crowd like a blade.

John B tightened his arm around Y/N instinctively, pulling her closer as JJ and Pope stepped in front of them, forming a living wall. But even with her tucked safely between her friends, Rafe’s eyes stayed locked on her like a predator watching his prey.

He’d been watching her all night.

The moment she arrived with John B, too close, too comfortable, too much like his. Rafe’s jaw clenched every time her hand brushed the pogue’s, every time John B leaned close to whisper something in her ear. He knew what was happening—he could see it plain as day.

It wasn’t just about affection anymore. It was about possession.

Rafe Cameron didn’t share. And especially not when it came to her.

Two weeks. That’s what her mother promised him. Two weeks and she’d be back in the Figure Eight, back where she belonged. Back with him. But Rafe had never been patient. And now that he saw her slipping through his fingers?

He was done waiting.

“You say your goodbyes yet, sweetheart?” Rafe sneered, eyes zeroing in on her hand, still gripping John B’s. JJ moved in. “Back the fuck off, man.” But Rafe didn’t even blink.

Behind him, Topper and Kelce flanked his sides like dogs on chains, barely restrained.

Kie looked at Y/N, confused, eyebrows raised. John B turned toward her too, silently asking, what the hell is he talking about?

But Rafe wasn’t speaking to them.

He tilted his head, his gaze slicing straight through the group. “You didn’t tell them, huh?” he said with a sick kind of amusement, licking his lips slowly like he was savoring a secret.

John B stiffened. Kiara moved closer to Y/N. Pope and JJ closed ranks.

Rafe didn’t stop.

“You never listen,” he continued, his voice lowering to something dark and cold. “A few hours. That’s all it took for you to go behind my back. And you thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Y/N froze.

Now everyone was looking at her.

“What is he talking about, Y/N?” Kiara’s voice cracked with confusion.

Rafe surged forward, but JJ and Pope shoved him back again, this time harder.

Y/N’s eyes darted to the other side of the bonfire—Lily and Sarah were approaching, both of them catching on to the tension far too late.

“Go back to your side of the fire, Cameron,” Pope snapped, trying to maintain control.

But Rafe didn’t even look at him anymore. His eyes were on her. Only her.

“You don’t get to hide from me,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Y/N swallowed hard and finally spoke, barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m moving back in with my mom.”

The silence hit like a hammer.

Lily’s face contorted in shock. “What?”

“You’re a Kook again?” Topper asked, half-laughing.

“Yes,” Rafe answered for her, his grin wide and manic. “Yes, she is.”

“Not yet, asshole,” Y/N shot back, stepping out from behind John B, her hands shaking.

But Rafe’s gaze was already turning.

“Did you touch my girl?” he asked John B, voice sharp and loud.

John B stepped up, chest puffed out, face taut with fury. “What do you mean, your girl?”

“In two weeks,” Rafe said, eyes gleaming, “she’s mine. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

Gasps. Then silence.

Even Lily looked like the air had been knocked out of her. Tears pooled in her eyes.

“You talk about her like she’s your property,” John B spat, disgust in every syllable.

Rafe only smiled wider. “That’s because she is. Or she will be. Soon.”

“Is that what this is about? You just want to fuck her?” John B asked.

Rafe looked to Y/N and cocked his head, voice low and deadly. “If that’s all I wanted, I would've been done with her a long time ago.”

John B’s eyes narrowed. “He’s the blonde,” he said, realization dawning.

And now everyone turned back to Y/N.

Even Sarah.

Even Lily.

Their faces said everything.

Rafe stepped closer. “So you told him about me?” he asked, tone almost playful. “Told him I was your first?”

Y/N couldn’t breathe.

John B tried to hold it together. “Stay away from my friends,” he warned.

But Rafe’s expression darkened. “You still don’t get it, do you? She’s not one of you anymore. She’s mine. So answer the question—did you touch her?”

They were nose to nose now. Chest to chest. Every part of the crowd holding its breath like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

John B didn't flinch. “What if I did?”

And that was all it took.

“Bet!” JJ’s voice tore through the tension before his fist did, landing square across Rafe’s jaw.

Pope swung for Kelce. Topper lunged toward Kiara, who kicked him in the chest and jumped on his back.

The bonfire exploded into chaos.

Pogues versus Kooks. A full-blown war.

Rafe and Kelce teamed up on John B, their fists raining down like a storm. Y/N screamed as she watched John B crumble under them.

Then she saw Sarah and Lily—pushed out of the way as the fight grew. Pope pulled them behind a stack of coolers for cover.

Y/N ran toward them—until she heard her name.

“Y/N!” Kelce’s voice rang out, smug and loud.

She turned—and saw Rafe, blood on his knuckles, locking eyes with her as he pointed.

She ran.

She didn’t think. She just ran.

Rafe followed—rage in his eyes, obsession in his blood, and her name on his tongue like a curse and a promise all at once.

She was running again. But this time, he swore she wouldn’t get far.

Not tonight. Not when she was so close.

Not when she was his.

The Forest

Rafe’s voice echoed through the trees, low and dangerous. "Where are you going, Angel?"

Of course, he wasn’t giving up that easily. Rafe was following her through the forest, not letting her slip away this time.

Y/N quickened her pace, her breath sharp and panicked as she tried to navigate through the dense underbrush. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—she just needed to get away from him. "Leave me alone, Rafe," she hissed, eyes ahead as she pushed through the darkness.

He didn’t respond immediately, but she could hear the anger curling in his tone when he spoke next. "Don’t you run away from me." His voice was like a warning. The next moment, she heard him again, his footsteps closing in on her. "Don’t you dare run away from me again."

She spun around in the forest, barely a moment’s hesitation before his eyes locked onto hers—dark, like the storm brewing in his chest. The intensity was enough to make her heart drop. "Not now, Rafe," she murmured, but her words had no weight. She knew it wouldn’t stop him.

He ignored the protest, his anger feeding the fire inside of him. "I thought you said you’d stop running away," he growled, his voice vibrating through the air.

"I’m not in the mood right now," she snapped, but even as she said the words, she felt the hairs on her neck rise. The tension in the air was suffocating, and she didn’t know how long she could keep pretending that she didn’t feel the pull, the dark connection between them.

Rafe was too close, and suddenly, without warning, he backed her up against a tree, his hand resting on the trunk beside her head. He was crowding her space, and she had nowhere to go.

"Rafe," she sighed, too tired to fight anymore. "I just don't want to do this right now."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he inhaled deeply, his voice low and mocking. "You need to stop ignoring your problems, Y/N." His nose brushed her cheek, and he lingered a little too long, savoring her scent like a man starved.

She flinched at the feeling of blood on her skin. "You’re bleeding," she muttered, unable to ignore the smeared blood on his face, some of it now staining her cheek. She wanted to look away, but his gaze held her captive.

"And whose fault is that?" Rafe’s smirk spread across his face like a predatory grin, his chuckle low and unsettling.

She tried to avert her gaze, eyes flicking down to her feet, but he wasn’t having it. "Are you going to clean me up, Angel?" he asked, leaning closer again, pressing his body into hers.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pulling away. "Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?" His bright eyes were pleading now, but the intensity only made her want to escape more.

She shoved him off with a scoff. "Did you really have to do that?" she demanded angrily, wiping his blood off her cheek.

His smirk didn’t fade as he took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "What, sweetheart? You need to show everyone that you’re mine." His voice was teasing, yet there was a deadly seriousness underneath.

She shook her head, trying to reject him with her body, her eyes cast down in defiance. "What happened to you giving me two weeks?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "You know I’ve never been patient, sweetheart." His response was casual, but the way he said it made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"You barely lasted a day, Rafe," she said weakly, exhausted from the weight of the situation.

"Neither did you," he shot back, his voice turning bitter. "You went and fucked that piece of trash."

Her breath hitched at his words, disgust rising in her chest. "Hey," she snapped, but he just shrugged nonchalantly.

"He’s an orphan, Y/N," Rafe said, the disappointment in his tone like a cold slap. "He doesn’t belong with you. He never did."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don’t be like that," she muttered, looking up at him.

"Come on," Rafe pressed, his voice smoother now, with a dangerous edge. "If I’m the Kook King, he’s the pogue equivalent." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with something dark.

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning back against the tree, hoping that by shutting him out, he would go away.

But Rafe wasn’t done.

"You’re mine, Y/N," he whispered, leaning in, bringing his face close to hers. "*And you let him touch you—touch what is mine." He dropped to his knees, bringing his eyes level with hers, invading her personal space like it was his right.

Her heart raced, panic seeping in. "I’m not yours," she spat, trying to pull away, but his grip on her chin was firm. He wouldn’t let her escape.

"You’ve always been mine, Angel," Rafe said, his voice dark, almost possessive. "You’ve been mine for a while, actually."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to pull away from his grip, but he held her tighter.

Rafe smirked and pulled out the friendship bracelet she’d made years ago—the one with their names engraved. Y/N’s heart dropped as the memories rushed back: when she was still part of the Kook world, when everything had seemed so simple.

"You remember this?" Rafe asked, his tone taunting. "Sarah wanted to throw it away when she saw you with him."

"That wasn’t yours to take, Rafe," she muttered, looking away. She hated that bracelet, hated what it represented.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. "You left us behind, Y/N."

