#older!rafe

you're fifteen minutes early. you're never early.

the waiting room is empty, which is good because you don't think you could sit here making small talk with another patient right now. the white noise machine hums from somewhere behind the reception desk, a constant static that's supposed to be soothing but just makes you more aware of every sound your body makes. your breathing. the rustle of your clothes. the tap of your shoe against the floor that you can't seem to stop.

you left your hair down even though you always tie it back for sessions because it feels too vulnerable otherwise. but today you want to feel vulnerable. you want him to notice.

you check your phone. 6:47pm. his last appointment of the day is always at seven. you know this because you've been coming here every thursday at seven for six months and you've never seen anyone leave after you.

six months.

you remember the first session. how you sat on that couch and couldn't look at him while you explained why you were there. "i have a problem with sex," you'd said, and the words felt stupid coming out of your mouth. so clinical and detached.

"tell me about it," he'd said, and his voice was so calm that you actually looked up at him. he was leaning back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, pen in hand but not writing anything yet.

so you told him about the compulsion. about the way you'd fuck someone and feel nothing and then do it again the next night hoping it would be different. the way you fixated on people... strangers, mostly, and built entire fantasies around them until the reality of actually being with them shattered everything. how you were chasing something you couldn't understand or begin to grasp.

he'd listened to all of it. didn't flinch, didn't judge, didn't try to fix it right away. just asked questions. "what do you think you're looking for?" and "how do you feel in the moment, right before?" and "what happens after?"

you'd left that first session feeling raw.

the second session, you noticed his hands. the way he held the pen, the way his fingers moved when he gestured while talking. you told yourself it didn't mean anything.

by the fourth session, you were thinking about his voice at night.

by the eighth session, you realized you were dressing differently on thursdays.

and then one night, session eleven, maybe twelve, you were fucking some guy you'd met at a party and you weren't thinking about him at all. you were thinking about dr. cameron. about what his hands would feel like instead. about whether he'd be gentle or rough, whether he'd talk to you the way he does in sessions, that calm steady voice asking you questions while he—

you'd came so hard you scared yourself. that was a rarity. you never came.

after that, it was over. every hookup became a placeholder for him. every confession in therapy became a way to see if he'd react, if you could make him break that professional mask even for a second. you started telling him more explicit details. not because you needed to for therapy, but because you wanted to see what he'd do with the information. if he'd really look at you.

you're pretty sure he does. you've caught him sometimes, when you're in the middle of a story, and there's something in his eyes that doesn't really feel like clinical interest.

or maybe you're delusional and maybe this whole thing is just another fixation.

but today feels different.

last weekend you fucked someone in a bar bathroom and the entire time you were imagining it was dr. cameron. you’d said his name so quietly, barely a whisper, but the guy heard it. asked "who's rafe?" and you'd lied, said it was your ex, but the truth sat in your chest like a bag of heavy rocks.

you can't keep doing this. you can't keep coming here every thursday and confessing everything except the one thing that actually matters.

the door to the inner office opens.

dr. cameron steps out, holding a file. he's wearing a light colored button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and you hate that you notice. the way his forearms flex, and how his long fingers grip the file. he sees you and something flickers across his face. surprise, maybe, but it's gone so fast you might have imagined it.

"hey," he says. "you're early."

"yeah." your voice sounds normal. "is that okay?"

"of course. come on in."

you follow him into the office and the familiar space feels different today, even though its all the same. the couch where you always sit with his chair angled toward it. the desk in the corner with his laptop and stacks of files. the lamp that casts everything in warm light. the door closes behind you, and you hear the lock click into place like he always does, for privacy, but today the sound makes your stomach turn.

"how was your week?" he asks, settling into his chair.

you sit on the couch, your usual spot. nothing feels normal. your skin is too tight.

"it was fine," you say. "i mean, not fine. i don't know."

he waits. he's good at that. letting silence stretch until you fill it.

"i hooked up with someone last weekend," you say, and you watch his face for a reaction, but there's nothing. just that calm, attentive expression. "met him at a bar."