Her chest tightened. "I’m sorry," she said quietly, and the words tasted bitter in her mouth.

Rafe didn’t seem to care. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring. Her stomach churned when she saw it—one she had made for him, back when they were just kids.

They’d staged a fake wedding under the bleachers when they were eleven. It had been nothing more than a joke, a game, but Rafe had never let go of it.

He slid the gold ring onto her finger, his grin wide as he admired it. "You’ve always been mine, Angel. And now, I’m finally getting what I’ve worked for."

He leaned in close, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I made the deal with your mom. I convinced her to send you to Kildare." His voice was low, almost possessive. "And now you’re mine again."

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "You did this," she gasped, eyes wide with shock.

"Guilty," Rafe smirked, his face so close to hers now, his forehead against her shoulder. "You made the wrong choice all those years ago, Y/N."

"You know why I made that decision," she said, her voice shaking with frustration. She didn’t want to keep arguing with him, but there was no escaping the reality of what had happened.

Rafe gently wiped the blood from his face and pulled her closer, his forehead resting against her shoulder. "You should have chosen me," he whispered, his voice breaking, desperate.

"Rafe," she whispered back, but he hushed her.

"I needed my guardian angel," he said softly, his voice raw. "I needed you then, and I need you now."

He pulled back and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the remnants of his blood. She couldn’t even find the words to protest before his lips were on hers.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a demand. A claiming.

And as much as she wanted to push him away, part of her knew: she was already lost.

Next Chapter (Coming soon)

Y/N stood by her mother’s office window, her gaze fixed on her sister, Lily, lounging in the sun.

She was completely unaware of Y/N’s presence, nor was she aware of their mother’s constant, looming pressure on Y/N’s life.

The jealousy bubbled up inside Y/N—Lily could do whatever she wanted, carefree, while Y/N felt trapped in the suffocating expectations of her so-called future.

Her mother’s voice cut through the silence. “You need to start taking your future seriously, Y/N.”

Y/N sighed deeply, still staring out the window. “Mom, we’ve talked about this.”

Her mother, sitting behind her desk, didn’t look up. “Of course we have, but you’re not going to be a writer like your father.” Her tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “His little library might be successful, but you, my darling, are too smart to be stuck in the cut.”

Y/N muttered, just loud enough for her mother to hear, “And whose fault is that?” The sharp look her mother gave her in response made her sigh again, but this time with a little more bite. “Is that why you’re sending me to Kildare, Mom?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Her mother sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to stretch between them like a barrier. “I just want you to have a good life, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes rolled instinctively. “I’m fine where I am. I don’t need to go to some preppy school to get a ‘better life,’” she groaned, her voice thick with frustration.

Her mother’s expression hardened. “You need to if you want to go to Duke,” she stated matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, exasperated. “Like you? No, thank you.”

Her mother’s voice was tinged with annoyance. “Need I remind you that your father went there, too?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps...” Her mother trailed off, as if searching for something in Y/N’s face that she couldn’t find.

“I was fourteen!” Y/N snapped, her voice rising. “I barely knew anything at that age.”

Her mother clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “So now you know everything?”

Y/N’s frustration was palpable. “I know I was sheltered. If I hadn’t moved to the cut, I wouldn’t...” She stopped herself, the words hanging in the air as her mother’s sharp interruption pierced through.

“If you hadn’t moved to the cut, you what?” Her mother’s shoulders slumped slightly, as if Y/N’s defiance had worn her down just a little.

Y/N exhaled heavily, rubbing her face with one hand. “I just don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle,” she muttered, her voice tight with frustration.

Her mother nearly groaned in exasperation. “You’re not a Pogue. You may live in the cut, but you were raised with money.” She rose from her seat and approached, the tension palpable between them.

Without a word, she placed a set of car keys in front of Y/N. Y/N’s eyes widened as she recognized them—the keys to her mother’s Jeep. Her heart sank. This felt like a bribe, another way for her mother to control her life.

Her mother’s smile was almost predatory. “So you can stop relying on your so-called friends.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, eyes flicking between the keys and her mother’s expectant expression. “Mom, I can’t. That’s—”

Her mother interrupted, her voice resolute. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said, sitting back down, her gaze never leaving Y/N. “You go to Kildare Academy, and I’ll give you this car.”

Y/N sat still, her mind racing. She knew what her mother was doing, and it sickened her.

“You’re a Kook, sweetheart,” her mother continued, walking over to Y/N and brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You have to start acting like it.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as her mother gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I have the money, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper now. “So let me do my job and take care of you.”

Her mother’s thumb traced lightly over her face, a silent reminder of the chokehold she still held over Y/N’s life. The subtle gesture left Y/N feeling small, trapped in a cycle she couldn’t seem to break.

The weight of her mother’s words hung in the air, suffocating. Finally, after a long pause, her mother dismissed her with a simple wave of her hand.

Y/N stood up, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that lingered in the room. The last thing she wanted to do was accept her mother’s offer, but she had no choice—at least not if she wanted the freedom the car promised.

With her heart racing, she did something she hadn’t done in almost two years. She pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she typed a message to an old friend. 🌊.

A little while later, the distant crunch of footsteps on gravel reached Y/N’s ears. She didn’t have to look up to know it was Rafe. The faint glow of the overhead lamp illuminated his face as he stepped into view, hands in his pockets, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you mean to text me?” he asked, his voice low, amused. “It’s been a while.”

Y/N looked up from her spot on the bench, her brows raising slightly. “Yeah... I just needed to vent.”

Rafe let out a soft huff and sat beside her without another word. They both stared out at the waves crashing against the shoreline, the silence between them not uncomfortable but weighted—thick with unspoken history.

“After everything,” he murmured, “I still come here.”

Y/N nodded, eyes on the water. “Same.”

He turned his head slightly toward her, brows raised. “Really? ‘Cause I haven’t seen you around.”

She rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Forgive me, the forty-minute drive felt a little dramatic just for some existential screaming into the ocean.”

He let out a laugh, the sound light, familiar. Rafe glanced around the beach instinctively, checking that they were alone. Satisfied, he pulled out a cigarette pack from his jacket.

“Why now?” he asked, lighting one. The flame lit up his face for a second—gold against the night.

Y/N accepted it without hesitation when he handed it over, slipping it between her lips like second nature. Rafe watched her closely, brows ticking up slightly in surprise as she took a slow, practiced drag and exhaled like she’d been doing it her whole life.

“You smoke now,” he said, clearly impressed. “What happened to little Y/N who used to cough her lungs out after one puff?”

She cracked a half-smile, handing the cigarette back. “She grew up.”

Rafe took it from her, but his eyes lingered on her face, lit faintly by the moonlight. His stare was steady—too steady. There was a softness in it, something bordering on awe. And for a moment, he forgot the smoke curling in his lungs and the weight of his father on his back.

“You’re different,” he said finally.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some hair from her face, oblivious to the way he was looking at her like she hung the stars she was always gazing at. “It’s my mom,” she said.

Rafe exhaled, his gaze finally breaking away. “It’s always your mom,” he muttered, though not unkindly. “But I mean... why meet me here? After all this time?”

She sighed, eyes on the sky now, cigarette between her fingers. “Because I needed to get away. And you’d understand.”

He stared at her like she was a constellation—something he couldn’t name, couldn’t touch, but couldn’t look away from either.

“Was it really that bad? That you’d drive all this way to hang out with me?” he asked, teasing to hide how much the question meant to him.

Y/N side-eyed him. “I didn’t drive here just for you, Rafe. Don’t get all sentimental.”

“Wait.” He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with a grin. “When did you get a car?”

She pulled the keys out and dangled them in front of him with a smug little smirk. “This morning. Courtesy of the Kook Queen herself.”

He laughed, shoving her playfully. “Do you even have your license?”

“Yes, dickwad. I drive.”

And just like that, the tension between them eased. The laughter came easy—like it used to. Like they were fifteen again, smoking badly-rolled cigarettes behind the dunes and talking about futures they didn’t understand.

“So, what did she say this time?” Rafe asked, more serious now.

They launched into the usual complaints—his father favoring Sarah, her mother trying to shape her into someone she didn’t want to be.

The minutes passed unnoticed. Cigarettes burned down to ash between their fingers. The sky began to lighten, the stars fading slowly with the dawn.

They sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, until the buzz was gone and fatigue crept into their bones.

Rafe stifled a yawn, not wanting to break the moment. He looked over at her—hair messy, eyes heavy, cigarette tucked between her fingers—and he swore, in that moment, she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Tired looks good on you,” he said quietly, lips curling into a grin.

Y/N gave him a deadpan stare and shoved his shoulder, but the corners of her mouth twitched up anyway. “I guess I should go,” she said, stretching as she stood.

He followed her lead, blinking away the sleep. “Still going to Kie’s?”

“Nah. Gonna head home.”

He frowned just slightly but nodded. “Get coffee on the way, at least.”

“I will.” She smiled at him, finally meeting his gaze.

He hesitated for a beat before blurting, “Can we do this again? Like… keep doing this?”

She paused, surprised by the sudden sincerity. Then nodded slowly. “Yeah. We can.”

As she turned to go, Rafe called after her, “Text me when you get home, okay?”

Y/N threw him a teasing salute before walking toward her car, the keys swinging in her hand, a small smile lingering on her lips.

Rafe watched her go, his heart uncomfortably full.

Three years had passed. She could’ve reached out to anyone—but she texted him. Sat on this same bench with him. Smoked with him like they used to. And she still hadn’t realized it—not the way he watched her, not the way she’d completely ruined every other girl for him.

But Rafe Cameron could wait.

Tonight was the best night he’d had in a long time.

And God, he already couldn’t wait for the next one.

*Later that day

Your current shift was killing you, and now regretting staying out late last night.

You have to admit it was nice hanging out with Rafe again, just like it once was.

Currently, on your fifth coffee of the day, you're still struggling to keep up with everything today; having to send back a couple orders having mixed them up.

“I would like the fried shrimp and a side of chips” an elderly woman orders, you begin to write it down when a group of laughter bellows through disturbing her.

You look to your right and notice Kelce, Topper and Rafe.

Looking over your shoulder to Kie whose expression is similar to yours, with a wrinkled nose and eyes narrowing in annoyance.

The trio seemingly make their own way to a booth hidden in the corner, their usual place. 

Sadly Sofia whose section they’re sitting in is away today.

You and Kie slowly walk to each other.

Secretly playing paper scissors, rock to decide who’s going to serve them.

Your best friend smiles when she wins, you always choose rock as she easily beats you covering your closed fist as you both cross paths.

You groan, tilting your head backwards annoyed. 

Kie turns you around and guides you to the table on her way to clear another.

“Good Afternoon, boys” the trio nod to you, handing them their booklets “Here are your menus, I’ll be your server today. The special of the day is-” you begin your introduction but Kelce interrupts.

“We already know what we’re having y/n” you purse your lip at that.

Rafe looks up at you, and he notices the bags under your eyes. And your sluggish appearance makes him feel guilty. He didn’t realize that you were working today. He shouldn’t have let last night go for as long as it did. 

Rafe nudges his best friend, “Dude, don’t be rude.” he looks up to you afterwards.

Kie overhears this, tilting her head at the table. 

This is a new behaviour coming from the kook.

The death squad is known for terrorizing the waitresses every time they come.

You've only seen Sophia serve the trio a handful of times, only picking up shifts this summer, wanting some independence from your mother.

and each time Sophia serves the boys, she bursts out crying.

Kie, though, is a lot tougher than the poor girl having grown up with it; she's the one who calls them out on their behaviour. 

“Sorry about that y/n” Rafe apologizes, he gives you a small smile which you return.

“So what would you like?” you ask, looking towards Topper as he begins to order.

Rafe's eyes never leave you as you head to the kitchen. He watches as Kie goes up to you, whispering something in your ear.

Whatever she said made you laugh, and that made him smile.

His heart beating fast, he begins to reminisce on last night, the two of you alone just like in the old days. He’s desperate for that to happen again.

Rafe blocks out his two friends, the two in their own conversation as he carries on watching you go around, handing people their food and picking up more orders to the kitchen.

Topper waves a hand in Rafes face, getting his attention back to him.

“Where were you last night?” Topper begins to ask, and Kelce tilts his head wanting to ask the same question.

“Out why?” Rafe moves his jaw to this, looking out for you again.

“I went over yours last night and you weren’t there?” Topper continues, and Rafes is too distracted watching you to answer back.

Kelce notices where his friend is looking and scoffs, “You still not over y/n huh?”. "What about your crush on Lily, huh?" he nudges Kelce, taunting him back. "Are you still interested in her?" Topper snickers at Rafe and Kelce, as Rafe swallows hard as he watches you head towards them, drinks in hand.

Kelce watches this with a smirk. “Thanks, princess, you look hot by the way” you side-eye him in response .

Rafe grimaces at his best friend wanting to smack him. He waits for you to leave before speaking up,  "Hey man, did you have to say that to her?"

Kelce responds with a shrug: "What? I was just giving my opinion. She's hot."

Rafe tilts his head at his best friend, “That's not the point. it's not cool to talk to he like that."

Kelce crosses his arms, "Come on, dude. I didn't mean anything by it."

Rafe practically growls, "don’t do it again, k”

Kelce lifts his hands surrendering to the blonde "Alright, I hear you."

The trio watch as you approach their table again with food in hand.

“Here you are, one steak meals with a side of fries” one shrimp and one stacker burger” you distribute their orders with a smile.

Rafe’s eyes light up as you hand him his food, your hands touching for a slight second. Topper speaks up, “Hey y/n” you turn back to them.

He begins to pick up his shrimp, and your heart pounds as you nervously watch him hoping not to have mixed up another order. He takes a bite of his food before speaking up.

“I’m having a party tonight, a last hurrah before school starts,” he says between chews, “Kooks only, you can come if you want?” he now smiles at you mouth full.

You release a sigh of relief, the tension in your face going away.

The boys watch you, Rafe’s stare is more intense. “I’ll think about it?” you respond.

“You can bring Kie if you want!” Kelce yells back as you walk away.

You turn to him with a thumbs up as Kie gives you a look wondering what that was about.

When the boys are nearly finished with their meal a ruckus and loud shouts divert their attention to the front of the restaurant.

In walk Pope, John B and JJ.

Rafe looks at his watch realizing it's almost time for you to close.  They must be here to pick the two of you up.

Too immersed in your conversation with Kiara you don’t notice the pogues enter, especially John B.,

Rafe watches as he sneakingly walks behind you. John B lifts you off the ground, you release a small scream, your friend giving you a fright.

JJ and Pope laugh at you while Kie just rolls her eyes,

“You’re early” she groans to the boys.

John B puts you back down on the ground. You slap his shoulder making him chuckle back at you.

The three boys split up.

JJ goes to the counter, calling Mike and asking if they have any leftover food,

Kelce speaks up watching it all, “fucking Pogues” .

Rafe just clenches his jaw at John B, he’s still following close to you as you continue to clear tables.

Pope now joined Kie behind the counter helping wipe it down as JJ goes through a bowl of chips left behind.

Topper looked toward Rafe and chuckled as he watched you. “You think she’ll come tonight?” the boys shrug their shoulders at that.

“As long as she doesn’t bring those pogues,” Kelce responds.

Rafe loses his appetite, He takes a $100 bill out and places it on the table for you and stands up walking out the booth.

His friends follow, Rafe knocks his shoulder into John B, who throws his arms in the air huffing at him.

Topper speaks up walking past, “See you later y/n” he points to your best friend “Kie” she wrinkles her nose at him wanting them out.

Later That Day

Y/N was drowning in caffeine and regret.

The late night with Rafe had been nostalgic—warm, familiar—but now, halfway through a brutal shift, she was seriously questioning her life choices. Five coffees deep and still barely upright, she was mixing up orders, second-guessing herself, and cursing the fact that her section wouldn’t slow down.

“I’ll have the fried shrimp and a side of chips,” an elderly woman requested sweetly. Y/N began scribbling it down when sudden, obnoxious laughter cut through the air like a blade.

Her eyes flicked toward the source: Kelce, Topper, and—of course—Rafe. Her pen paused mid-sentence.

Kie caught her eye from across the diner, both girls sharing the same expression—annoyed, resigned, already done. The Kook trio sauntered over to their usual booth tucked in the corner. Unfortunately, Sophia—who usually handled that section—was off today, which meant someone had to take the hit.

Kie and Y/N silently approached each other in the middle of the floor and engaged in a quiet but deadly game of rock, paper, scissors. Y/N lost. She always chose rock.

Kie smirked victoriously, mouthing a dramatic sorry not sorry as she patted Y/N’s shoulder and headed off to wipe a nearby table.

Y/N rolled her eyes and groaned, dragging her feet toward the wolves.

“Afternoon, boys,” she greeted, forcing some cheer into her voice as she handed out menus. “I’ll be your server today. The special is—”

“We already know what we want, Y/N,” Kelce cut in.

She bit back a sigh, lips pursing.

Rafe looked up at her then, really looked. The bags under her eyes. The sluggishness in her steps. The way she barely held her posture together. His stomach twisted with guilt. He hadn’t known she was working today. If he had, he never would’ve let last night go so late.

He nudged Kelce. “Dude. Don’t be rude.”

Kie, still nearby, caught that—and raised a brow. That was new.

The Kooks had a reputation. Sophia had cried more than once after serving them. Kie could handle them, having grown up in their chaos, but even she hated the table. Y/N, still new to summer shifts and fresh independence, was stepping into the lion’s den.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Rafe said softly, offering a small, sincere smile.

She blinked at the unexpected apology, but returned it without hesitation. “So, what’ll it be?”

Topper launched into his order. Y/N scribbled it down and headed to the kitchen, completely unaware that Rafe’s eyes followed her the whole way. Kie leaned in, whispered something in her ear—Y/N laughed, tired but genuine.

Rafe smiled at the sound, heart beating faster than it should. His mind drifted back to last night. That quiet beach. The cigarette passed between them. The way she didn’t cough anymore, how easily she took to it now, like it was something they’d always done. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her.

Topper waved a hand in front of his face. “Yo. Where were you last night?”

Rafe blinked, pulled from his thoughts. “Out. Why?”

“I stopped by your place—you weren’t there.”

Kelce leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Still not over Y/N, huh?”