"okay," he says. "tell me about it."

so you do. you tell him about meeting the guy, about how easy it was to fall into that classic pattern—drinks, flirting, the bathroom with its flickering fluorescent light and the smell of cheap soap. you tell him about fucking the guy against the sink, your jeans around your ankles, his hands on your hips, and how the entire time you were somewhere else. you were here. in this office. with dr. cameron's hands on you instead.

he's leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, and he's listening the way he always does, but there's something else underneath it. the lamp casts shadows across his face and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers are pressed together.

"and after?" he asks. his voice is steady but there's something underneath it now, something that wasn't there before. "how did you feel after?"

"empty," you say. the word sits between you like a stone. "like always."

"but you did it anyway."

"yeah."

"why?"

you shrug, but the gesture feels wrong, too casual for what you're about to say. "because... because i wanted to feel something? i guess? anything." the words come out uncertain, like you're testing them as you speak.

there's a pause that stretches way too long. it makes you aware of the distant sound of traffic outside muffled by the closed window, the fact that you're alone in this room with him and the door is locked. you can hear your own breathing. his too, if you listen closely enough.

and then you say it.

"i've been thinking about you," your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. "since session six. maybe earlier. i don't know."

session six is definitely a lie. you’d been thinking about him since session two. but there’s no way you could admit something like that. telling him at all was more than enough.

his face changes. it's subtle, just a flash of something raw crossing his features before he can stop it. he looks away, down at his hands where they're pressed together between his knees, and for a moment he's just a man sitting in a chair. not a therapist. not someone in control. just a man who's been caught.

when he looks back at you, his jaw is tight, and whatever argument he'd been having with himself is over. you can see it in his eyes.

"session six," he repeats, and his voice is quieter now, rougher around the edges. "that's... that's a long time."

"yeah."

he's quiet for another moment. you watch him process it, watch the way his chest rises and falls a little faster than it should. his fingers unclasp and he runs one hand through his hair, messing it up in a way you've never seen before.

"why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

"because i thought it would go away," you reply. the confession feels like peeling off skin. "i thought if i just... maybe if i kept coming here, kept talking about it, it would stop. but it didn't. it got worse."

he nods slowly. you can see the conflict playing out on his face, the way his mouth tightens, the way he looks at you and then away and then back again like he can't help himself.

he stands up. the movement is sudden enough that you flinch, and for a second you think he's going to ask you to leave, going to tell you this was a mistake and that you need to find another therapist. but he doesn't. he walks away from you, toward the window, and stands there with his back to you, one hand coming up to grip the back of his neck. you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way they're drawn up tight. the way they rise and fall with his breathing. the office feels smaller suddenly, the walls much closer.

he's pacing now. not frantically or anything, just a few steps back and forth in front of the window, looking at the floor like he's trying to work something out. his hand falls from his neck and he shoves both hands in his pockets, then pulls them out again. you watch him, and you realize this is it. this is the moment where he decides whether to cross the line or send you away.

he stops so abruptly it almost looks like something catches him. his hand falls away from the back of his neck again and when he turns, he doesn't say anything right away. he just looks at you, and there's something in his eyes you've never seen before. something hungry and raw and completely unprofessional.

the way he looks at you... it's not the way a therapist looks at a patient.

"stand up," he says.

you do. your legs feel shaky, unsteady, but you stand anyway. your hands are trembling at your sides.

"come here."

he sits back down in his chair, and the distance between the couch and where he's sitting is barely a few steps, but it feels way longer now. each one gives you another chance to turn around, another chance to pretend none of this happened, to walk out and find a new therapist and never come back. you don't take it.

your shoes are silent on the carpet. you're standing in front of him now, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. close enough to see the way his pupils are dilated, the way his chest is rising and falling faster than normal. there's no trace of the careful distance he'd kept for six months. it's gone completely.

"sit," he says, patting his lap.

"dr. cameron—"

"sit."

you do. you lower yourself onto his lap slowly, your back settling against his chest. his thighs are thick and solid and warm beneath you, the muscle firm under the fabric of his pants. you can feel his cock, already hard, pressing against your ass through the denim of your jeans. the knowledge of it sends heat flooding through you. you want to shift, to grind back against him, but you force yourself to stay still because part of you still can't even believe this is happening.

his hands settle on your thighs. warm and heavy, the weight of them grounding you.

"keep talking," he says, his voice low in your ear. you can feel his breath against your neck, warm and slightly uneven. "tell me about the compulsion."