Rafe shot him a look, jaw flexing. “What about your crush on Lily?” he snapped. “You still writing her poems?”

Topper laughed, amused by the sudden tension. But Rafe didn’t care. His eyes had returned to Y/N, who was making her way back toward them, drinks balanced on her tray.

Kelce smirked. “Thanks, princess. You look hot, by the way.”

Y/N side-eyed him, unimpressed.

Rafe grimaced. As soon as she turned away, he leaned toward Kelce. “Did you have to say that?”

Kelce shrugged. “It’s a compliment.”

“That’s not the point. Don’t talk to her like that.”

Kelce raised his hands. “Alright, man. Chill.”

Rafe’s stare didn’t ease until Kelce looked away. Then he watched Y/N return with their food.

“One steak with fries, one shrimp, and one Stacker burger,” she said, placing each meal with practiced ease. Her hand brushed Rafe’s briefly as she handed him his plate. It was a second, nothing more—but it lit him up like a live wire.

Topper spoke through a mouthful of shrimp. “Hey, Y/N—I’m throwing a party tonight. Last hurrah before school. You should come. Kooks only.”

Y/N tensed, eyes flicking to her pad of paper before forcing a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

Kelce called after her, “Bring Kie!”

She threw a thumbs-up without looking back.

As she disappeared into the kitchen again, Rafe couldn’t stop watching her. He wondered if she’d really show. He hoped so. God, he hoped so.

Just as the boys were wrapping up their meal, loud voices and laughter came from the front of the diner.

In walked the Pogues—John B, Pope, and JJ.

Rafe glanced at his watch. Nearly closing time.

The three made their way inside like they owned the place. Kie rolled her eyes. JJ beelined to the counter to harass Mike for leftovers, Pope joined her behind the bar, and John B?

He made a beeline for Y/N.

She didn’t see him coming. She was mid-conversation with Kie when he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground. She squealed in surprise, then smacked his shoulder when he set her down. Everyone laughed—except Rafe.

Kelce muttered under his breath, “Fucking Pogues.”

Rafe didn’t reply. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed on John B, who still hovered near Y/N as she cleared tables like it was nothing.

Topper noticed. “You think she’ll come tonight?”

Kelce shrugged. “As long as she doesn’t bring them.”

Rafe lost his appetite. He slid a $100 bill from his wallet, placed it quietly on the table, and stood.

The others followed. As they passed, Rafe brushed shoulders with John B. Hard. John B raised his arms in irritation, but didn’t push back.

“See you later, Y/N,” Topper called as they left. He pointed at Kie, “You too.”

She wrinkled her nose, waving them off like smoke.

And Rafe? He didn’t look back.

But he hoped—more than he wanted to admit—that she’d be there tonight.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d finally see him the way he saw her.

*Listen to Justin Skyes - Collide start at 2.16

Y/N pushed open the front door of the Thornton house, music already pulsing through the walls and laughter echoing down the hallway. The party was in full swing, red solo cups in every hand, and bodies weaving through each other like a current.

She stepped inside, slightly overwhelmed, tugging down the oversized t-shirt she’d thrown on in a hurry—one of John B’s, soft and faded from too many washes. Definitely not party attire. But she hadn’t come to impress anyone—she was here for Lily.

Her eyes scanned the crowded living room, bouncing between familiar and unfamiliar faces. Where was she?

Unbeknownst to her, Rafe had spotted her the second she walked in. He was perched on the balcony above the party, leaning on the railing with a drink in hand, laughing at something Kelce said. But when his eyes landed on her, everything else faded.

She wasn’t dressed for this—no flashy dress, no effort to blend in—but that’s what made her stand out. Hair a little messy, shirt hanging loose, legs bare beneath it. Effortless. Beautiful. And completely unaware of the way every molecule in his body pulled toward her.

He watched as she moved through the crowd, stopping people to ask where Lily was. She was clearly out of place—but Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You good?” Sarah asked beside him.

Rafe blinked, refocusing. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”

He handed his drink to Topper and pushed off the railing, weaving through the house toward her. Kelce called after him, but he didn’t answer. His focus was already locked.

Y/N looked over her shoulder when she heard footsteps, heart skipping as she saw him approach. He looked good—too good—laid back but sharp, eyes intense even under the dim lights.

“Looking for someone?” Rafe asked, voice smooth as he handed her a new drink.

“Lily,” she replied, glancing around again. “Have you seen her?”

He nodded vaguely, not answering. “Come on,” he said instead, gently taking her hand and guiding her through the mass of bodies. “Just for a minute.”

The music swelled as they reached the edge of the makeshift dance floor. She hesitated, but the drink in her hand burned away the nerves quickly.

The song changed.

“We can go over time, we can move fast then rewind…”

The beat pulsed low and seductive, wrapping around the two of them like a magnetic pull. Y/N took a sip, then another. Her buzz settled in, warm and hazy.

She didn’t resist when Rafe pulled her toward him, their bodies falling into rhythm. They moved in sync, brushing against each other, drawn together like gravity. Rafe’s hands hovered for only a second before settling on her hips.

“When you put your body on mine and collide, collide…”

The room disappeared.

Y/N’s back met Rafe’s chest, the heat of him enveloping her. His breath ghosted her neck as they swayed, pressed together, the energy between them thick and electric.

“It could be one of those nights when we don’t turn off the lights…”

She let herself fall into the rhythm, into him.

Rafe inhaled her scent like it was the only air he needed. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered along to the song, “Baby, it’s all yours if you want me, all yours if you want me…”

Y/N giggled softly, not catching the meaning, too far gone in the music, the alcohol, the moment.

“Put it down if you want me, tonight…”

She ground back against him, eyes half-lidded. Rafe’s hands tightened around her waist, lips ghosting her neck as he whispered the next line, voice lower, more deliberate.

“Baby, it’s all yours if you want it, all yours if you want it…”

He kissed her skin softly, once, then again. A trail of heat bloomed in his wake.

“Put it down if you want me, let’s collide…”

Y/N turned her head slightly, and Rafe turned her fully, eyes meeting hers—burning, intense, full of something he’d been holding in far too long.

For a moment, everything stilled.

“I know that this is love when we touch, boy you got my heart…”

She sang along softly, smiling to herself, swaying to the rhythm, unaware that every word landed in Rafe like a punch to the chest.

“Can’t nobody make me feel like you do, boy like you do…”

They stared at each other, eyes locked in a silent conversation full of memories—of being kids on the beach, of shared cigarettes, of unspoken words.

“Cause baby we could go…”

The chorus surged again, and she spun back around, her back to him once more, lifting her arms and dancing like she hadn’t a single care in the world. Like she hadn’t just made his heart stop.

“We can go over time, we can move fast then rewind…”

Rafe smiled, pressing himself back against her. He knew this moment would stay with him forever.

“When you put your body on mine and collide, collide…”

His drink finally caught up with him, a warm buzz humming through his veins. He couldn’t resist anymore.

“It could be one of those nights when we don’t turn off the lights…”

He kissed her neck again, slower this time. She didn’t pull away—in fact, she leaned into it.

“Wanna see your body on mine, and collide, collide…”

He turned her face toward him again. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. Everything was right there, in that gaze—want, nostalgia, heat, history.

“Baby it’s all yours if you want me, all yours if you want me…”

Their faces inched closer.

And then—

“Put it down if you want me, let’s collide…”

A sharp pull snapped her out of it.

Y/N blinked, suddenly aware of a presence. Her head turned.

Across the room, standing frozen in the hallway with a solo cup in hand, was Lily. Her eyes glossy. Her expression shattered.

Rafe saw her too, but it was already too late.

Y/N’s buzz crashed like a wave. Her stomach dropped.

She had just broken her sister’s heart.

—

“Honey! Someone’s here for you!”

You groan and roll your eyes, tying the lace of your black converse. 

Who could it be? And at this hour — being up at 9 a.m. is already a feat for you, so for your friends… it’s a rare occasion that happens every blue moon (in other words; never). 

You don’t have a choice about waking up early in the morning anyway since you’re working at the country club. 

You pick up your tote bag and exit your bedroom, walking down the stairs to the entry where you’re met with none other than JJ Maybank. What a… cute surprise, you tell yourself. 

You glance toward the kitchen just in case your mother is eavesdropping, but she seems to be occupied with her cooking. With that in mind, you face up to JJ, who’s wearing a grey sweatshirt and his usual black shorts — always too big for him. 

“What’s up, JJ? You know I’m heading to work,” you quickly inform him, stepping outside and joining him, closing the door behind you. 

You go down the granite stairs that lead to the entrance door of your house, JJ following you to your truck — or rather your old dad’s truck he lent you because he was oh so tired of dropping you off at the country club.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna be quick,” he replies, standing in front of you to stop you in your tracks. He’s a bit destabilized by your eagerness to leave for the country club, but he won’t give up. “Would you listen?” he asks, raising up his eyebrows, wild strands of blond hair gracing the side of his face, his blue eyes locking with yours.

“I’m listenin’,” you assure him and cross your arms over your chest draped in a tube top, the straps of your yellow bikini visible.

“Well, you know when I helped you with your flat.”

He points to the back tire on the left side of your car and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips. He mirrors you, letting out a small laugh. 

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering when you were stuck at the beach, your tire partially flat, and how you were so stressed out about a random orange icon flashing on your dashboard (that you know now means that one of your tires is deflated). 

JJ was passing by and offered his help when he saw the scared expression on your face. He almost instantly noticed the flat, which you had no idea was there — lack of better judgment, you guess, or that you know straight up nothing about cars in general.

“I’ve talked about it with Pope and his father,” he begins, “and the cracks on your tires might be the reason why it deflates quite quickly.” 

You frown. This wasn’t the news that you needed… Stupid old truck. 

“But there are cracks on all of them…” 

He nods at that, giving you a sheepish smile. “I guess that one just deflates faster than the others. The rest of them seem fine.”

“... Yeah,” you sigh, “that’s bullshit. I could replace only this one, though, right?” You bite down on your lip and glance at JJ, hoping this isn’t such a big deal as it seems to be.

If only your father was home more often, you’re sure he’d have taken the matter in hands way sooner, but he has to be away every two weeks for work. 

So you basically have to manage everything on your own — your mom doesn’t have much knowledge about mechanics either. 

Thankfully, you have JJ, which you never thought he’d lend you a hand, but things change, don’t they?

“Huh, not really.” JJ shakes his head. “They’re too old, and weren’t used enough, so if you replace one, it’s gonna be… unbalanced, kind of. It’s not a good idea, in fact,” he explains to you.

“Right, okay. I can’t buy four tires. I’d have to tell my dad, but he’s not even here!” You whine, completely annoyed. 

“I could ask John B. to lend you his battery backup. You can inflate your tires and take their pressure with that little thing,” he kindly offers. You seriously don’t know what you’d do without him. “I’ll show you. And in any case, I can always offer you a ride whenever you want.”

“JJ,” you laugh, cracking a smile, “you can’t travel from The Cut to Figure Eight on your bike every time I have to go somewhere. I’m already surprised you did it just to come tell me this.”

JJ is a bit saddened by your rejection, but he doesn’t let it show, still smirking, knowing he’ll do whatever for a pretty girl like you — kook or not, you have a little special something. 

“Besides, Rafe comes to the club often. He’ll come pick me up.”

His smile doesn’t stay long at the mention of his name. 

“Rafe? Rafe Cameron?” He huffs, seemingly disgusted. 

You don’t take it personally, aware that the two of them don’t get along — it’s actually worse than that, but you don’t want to admit it — and you get into your truck, sliding down the window so you can still chat with the boy. 

“Yeah, who else?” You lean your forearms over the window, looking at JJ who is a bit bothered, biting the inside of his cheek. 

He should have remembered that despite your friendliness toward the pogues, you still come from Figure Eight and are friends with kooks — but Rafe Cameron is something else. He’s not like every other eccentric and egocentric kook, he’s literally worse than that. A true coke addict asshole that nobody likes — except you, for some unknown reason. 

You’ve spent a lot of time on the beach lately, and that includes partying with JJ and his group of friends. At first, it was an excuse to revive the friendship between Kiara and you, and then you were the reason for Kiara to be in close proximity with Sarah. 

Quickly, Sarah didn’t need your presence anymore to hang out with Kiara, the two of them finally putting their past conflict aside. Sarah is John B’s girlfriend after all, so she was part of the group even before you made your way inside. 

But your name was being mentioned many times — either to ask if you’d come or when exactly would you be there — and so you being around became almost a habit for JJ. 

Being reminded that you have a life outside of the usual beach parties… is weird. Especially when you interact with Rafe Cameron.

“I don’t know, there could be another guy named Rafe who’s actually a decent human being,” JJ retorts and the look on his face tells you he’s totally serious. 

“You don’t know him, JJ. Don’t say that,” you complain, but you still keep a teasing smile on your lips. “And no, picking fights with him isn’t enough to say you know him!”

You cut him off right when he’s about to speak, knowing he’d say something similar along those lines. 

“It’s still enough to tell you what you need to know about him,” he grumbles.

“Wouldn’t that mean you’re… the same?” 

He rolls his eyes, but you notice the corner of his lips tugging upward.

“All I’m saying is… be careful,” he adds, his eyes staying on you longer than it needs to. 

It’s funny because something tells you Rafe would say the same thing. He’d probably throw in more insults and refuse you even speak to some pogues — particularly anyone who’s related to John B. — but you’re the kind to not listen to biased opinions. 

Rafe doesn’t like JJ for personal reasons and JJ doesn’t like Rafe for personal reasons as well. 

“As always, JJ,” you smile, leaning in to start the engine. “Thank you for the help! I’ll call you back… and drive safe!” 

He watches you leaving the driveway, getting on his bike. 

—

You escalate Rafe’s truck as he holds the door open for you. You’re a bit tipsy, so your movements aren’t as coordinated as normally. 

You sit first on your knees, your ass quite literally in his face, skirt riding up your thighs and exposing your bathing suit. Rafe raises an eyebrow, finding you especially clumsy with alcohol in your blood. 

You eventually turn around and sit on your butt, gripping his leather seat to keep your balance. 

“All good?” he asks.

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p’ with a little drunken smile. 

He nods and closes the door for you, getting around his truck to get into the driver seat. He starts his truck and puts on his seatbelt, you doing the same. 

Your hair is still damp by the water, shoulders covered by Rafe’s plaid shirt. He gave it to you earlier since you were a bit chilly after swimming in the ocean, not having brought a jacket with you. 

Wetting your hair wasn’t a good idea — you know you’ll have to take care of it when back home — but you think it was worth it with the fun that you had. 

Rafe’s friends have been good company and you were more at ease than usual, even though alcohol was partially a cause of it. It was really fun.

The sun is setting, the clouds painted in a soft orange colour. 

Rafe sets the truck in reverse, then in drive, leaving the beach’s parking lot. You look outside, watching the many houses passing before you, driving into the direction of your house. 

Your neighbourhood isn’t that far from the Cameron’s estate, but you still don’t live in those super big houses you start to see when going to Tanneyhill. Yours is more modest, though you still have a pretty comfortable life.

The drive is mostly silent, only you singing to the tune playing on the radio, which would normally annoy Rafe, but since it’s you, he allows it — doesn’t mean he finds it charming or anything, he just doesn’t bother telling you to shut it. 

When he parks in your driveway, some type of curious mood settles between the two of you. 

His elbow is laying on the console while he has his other hand on the wheel, gold, chunky rings adorning his fingers. Rafe notices your father’s truck, remembering you telling him you had a flat. 

“Everything’s good with your truck?” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Not really. I pretty much need new tires if I don’t want to inflate the tires every week,” you explain. “It sucks. Luckily, I have JJ to help me with it until my dad’s back.”

“That pogue? Why?” 

His answer was almost too predictable. 

“Well, ‘cause he offered to,” you respond. 

Rafe scoffs, and you shoot him a look. “You should’ve asked me,” he trails off, looking ahead of him, only glancing at you when you don’t give him an answer right away. 

“You’re already giving me rides all around the island!” you argue, furrowing your brows. You hear him mumbling a ‘course I do’ at that. “Didn’t want to bother you with that.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Rafe,” you call his name in a scolding way, almost telling him to quit it, but this isn’t as easy as it is with him. “He was nice and he offered his help. I didn’t see myself refusing.”

“...” he pauses before adding a comment that you know is negative and full of judgment, “him and all his friends are bad news.”

“He’s my friend,” you retort and he doesn’t like that at all. 

“Don’t say that,” he almost immediately says, a repulsed look on his face. You could have laughed right at this moment, but you held back — surely not a good idea when he’s in a bad mood. 

“‘Kay, I won’t,” you give up. “But let’s drop the topic… My mom’s probably wondering what’s takin’ us so much time anyway.” 

“I told her I’d bring you back at eight, we’re good.”

You glimpse at the digital clock on his dashboard, reading exactly 7:48 p.m.. You rarely go back home that early, but you weren’t feeling like going to Topper's to continue partying. Plus, you have to wake up early once again tomorrow to meet up with JJ at The Chateau. 

As you look back at Rafe, his eyes are already on you. A shiver passes through you, an unexpected knot forming in your stomach. It’s like your pulse is accelerating just by his blue orbs staring at you…

He leans in closer and you instinctively do the same. 

The sunlight reflects into the rear mirror, the shadow of his seat casting his face, curtain bangs falling in front of his eyes. 

He brings your lips to his with a hand on your neck, thumb brushing over your jaw. You let out a whimper, moving your lips over his own, the cold feeling of his rings contrasting with the burning skin of your neck. 

It’s like you instantly sober up, following the movements of his hungry mouth, breathlessly trying to catch up with him. He leans in even closer — if it’s possible at this point — dominating you with his height and larger body, making you arch your back to meet his pink lips. 

You can finally breathe when he shifts to your cheek, gradually descending to the side of your throat and planting kisses there that don’t mean to be patient at all. You’re rapidly overwhelmed, even though it really doesn’t displease you… but you have to keep your head straight. 

You’re still parked in your driveway and you’d be terrified if your mom sees you making out with Rafe Cameron out of all people. She loves Rafe, but kissing a boy who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s a no-no. 

“Rafe,” you gently warn him, his lips leaving wet smooches along your throat and shoulder. 

You push on his chest and he backs away from the crook of your neck, seeing you shaking your head as a ‘no’. 