"i—i don't know what you want me to say."

his hands slide higher, fingers tracing the inside of your thighs through your jeans. the touch is light, almost teasing. "tell me what it feels like. when you're with someone. what are you chasing?"

you can barely think. his fingers are moving in slow circles on your inner thighs and it's making it hard to form words. "i don't know... validation, maybe? proof that i'm wanted."

"and do you get it?"

"no. never."

his fingers pop the button on your jeans. the sound is loud in the quiet office, the snap of metal against fabric. you lift your hips slightly so he can pull the zipper down. the rasp of metal teeth separating sounds almost deafening in the silence.

"why not?" he murmurs, sliding his hand inside your jeans, over your underwear. you're already wet, soaked through the fabric, and you know he can feel it. his fingers press against you through the damp cotton and you gasp, your hips jerking forward involuntarily.

"because... because it's never enough," you whisper. "it's never—fuck—"

he presses against your clit through the fabric and your hips jerk forward again. his other hand comes up to grip your jaw, fingers splaying across your cheek and throat, holding your head back against his shoulder. the grip is firm and feels like a gentle anchor.

"keep talking," he says. "you're doing so good."

"dr. cameron, please—"

"please what?" his thumb catches the edge of your underwear, easing it aside. his fingers find you almost absently, like he's waiting for your answer more than your reaction, but you can hear the wet sound of it when he slides through your folds. "use your words."

you can't answer. your eyes are squeezing shut and it feels like you're hardly breathing. he circles your clit once, twice, and you're already shaking. the jeans are tight around your hips, constricting, and his hand is trapped inside them, the denim pressing his knuckles against you in a way that's almost uncomfortable but also perfect.

his fingers stop circling. they just rest there, warm and still against your clit. the sudden absence of movement makes you whimper, a sound you didn't mean to make.

"the guy from last weekend," he says. not a question. his breath is against your ear, warm and steady. "tell me what he did."

"he—" your voice cracks. you can't think. his fingers are right there but not moving and it's worse than if he'd pulled away completely. the stillness is torture. "i don't—"

"you don't remember?" his fingers slide lower, just barely, teasing your entrance. you can feel the tip of one finger pressing against you, not pushing in, just resting there. "or you don't want to tell me?"

"no, i—he fucked me. in the—" you're breathing too fast. the words won't come out right. your brain can't form complete thoughts with his hand between your legs. "backseat. i was—"

his fingers push inside you. just the tips, just enough that you can feel the stretch, the intrusion. you gasp and lose the sentence completely, your mouth falling open.

"you were what?"

"on top," you manage. "i was on top."

he pushes deeper. not all the way, just enough that you can feel the stretch, the promise of more. his fingers are thick and you can feel every ridge, every knuckle as they slide into you. then he stops again and holds still inside you, buried to the second knuckle.

"did you cum?"

"no."

his fingers don't move and he’s silent for a moment. you can feel your pulse around them, can feel yourself clenching involuntarily, trying to pull him deeper. the stillness is maddening.

"why not?" he asks, and his voice is so calm, so steady, like he's asking about the weather while his fingers are inside you and you're falling apart in his lap.

"because i—" you're shaking. "i never—with them, i can't—"

"can't or don't?"

"both? neither. i don't know." the words come out frustrated, desperate.

his thumb brushes your clit. once. the lightest touch. you jerk against him and he pulls it away immediately, denying you.

"but you want to," he says.

"yes—fuck—yes."

"what do you think about?" his fingers curl inside you slightly, pressing against that spot. not enough pressure. just enough to make you aware of it. "when you're with them. when they're inside you... what's in your head?"

you don't answer. you can't. your breath is coming in short gasps and his hand is still gripping your jaw, holding you in place, and you can feel the heat of him against your back, the solid weight of his chest. the hardness of his cock pressing into you through your jeans, and you wonder if he's as desperate as you are, if this is killing him too.

"answer me," he says, and his fingers push deeper, all the way now, buried inside you to the knuckle. you cry out, the sound echoing in the small office.

"i can't—"

"yes you can." he starts moving them. slow, methodical thrusts that make you see stars. his thumb finds your clit again and circles it once, twice. the dual sensation is overwhelming. "tell me what you think about."