“Why not?” he questions, a bit out of breath. 

“Because I don’t want it to go further…” 

He frowns, looking you up and down. His hand is still holding you, his comforting warmth enveloping you. What a bummer to refuse him, but you have to. 

“I don’t do casual things, if you know what I mean,” you admit, kind of embarrassed, biting down on your lip. 

His frown deepens as if he’s trying to decipher you, but it’s not like you’re hiding anything… You’re not a big mystery, you’re rather an open book. 

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” He wonders, hearing the amusement behind his voice. 

“No!” You deny, shoving his shoulder back playfully, his hand reluctantly leaving you. “I’m just saying it’s not my thing.”

He does a short pause where he’s staring at you and you’re not sure what’s going on in that pretty blond head of his. His expression isn’t teasing as it was seconds ago. It literally looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons… of dating you. 

“I get it,” he finally breathes out. 

And then he reaches for the door handle, stepping out of his truck. He gets around the vehicle, going to open the door for you. He offers his hand and you take it, jumping out. 

He guides you to your front door, but you call his name, making him halt, turning around to face you. 

“Please, does it… I mean, tell me I didn’t make things weird,” you worry out, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip once again. 

Rafe rolls his eyes. 

“Wonderin’ if I’ll still give you rides, hm?” He raises a brow, giving you a questioning look. 

“I’m not like that…!” You huff, offended. You aren’t using your friendship with Rafe only for his truck. 

“‘M kidding,” he says. “I told you I get it. Trust what I say, yeah?”

You nod your head, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Where do I take you tomorrow?”

“Oh, huh…” You can’t tell him to drive you to John B’s, right? Sure, you don’t personally care about going to The Cut as a kook nor do you care about pogues going to Figure Eight, but Rafe… It’s another story. “I’ll go on my own. I have to take the truck.”

“Really? I thought you were too worried to use it,” he wonders and you know Rafe isn’t stupid, so instead of lying, you just try to avoid the topic. 

“Yeah… but it’s fine, I won’t be driving too far.”

Another pause. 

He has a tendency to make your pulse go crazy over nothing. 

“Alright,” he eventually says. “Call me if you need help. I’m here for that.”

—

The way JJ’s fingers are making you moan is embarrassing, to say the least. In fact, there is more than the moans escaping your mouth that is embarrassing. 

For example, the fact that you told Rafe you didn’t want anything happening between you two — more specifically sex — but you’re letting yourself be fingered by JJ Maybank.

You don’t owe anything to Rafe, but it's such an asshole move that you didn’t even think would happen. 

You just went to The Chateau as it was planned for JJ to take a look at your tires. John B. was there as well of course, showing you how to use the battery in case you’d need it again for any inconveniences with your dad’s truck. 

As JJ was inflating your back tire, John B. had to leave, Sarah needing his help at Tanneyhill. 

After that, you went inside to drink water and cool down a bit. 

And so you found yourself on the couch… with JJ… slipping your hands under your skirt to pull down your white panties, now pooling around your ankles, resting on top of your low-rise converse. 

You suppose the insufferable heat got to your head, but you know that it isn’t enough of a good reason to justify JJ’s fingers pumping into your pussy, thumb circling your puffy clit. 

You have your hand sneaking into his shorts then boxers, making him moan against your lips. 

The sensations are too intoxicating, opening your legs wider for him despite your underwear hanging around your ankles. His fingers are so big they have your pussy stretched out around them tightly, but your wetness makes it easier to thrust in, his digits patting the sensitive spot inside of you. 

“Fuck, please,” JJ mumbles between kisses, glancing down at his two fingers disappearing in your soppy pussy, squelching noises echoing in the quiet living room. 

You don’t know if he begs for his release or yours, but you apply more pressure and tighten your hold around his cock, jutting your hips upward to chase the pleasurable feeling of him filling you up. 

“You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasps out and you whine in response, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening. “Soaking my fingers- shit,” he hisses when you accelerate the pace of your hand, fingers a bit sticky from his pre-cum, gliding down his length smoothly but your movements still being a little bit clumsy because of the restraining space.

 You cum around his fingers, legs and arms shaking slightly, JJ helping you ride off your high as you make him spill into his boxers, staining the material. 

He sloppily kisses you, muffling both his groans and your moans. 

When he pulls his fingers out, you feel real empty, his presence still there, hole quivering. You try to catch your breath, panting heavily. 

His cheeks are flushed red, strands of blond hair sticking to his damp forehead. You now feel extremely sweaty, the hot weather not helping at all. 

JJ suddenly seems shy — a trait that he literally doesn’t have — avoiding your eyes until he can’t, feeling your insistent gaze on him. 

“I’m gonna go clean up ‘cause… well, yeah.”

He gets up and you nod your head, even though he can’t see you since he already has his back on you, heading to the bathroom. 

You dress back up, startled when your phone lights up, Rafe’s name appearing on the screen as he’s calling you. 

You let your phone ring twice before picking up, biting down on your lip nervously. That’s so embarrassing, you remind yourself. 

“Hello-”

“You’re on the other side of the island?” You hear Rafe angrily asking on the other side of the line. It’s not really a question, though, because you know he already knows the answer. 

“First of all, how do you know?”

“That’s not the fucking subject,” he retorts right away, “are you there?”

“Well, yeah. Why does it even matter anyway?” You huff, rolling your eyes. 

You eye the hallway where JJ disappeared, hoping he doesn’t come out while you’re quite obviously on the phone with Rafe.

so let’s say jj’s dad kind of gets his act together, gets help or whatever— still an asshole, but not so awful anymore. jj’s relationship with him is still totally up in the air, but atleast he’s not a danger to himself or others anymore. he meets your mother, sad and recently single — and they become inseparable.

they’re great — really, JJ wasn’t the most trusting of this relationship at first, worried it would go up in flames and he’d have to pick up the pieces when his dad eventually spirals — but it seems they’re pretty good for eachother. he’d even go as far to say your mother brought the best out of his old man.

but that wasn’t really what he was focused on.

they moved in together pretty fast, and along with your mother — came you. god, so pretty — totally his type, like if he’d seen you at one of the pogue parties on the beach, he’d be all over you. sweet, in that girl next door way, cute smile, innocent. he feels sick.

where it was discussed before in my stepbro!rafe post, rafe has very little worry regarding the morality of the situation, happy to take you under his wing and bend you to his will. jj however, is just… better than that. he knows it’s wrong, recognises how fucked up it would be — but it doesn’t stop him from feeling a type of way toward you.

he tried to sister-zone you, ruffling you on your head and pinching your cheek and treating you the way he would a regular little sister — but that only made him feel worse, because he couldn’t stop the burning attraction he felt toward you bubbling in his gut like something that had been left on the stove for too long, steam clogging his brain.

you just seemed so oblivious to his constant battle, and if you weren’t so naive he’d think you were doing it on purpose. you always stood too close when you spoke to him, and he’d have to press his lips together in restraint at the way you’d look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes melting the ice around his heart. sometimes you’d go as far as to touch his chest absentmindedly, and he’d think about how it would look to a bystander, his little step sister all over him like this, practically touching him up. god, it was wrong— but it made him so hard.

you didn’t seem to worry about how wrong it would look when you’d steal his t-shirts to sleep in, or kiss him on the cheek before he leaves to run around with his friends for the day. your parents were none the wiser, just happy to see the two of you were getting along. you’d even begged him to let you hang out with the pogues, and he couldn’t say no to you, so of course he allowed you — only to immediately regret his choice when he had to spend the day with you bouncing around in your little bikini, tits pressed to his side when you’d hug him, outline of your chubby cunt visible through the white bikini bottoms when you’d come out the water. he was visibly disgusted when he went home and jerked off that night. came a bunch of times, though.

the straw that broke the camels back was when he’d heard this… pathetic whining sound from your room, and being the great guy he was thought maybe you were injured or sad— only to find you, who thought you’d been home alone, face down on the bed, naked from the waist down, grinding your glossy pussy against a pillow. he was wrecked.

he begged himself to walk away, leave the room and you’d never know. hell, go be a pervert and jerk off over it in your room, you’ve seen enough — but he couldn’t, not whilst the opportunity was just presenting itself to him like this. he even had the audacity to hope you secretly knew he was home, and was hoping he’d find you. jj being jj chooses to awkwardly clear his throat, scrunching his face as you yelp, scrambling on the sheets to cover your dignity. there was no point covering yourself now however, the image of your pretty pussy was burned into his retinas, haunting him every time he blinked like someone had tattooed the sight to the inside of his eyelids as some kind of sick prank.

“hey, uh—” he starts, cringing at himself already. you fire off into a barrage of apologies, face all hot and tears at the ready.

“jayj, i had no idea you were home! i’m — i’m so sorry you had to see that i’ve just been so — so frustrated lately and needed to —”

he nods, scratching his cheek and comes to sit by you on the bed.