"i—" you're climbing already, way too fast. the pressure building low in your belly, spreading through your thighs. "i think about—"

he stops. completely stops. his fingers buried inside you but motionless, his thumb lifting off your clit.

this broken and desperate sound falls from your mouth, something you'd never even heard before.

"say it," he says.

"you," you gasp. "i... i think about—fuck—i think about you."

"me." his voice is rough now, the professional veneer cracking. "you think about me while some stranger fucks you in a parking lot."

"yes."

"what am i doing?" his fingers move again, just slightly, just enough to remind you they're there. "in your head. what am I doing to you?"

"this," you whisper. "you're—you're doing this."

"yeah?" he pushes deeper, curling his fingers inside you. you can feel every ridge, every knuckle, the stretch of it. his thumb finds your clit and he starts moving in a rhythm that has you climbing fast. too fast. your hips start to move, grinding back against his cock, and you can feel how hard he is, can hear the way his breath catches. his other hand tightens on your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

"stay still," he says.

you try. you're shaking so fucking badly, your thighs trembling. you're right there, right on the edge, the pressure building and building and—

he stops. his fingers stay inside you but they don't move. his thumb lifts off your clit.

"no—please—"

"tell me more," he says. his voice is steady but you can hear the strain in it now. "you think about me. what do i do? in your head?"

you're gasping. you can feel tears starting to form, burning in your eyes. "i can't—"

"yes you can." his fingers move slightly, just a tiny curl, pressing against that spot inside you. "tell me what i do to you. in your fantasies."

"you—you touch me like this," you say, your voice breaking. "you make me—you don't stop. you let me cum."

"do i?" his fingers curl inside you again, harder this time, and you cry out. "what else?"

"you fuck me," you whisper. "you fuck me and you—and you tell me i'm good."

"you are doing good," he says, and his thumb presses against your clit again. you're climbing again, faster this time, the pressure building impossibly fast. "you're being so good for me right now."

"dr. ca—"

"tell me why you chase validation," he continues. meanwhile his fingers are moving inside you, pumping in and out, and you can hear the wet sound of it, obscene in the quiet office. you can feel yourself dripping, soaking his hand, soaking through your jeans. "what are you trying to prove?"

"i don't—i can't think—"

"try."

you have actual tears on your face now, hot and wet and streaming. "that i'm worth something. that someone wants me."

"and do you feel that? with the men you fuck?"

"no—never—please—"

you're right there again. your whole body is tense and shaking and his fingers are moving faster and his thumb is circling your clit and you're so close, so fucking close, the pressure building to an unbearable peak and—

he stops again.

you actually sob, the sound wrenching out of you.

"not yet," he says. "we're not done talking."

"please," you beg. "pleaseplease let me cum. i can't—"

"you can." his voice is firm. "breathe."

you try. the jeans are soaked now, the denim dark with wetness. you can smell it, the smell of sex starting to fill the office, mixing with the scent of his cologne and the faint smell of coffee from earlier.

"why do you think you fixate on people who can't give you what you need?" he asks.

"i don't know."

"yes you do."

"because—because it's safe," you gasp. "because if they can't give it to me then i can't be disappointed."

"and me?" his thumb brushes your clit, so light it's almost nothing. "am i safe?"

"no."

"why not?"

"because you could actually—fuck—you could actually hurt me."

"how?"

you're crying. "because i actually want you. not just—not just the sex. you."

his fingers start moving again. slow, and you're climbing again, faster now. you grind back against his cock and he doesn't stop you this time. you can feel him hard and thick against your ass, can hear the way his breathing has changed, rougher now.

"say it again," he says.

"i want you."

"louder."

"i want you," you say, your voice breaking. "i want you so fucking bad. please- please let me cum. i'm so close. please."

he's building you up again. his thumb on your clit, his fingers inside you, and you're climbing so fast you can't breathe. his other hand is still on your jaw, holding you in place. you can feel his breath against your ear, the slight hitch in it, and you realize he's as affected as you are.

"that's it—" he whispers quietly. "take what you need."

you're right there. right fucking there. the pressure is unbearable and—

his fingers go still.

but this time he doesn't pull away. just... stops. his fingers stay buried inside you, his thumb resting against your clit. completely motionless. completely silent.

the silence is worse. you're right there, right on the edge, and he's not moving and he's not saying anything. you can feel your pulse in your clit, can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more. the stillness is psychological torture. you need it so bad you could honestly cum right then and there without him touching you anymore. your pussy is clenching around nothing, beggining for it. but god, what a waste that would be.

so you wait. five seconds. ten. fifteen. your breath coming in short gasps.

finally, he speaks.

"why do you think you're here?" he asks, and his voice is quiet. "really here. not the answer you gave me in session one. the real answer."

"i don't—"

"yes you do." his fingers curl slightly inside you, just enough to make you gasp, but then he goes still again. "why are you here?"

"because..." you whisper. "because i don't know how to want something without destroying it. because i'm afraid if i let myself actually have something real, i'll ruin it."

"and me?" his thumb presses against your clit, just barely. "what am i?"

"real," you say. you're crying again. "you're real. and i'm terrified."

"good," he says, and his fingers start moving again. slow at first, then faster, harder, and his thumb is circling your clit and you're climbing so fast you can't breathe. "you should be terrified. because i'm not going to let you run from this. i'm not going to let you turn me into another fantasy you can chase and never catch. this is real."

"yes—fuck—yes—"

"knowing you go home and touch yourself and imagine it's me?" his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot, and he doesn't stop this time. his thumb is relentless, circling and pressing and you're climbing higher and higher. "knowing you're so desperate for it you'll fuck anyone just to feel something?"

"oh my... god, please—"

"you don't need them," he says. his fingers are relentless now, pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds loud and sloppy and obscene. "you need someone who knows what you need. someone who's been listening. someone who's been paying attention for six fucking months."

"i—i'm—i'm gonna—"

"then do it," he says. "cum on my fingers. right here in my office. show me what you look like when you finally get what you need."

and you do. you cum so hard you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but feel. it hits you like a wave, starting deep in your core and radiating outward. your body convulses in his lap, every muscle tensing and releasing. your hips grinding back against his cock, and his fingers don't stop moving, drawing it out, prolonging it. the orgasm tears through you in waves, each one crashing over you harder than the last. you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, rhythmic pulses that seem to go on forever. the wetness gushing out of you, soaking his hand, soaking your jeans, probably soaking through to his pants.

you're aware of everything and nothing—the way your thighs are shaking uncontrollably, the way your breath is coming in broken gasps, the way you can hear yourself making sounds you've never made before, desperate and raw. his fingers keep moving, keep curling, keep hitting that spot inside you, and just when you think it's over another wave hits and you're crying out again, your back arching, your head thrown back against his shoulder. it goes on and on, longer than ever before, until you're begging him to stop, until it's too much, until you can't take anymore.

when you finally come down, you're crying. actual tears streaming down your face, your breath coming in gasps. he pulls his fingers out slowly and you whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness. your jeans are soaked, the denim dark and wet, clinging to your thighs.

"shh," he says, wrapping his arms around you. "you're okay. you did so good."

you're trembling. you can still feel his cock hard against your ass and you want to turn around, want to touch him, want to make him feel what you just felt, but you can't move. your body won't cooperate.

"that's what you needed," he says quietly. "someone who knows you. someone who listens."

you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

"next session," he says, and his voice is back to that calm, professional tone, like he didn't just make you come apart in his lap, "we're going to talk about why you keep choosing people who can't give you what you need. i think we made some progress today on identifying the root of the compulsion."

you almost laugh. the absurdity of it.

"okay," you whisper.

"good," he says. "now go clean yourself up. there's a bathroom down the hall."

you stand on shaky legs. your jeans are dark with wetness and you have to button them with trembling fingers. when you look back at him, he's watching you, his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. the sight of it sends another jolt of heat through you.

"same time next week?" he asks.