“you uh— you don’t have to apologise. i was gonna ask if you… need any help.”

once these things start, it’s hard to wrap them up. easy to let them go too far. that’s how you end up with his face between your legs, and then clenching around his fingers, and then shockingly— cumming around his cock. he’d had plenty of experience fucking, he messed with lots of girls in the past— but the way his heart swelled each time you whined his name, the way tears would slip from your eyes when you came, this was different. more intimate, shit— the L word even sprung to mind a few times.

he came all over your tummy, and even cleaned you up afterwards because you were too sleepy. once everything died down that guilt returned, biting at the inside of his abdomen and clawing around his throat as he stares at your ceiling, your warm body snuggling into him, breathing softly into his neck. he thinks he might have a heart attack when you sleepily mumble “y’such a good big brother jayj, thanks for lookin’ after me.”

even with sarah standing between the two of you, you on one side of her, him on the other, he’ll still reach behind her back to tug at your hair— staring straight ahead, not even indulging in watching your head gently tip back— because he’s a big boy, he’d never tug too hard. he does let himself glance at you with a smirk when you pout and fix your heads position, sarah tsking at his actions, sending a non committal swat his way, none the wiser.

he’ll embarrass you at your sleepovers with your girl friends, barging into your room when you’re all sat chatting in a circle on your carpet, messing up your dresser and shelves as he looks for something he apparently left there. your friends don’t complain, either too intimidated by his mean presence or thinking he’s sexy enough to get away with it, hair being twirled in his direction which makes your tummy twitch in irritation and you don’t know why. if you tell him to hurry up, or that you don’t have whatever he’s looking for, or god forbid you tell him to get out, he doesn’t care who’s around— he’ll slowly stride over and squat down by your side, squishing your cheeks with his hand making you look at him. “s’that any way to talk to your big brother?” he hums, a threat of course. your friends, wiser than you, suspect something weird is going on but never would say anything. an accusation like that would be crazy, right?

he glares at you when you’re sauntering around in your bikini, tugging at the strings holding it to your body whenever he passes you making you let out a displeased moan that makes his cock bloat, even if you pair it with an attempted smack. “don’t wear that shit around then?” he shrugs like it’s simple logic as he walks away.

he would die before he lets anyone call him “rafey”, but when little old you says it — he has to admit it’s kind of cute. he does think you’re sweet, he really does — when you haven’t seen him all day and despite him treating you all mean, or acting like a total perv you’re still excited to see him and talk his ear off about your girly drama he doesn’t care for. “oh— and then rafey, i forgot to tell you, she got all up in her face and was like ‘you’re not even a real kook!’ and everyone was like ohhhh—” you ramble, following him through the kitchen as he walks through the house, getting on with his daily life just trusting you’ll follow.

“oh yeah?” he hums, so evidently disinterested but you’re too stupid to notice. he heads towards the bathroom as you continue telling your story and you stop at the door, trailing off with a little furrowed brow when he walks inside.

“rafey m’not done with the story!” you whine, and he’s just casually yanking you inside by the forearm, eyes rolling back into his head as he nudges the door shut behind him.

“yeah yeah, keep talkin’ i just gotta take a leak.” he works his belt open expertly with his hand, looking at you boredly waiting for you to continue. however your interest has totally shifted, happy to get all close and personal with your favourite step-sibling, your innocent brain curious to how his anatomy worked. he’s happy to teach you, he even lets you hold his cock whilst he pee’s, smushing your cheek to his arm and giggling as you aim it into the bowl, giggling more when rafe winces and says “shit, stop squeezin it so hard would you?” irritably.

he is always there for you in other ways of course, like when it’s storming or you’ve had a nightmare and you show up at his bedroom door at 4AM. he looks all cute standing there squinting half awake in just his sweatpants, rubbing at his eyes with messy hair. he lets you in reluctantly when you whine about how you can’t get back to sleep without him, watching you clamber onto his bed, happy as a clam in your fluffy socks, one of them pulled up your calf and the other barely hanging on to your foot. he shakes his head and shuts the door behind him of course, his dad definitely wouldn’t approve of rafe taking advantage of his new step-sister like this, and hell, sarah would surely kill him in his sleep.

he leaves rough kisses on your temple when you snuggle into him, and when you get all restless and try to wake him up properly to entertain you because you just can’t get back to sleep, he really has no choice but to sling your thigh open over his bent leg and stuff a hand down your pink panties, being sure to keep a hand free to cover your mouth whilst he strokes the audible stickiness with a roughness that was totally trademark to rafe. he had to, okay? you wouldn’t go to sleep and leave him alone otherwise! he was only trying to calm you down.

when he gets into his explosive arguments with ward, which was inevitable and horrifyingly often — you’d be surprised at his softness directed towards you if you ever happened to walk in, or be witness to the aggression he displayed. even when mad, he’d sigh and storm over to you, clasping a hand on your shoulder and turning you around toward the door. “go back upstairs, kid alright? this doesn’t — doesn’t concern you. big kid stuff.” he tries to usher you out.

“hell— maybe she should hear this rafe! she’s family after all, and you’re screwing all of us!” ward stands, lifting his arms in resignation. your stepbrother is quick to let go of you to close the distance between him and his father, grabbing his collar roughly and pointing a finger in his face, panting roughly through his nose.

“you leave her out of this. do not fucking play with me dad, a’ight?” he shakes like a feral dog, but still manages to turn his head to you who’s lingering in the doorway nervously. “go, sweetheart.” sweetheart, ward stares at him— the shock from his sons aggression melting into one of disgust, suspicion. surely rafe isn’t doing what he thinks he’s doing.

You loved when JJ came home.

It was simple, something he did everyday — well, most days atleast if he wasn’t off on some grand adventure you’d hear about a few days later, curled up to his side on the couch digging your toes into his thigh and begging him for details.

Anyway, JJ was different when he’d come home. Not like himself in the morning, running around frantically always half way out the door, still pulling up his pants holding the bagel you had put in the toaster between his teeth, ruffling your hair as he passes you as an apology for stealing your breakfast.

JJ when he came home was calmer. Not always super tired, just… done with the day, happy to be home, happy to see you. He was still warm from the sun, despite it having gone down hours ago, and always smelt like salt water still from being in and out the ocean all day. He’d wear a lazy dopey smile, dropping down on the worn leather of the couch beside you, spreading his arms along the back of it.

Today was different, and you wanted to be your usual silly and playful self with him, chatting until it gets late, your mother passed out asleep and his father taking a night shift up on the pier, a job JJ thinks he’s lucky to have talked himself into, yet pleasantly surprised he’s kept it up this long. Nights like these, your chatting would turn to playful wrestling, any excuse to get your hands on eachother and then a few guilty, chaste kisses once he’d inevitably pinned you. You weren’t in your usual mood however.

He hadn’t touched you in a while, not like that anyway. The glossy, pearl pink of your nail had been chipped off from your incessant nibbling, anxious thoughts swirling your mind regarding whether JJ had come to his senses, realising he shouldn’t be helping his little step-sister like this, and he’d rather just pretend it didn’t ever happen. God, had he spoken to someone about it? Been guided out of your needy hands? Your wondering had lead you to pull away slightly, not seek out his help like you so badly wanted to, trying to please yourself the way he did, attempting to remember the exact way he curved his fingers against your squelchy spot.

But your fingers weren’t long like his, and no matter how far you bent your wrist it just wouldn’t crook up to the angle you needed— and you didn’t even wanna get started on your lack of coordination in rubbing your clit at the same time, it was all too much for your hazy little head, and after pretty much working yourself to tears you’d resorted to huffing, pulling up your pyjama shorts and going to sulk on the couch in the dark, room lit up by old Spongebob re-runs.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when JJ came home, and you wasn’t sure why. Well, you were — you were in a foul mood, and him walking through the door all warm and smiley and devastatingly charming just made you throb harder, clenching hard enough that you could crush a fuckin’ walnut in there. His dumb little sleeveless shirts and shorts and backwards red cap smushed over an abundance of sun-bleached hair. He didn’t even try, he just woke up and looked like that. It was twisted. How dare he.

“No ‘hello’? Y’know, you’re too pretty for all that pouting. Wanna talk about it? Talk to Papa J?”

He’s already teasing you, it’s like he knew. He flops down onto the couch next to you, leather covered couch cushions hissing under his weight, stretching himself across the space like he usually did. You wanted to crawl into his lap and rock against his dick and have your tongues wrap around eachother, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your step-brother, you both needed to resist for a painful amount of time before you gave in, to prove to yourselves you were good, normal people. You didn’t see the point, you’d said it once and you still thought it— JJ was just bein’ a good big brother, helping you out when you need him so desperately. However, the denial of your shared feelings had become routine, and if it’s what it took for JJ to give in and help you, you were happy to play ball.

“S’bad JJ, I shouldn’t say. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You all but huff, turning back to the TV. Your lashes flutter a little when he urgently shifts closer, tilting his head trying to gauge your expression. You kind of wanted to smile, you liked that he cared.

“Wh- yes it matters. Is someone bothering you?” Yes. You. A tidal wave of warmth brushes over your arms, stomach curling tightly in on itself at the thought of JJ being protective over you, teaching someone who was being mean to you a lesson. You bite your lip, and when you turn to look at him again he’s closer than he was before, brow creased waiting for you to speak.

You look at him, look at that little cut on his lip. The graze on his cheek. Wonder how it happened. You exhale slowly through your nose, brows furrowing and you blink a few times as you gather your thoughts. He thinks it’s cute when you do that.