"yeah," you say. "same time."

you walk out of his office on legs that barely work. in the bathroom, you look at yourself in the mirror. your face is flushed, your eyes red and glassy, your lips swollen. there's a mark on your neck from where his hand gripped your jaw, dark and obvious. you reach up to touch it. the skin is tender, slightly raised. you stare at it for a long moment, and then you notice something else in the mirror's reflection: your therapy appointment card, sticking out of your back pocket. the next date is already written on it in his handwriting. thursday. same time. you pull it out and look at it.

he wrote it before today's session.

you tuck the card back into your pocket. look at yourself in the mirror one more time. the mark on your neck. your flushed face.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who pops by your house almost everyday and with different excuses. "hey, is topper here?" "forgot my keys" "needed to ask your mom somethin'", etc.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who, if you look close at every single family photo you've had together, from seven to now eighteen, he's constantly near you, by a one person distance max, and in the short occassion he's not, you can bet his eyes are on you.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who makes sure that there's food for you whenever you're around him. cookout? he's slipping half of his food onto your plate. dinner? you'll find that you have the most servings.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's only had one girlfriend in the entire nine years you've known him. you remember when you were fourteen, sobbing your eyes out in your bed as top told you the news, only to find that they'd mysteriously broken up a week later.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who tells topper to go easy on you without you knowing. the pair will be hanging out, topper's feet up on the table while rafe scratches his arms.

"dude, she's been pissing me off so much."

"i'm sure you piss her off too."

"nah, not to the -"

"go easy on her."

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's given you flowers every valentine's, a tradition that started when you didn't get one that made you bawl your eyes out when you were much younger but just stuck. you who doesn't know that he gives them because he wants to, not because you think that topper's forcing him too.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's always been the only option for you, he's just waiting patiently for you to see it.

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

You’d leaned against the counter earlier, coffee in hand, pretending not to care while his hand slid along the small of your back, his mouth hovering just above your skin.

But every time you turned, ready for more, he pulled away with that smug little grin and some excuse about “running short on time.”

And now, you’re running short on patience.

He calls out from the doorway, voice deep and impatient. “We’re gonna be late.”

You don’t answer. You’re still in the bedroom, slow and deliberate, pretending to smooth out the wrinkles in your freshly pressed dress—the black one that barely qualifies as formal but that Rafe said fit you like a goddamn glove.

You rest your hands on the mattress, bending over a little in your heels, letting the delicate material stretch across your curves, knowing full well he’s watching.

“Seriously,” he mutters, the sound of his dress shoes shifting closer. “You’ve had all day to get ready, angel.”

You smile to yourself. He sounds composed, but that tiny strain in his voice gives him away—that low pull of irritation that always slips in when he’s about to give in to whatever you want, because it’s you.

You look up from the bed, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror, and you bite your lip to hide your smile. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, tie still loose, his wolf mask tugged low over his handsome face.

His eyes drag down your body, slow and deliberate.

“You’re doing this shit on purpose,” he says, voice low.

“Doing what?” you murmur, pretending to adjust the strap of your lingerie.

He laughs under his breath—amused, turned on, annoyed nonetheless.

He takes a few steps closer until you can feel the warmth of him at your back. His cologne wraps around you, muddling your mind.

“You’ve been on me all day,” he says quietly, leaning in until his mouth grazes your neck. “Every time I touched you, you gave me that look. You think I didn’t notice?”

He exhales through his nose, a sharp little breath that hits the side of your throat as you press back into him.

“Stop,” he whispers.

“Aren’t you supposed to take care of me?”

“You’re pushin’ it, baby—”

“Me?” You ask, because you could say the same damn thing about him.

“Mhmm… you’re taking your sweet time, and the driver’s been downstairs for—” he checks his watch dramatically, “—twenty minutes now. You think this shit’s cute? You think you’re not gonna regret actin’ like this when we got shit to do?”

“Maybe I want to,” you whisper.

He lets out a soft, frustrated sound, half laugh, half growl, dragging a hand through his hair to keep from touching you.

“She wants to regret it,” he mutters, almost to himself, voice dark and low—talking like you’re not even there. But you are. And you’re about to make him feel it.

You can see his reflection—the way his jaw tightens, his blue eyes burning through the narrow holes of his mask like he’s fighting himself back.

“Put on your dress, sweetheart,” he says finally, quiet but certain.

You roll your eyes, turning to face him, your hands instinctively resting on his strong chest, and he looks down at you—tall, tailored, every line of him sharp and expensive.

That all-black suit clings to his big body. The faint gleam of his chain catches the light when he takes a tight breath.

“You know,” he says, taking a step closer, “if you keep pushing, we’re never gonna make it to that gala.”

“I love staying in with you, baby,” you whisper.

The look he gives you is pure wanting—one that says he’s already seconds from giving in.