“No one is bothering me. I just… I haven’t been able t’do what you did. As good as you did it.” You slowly spell it out, not wanting to say any of the crude terms, or even specifically have to own up to what you wanted. You said a millisecond-long prayer in hoping he would simply understand what you meant, but when you’d lifted your gaze back up to the blonde boy after shyly staring at your chipped nail polish, he was squinting one eye at you, mouth a little gaped.

“Yeah, uh— y’gonna have to be a touch more specific than that, honey. Know I’m a genius, but I ain’t a mind reader.” He leans back into the couch, relaxing once you told him no one was picking on you.

You clench your fist in your lap, looking up at the ceiling in despair as if the answer to your problems was up there. You drop your eyes back to JJ, the cause and true answer to your problem and brace yourself. “I haven’t been able to… touch myself as good as you did it to me. Tried all night Jayj, even started crying ‘cos I couldn’t do it right. Just feel all… empty since we last did it.” Your bottom lip pushes out and you curl your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them, physically making yourself as small as possible seeing as you’d wanted to disappear into the couch in that moment.

For once, JJ is lost for words.

You can’t handle the silence as he stares at you, contemplating his next action. So, you speak again. “Sorry Jayj… j’st need you to do everything for me.” You look so pitiful, it’s sweet in a kicked puppy kind of way. He’d like to consider himself a helpful kinda guy, infact he knew he was— he wouldn’t be in half the shit John B dragged him into every single day if he wasn’t constantly putting his ass on the line to help him. This was no different, this was risky. He could break up a happy family, ruin things for his dad if he got caught doing this. God, he’s such a troublemaker it made him want you more.

“Look,” He speaks, closing his eyes and fixing his hat on his head. He speaks your name softly and it just sounds better on his tongue than anyone else’s. You squish your thighs together, preparing to be shut down. Your face is all pained, and he realises you’ve come to him practically begging him to touch you because you’re hurting without him. His dick jumps in his shorts. “I’ve been tryin’ t’do the right thing. Y’know? S’not easy. When you walk around looking like that. Looking at me like that. You think I haven’t been thinking about the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Was he mad? Your brow creases even more and he thinks you might cry, so he scoots back up to you, draping an arm round you like you’re just a kid who’s being comforted after a scolding. “It’s really that bad?” He tongues at the cut on his lip. You nod, feeling sorry for yourself and he exhales slowly out his nose. He thinks for a bit, and then just stares at you for a while. He think he might even kiss you, but then he speaks. “Lie back.”

You’re happy as a clam when you scoot back on the couch, happy you’re getting some special attention from your step brother. “Oh yeah, all smiles now huh.” He tsks playfully. You lean your back against the armrest, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs just a little. He rubs his hands over his face again in preparation before he turns his body to face you, immediately dropping down his gaze to see the wet patch in your shorts.

“Lord have mercy.” He shakes his head, a hand pressing thoughtlessly to the back of your thigh, spreading you wider. “Whyyyy do you do this to me?” He sighs under his breath, ever so casually pressing a thumb between your clothed folds, fat lips swallowing the fabric of your shorts. You suck in a breath, and release it with a whimper and his eyes leave your crotch to look at you analytically as you do so. “Jesus, alright. Take these off.” he taps the side of your hip, signalling to your shorts and you wriggle out of them, unsure what to do with them so you clutch them between your hands by your stomach. He swipes them from your hold and throws them over his shoulder, busying himself with slotting a couch cushion under your lower back. “Wont be needing those.”

“JJ, might need them incase someone comes in!” You whine, but he ignores you, stroking your thighs and squishing the dough of them, spreading your legs to witness your glossy, honeyed treasure between them.

“If someone comes in, we’re screwed as it is, shorts aren’t gonna save you.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his pants, rock hard already. “Show me what you were doin’ and I’ll uh, I’ll try and teach you, yeah.” The blonde tried to keep his voice level, feeling better about himself if he kept this purely educational, just helping you learn your downstairs a little better.

You resist a whine, face already hot in embarrassment from asking. He watches your painted toes curl into the couch cushion, knees knocking together as you suck on your bottom lip shyly. “It’s okay, c’mon pop ‘em open again. Not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He cooes, coaxing you with a hand on your knee. You spread your legs, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling on the tips, getting them nice and wet. You had to be doing it on purpose, this innocent act wasn’t gonna hold up much longer if you kept staring at him with those sweet doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Started like this…” You lower your fingers with a frustrated pout, dragging them down to your clit and jolting slightly when your fingers brush it, sensitive. JJ practically salivates at the reaction, watching you like a hawk, looming over you. He thinks back to the first time he touched you down there, and you got all choked up because it was too sensitive and you got all overwhelmed, clawing at his hand and saying it was too much. He recalls having to calm you down with kisses and tell you to just relax and let it happen. He’s been with quite a few ladies over time, whether it be at pogue parties, ex flings or FWB’s— none quite as sensitive as you though. None quite lovable as you either. He can’t believe he’s thinking that.

He watches you pant, his coarse fingers stroking your leg whilst you grind away at your clit, focused and letting out sweet little squeaks in response. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? Man, you’re so worth all the trouble.” He speaks quietly, intimately. You felt special when he spoke like this, never a time where JJ isn’t revelling in his bravado, loud and jokey, forever performing to deflect from his issues. You got calm JJ, intimate JJ, your very own.

You were already making a mess of yourself, so it didn’t take long until your fingers were curling down toward your hole, spreading your folds as you pushed them downward. You wasn’t too sure if that was for your pleasure, or for JJ’s view but it made you feel good regardless. You sink a finger in, eyes flitting up to watch your step-brothers reaction, clenching around your single digit when his eyes leave your pussy to look straight into yours. “There y’go.” He hums, and you get to work.

He see’s your frustration around 15 seconds in, when you just can’t get the right angle. You fidget, moving your wrist about, tilting your hips up a little— but after a while all you can do is let out a sad whine, looking to JJ for help. He gives in hilariously fast. “Okay, alright, lemme do it.” But he doesn’t start without gently taking your wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, briefly sucking off any remnants of you lingering on your wet fingers. “Real sweet, just like I remember.” He muses, making you trickle out more arousal from the way you clenched around nothing.

His breath catches in his throat when he slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading them and taking the sight of you in. It wasn’t until you spoke up with a pained “Please!” that he swivelled his hand around, fingers pressing against your wanting hole.

“Lemme in, pretty. Thats it, g’nna need you to relax just a little, yeah?” He pushes a finger in and even then you feel the stretch, much bigger than your finger— and you still weren’t used to it. “Thats my girl.” He lets slip, and his eyes flicker to yours guiltily at the sentiment, only to see your brows pinched and jaw slightly agape, ruined cunt fluttering around his finger. “T’aww.” He cooes quietly, returning his eyes to the task at hand.

He lets the ball of his hand smush to your clit so you can grind on it, and at the feeling your knee jerks up a little, letting out a pleased yelp of surprise. “Shh, shh, shh.” His brow creases, a free hand holding your knee to keep you open. “Just take it baby, there you go.” He was really getting into it now, his pupil swallowing his eye, something darker about the way he stared at you in the dim light of the living room. He slides in another finger, and the coil in your stomach is already starting to tighten.

“A-already g’nna cum soon, Jayj!” You whine and he grins like an old happy dog, the brink of a laugh, wide lipped and toothy.

“Thats the point, right?” He teases, but you don’t take him in, eagerly humping your hips up into his hand, small and needy ‘please!’s spilling from your mouth. “What’ja need? I’m right here, babe.” His free hand strokes your waist now, thumb sliding along your skin to soothe you, possibly keep you quiet and calm.

“Closer.” Your lashes flutter, tears welling beneath them making the dark clusters kiss at the corners, bonded by the shimmering drops threatening to fall. “Want you closer.” You’re looking— no, staring at his mouth and he knows what you want specifically. He doesn’t care anymore, what’s a little kissing between step-siblings? Suppose it doesn’t matter when his fingers are buried into your cunt collecting a pearly ring around his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, fingers going at your more vigorously once he leans over you, simply breathing hot air onto your lips for a moment before pushing his own against yours. You feel the cut on his bottom lip skim yours and instinctively your tongue lulls out to lick it, wanting to taste anything he had to offer. You felt depraved, your shame quickly fleeting as JJ drew you closer to your orgasm. You feel so dirty when you suck on his tongue, just the way he taught you last time, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. God, you wanted him deep in your throat, wanted to taste him everywhere, devour everything he had to offer. How could you go from a naive young girl who knows nothing of intimacy to this little desperate slut all from a few kisses and JJ’s magic fingers (As he so charmingly named them) You were starting to think it was in you all this time.

“Good girl. Can feel it comin’, just gotta let it go n’relax. M’here now.” He groans into your mouth, fingers brushing that soft gooey spot deep in your core making you cry out. He had to pacify you with more kisses, wondering what it would take to get you over that finish line. He stalls, leaving gentle kisses across your jaw as you mewl, trying to find the right words to say. He knew it was words you needed, preening and practically folding in half for him anytime the blonde directed any praise towards you at all, even as simple as a “Good job!” in a day to day basis.

It was risky, but he thought he’d try something kind of sick. Test the waters a little.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t wanna wake up your mom now do you? Probably better off no one sees your big brother helpin’ you get that pretty pussy off, huh?”

You’re clenching so hard it nearly pushes his fingers out. God, you’re both sick.