“Desperate all damn day,” he murmurs, brushing a hand down your arm, barely touching. “When did you turn into such a whore, huh?”

“Trying to keep up with you, Cameron. Kind of a prude today though—”

“Still talkin?” He asks, sending chills straight through you. “Five more seconds and I’m not walking out that door.”

His hand finds your waist, long fingers playing with the lace of your thong. You can feel the restraint in his touch—the way he’s trying not to destroy what you’re wearing, not to rip it to shreds. He’s still pretending to be calm, still pretending he has the upper hand.

“Every time I try to get out that door you pull me back in. This ain’t some round of golf or boys’ night. This is work. This is how I make a living—pay for that shit we love. You’re fuckin’ with me like it doesn’t matter. You like seeing me like this?”

“No, baby.” You tilt your head slightly, whispering as you draw back his mask, tousling his hair, “I love it.”

He lets out a quiet laugh—the sound rumbling under your touch.

“Fuckin’ brat—”

The air between you snaps. His mouth crashes into yours—rough and hungry—giving everything you’ve been waiting for.

One hand cups your jaw, the other gripping your ass. He slides his leg between your thighs, smiling against your lips as you grind shamelessly against the muscle.

“Told you… fucking whore, baby,” he teases, letting a sleazy laugh drip from his lips that only makes you wetter.

“Mhmm…” you hum in agreement. “Says the man who’s letting me make a mess of his Dior slacks when we’re supposed to be downtown…”

“And?”

“Just to get me wetter…”

“So?” He laughs breathily.

“’Cause he loves how it feels when it slides in.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he says, voice rasping low.

“Then show me.”

“Just wish we had the time…”

“If you loved me, you’d make time—”

“The fuck you talkin’ like that for, huh?” He scolds as he turns you fast, bending you over, making your hands grip the bed for balance, your heels firmly planted on the floor.

You arch your back, ass pressed against his cock, somehow finding yourself in Rafe’s favorite position—your hips in his hands, taking you from behind—you fucking him back. If only that were true right now, more than just a filthy thought.

“Goddamn,” he grumbles as his rough hands circle your ass.

“Did you need something? I’m in a rush, apparently.”

“The attitude on you, pretty,” he murmurs, his hand dragging up the middle of your back, the other drawing your hips closer.

“You’re a fucking tease and you know it, Cameron… I’m a little over it.”

He lets out that same chuckle, velvety and low, as his hand weaves through your hair at the nape. “A little?”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh breathily.

Rafe lets out a sigh, his fingers tangling a little tighter through your hair. “I apologize,” he lies, his tone nothing short of condescension.

“It’s okay, truly. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat out in the living room—”

“Excuse me?” He cuts you off, releasing his grip on your hair, looking back at you through the reflection in the mirror, eyes wide.

“I’m gonna take care of myself, m’kay?” You chirp as you flick your slinky black dress off the bed, showing off the black satin bag you had resting on the mattress just in case this very same moment occurred.

He’s fucking predictable.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans, a mix of annoyance and lust.

Turning around, you slink your hand up his thigh, landing on his cock, a rough enough touch for him to suck in a little air. He looks down, eyeing your hand on him. He tilts his head slightly, a devilish smile rolling across his lips.

“Get out, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll be fast,” you whisper, lips brushing over his.

Looping your fingers around the lace, you tug your panties over your hips, watching them fall to your feet, landing on Rafe’s as well—bubble-gum pink lace against his black leather dress shoes.

He reaches for you again as you crawl on the bed, his strong hand instantly tracing up your inner thigh, thumb dragging slowly over your lace-covered slit as you move out of reach.

Rafe clears his throat, trying to regain the upper hand. “Five minutes, baby. Then we're heading out,” he smirks, continuing to fuck with you. He was already going to cave, the second he stepped into the room. You know exactly what he's waiting for—he wants you to beg.

“Sounds good,” you smile as you look over your shoulder again, reaching around your back to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside.

Your breasts bounce as you adjust on your shared bed, finding the perfect position with your sex toy in hand. Rafe smiles widely, casting his gaze away, shaking his head dizzily as you relax into the pillows, drawing your legs up.

“You wouldn't.” His eyes drift to you as you trace the vibrator up your inner thigh.

“I would,” you breathe, flicking it on, pressing the soft tip through your entrance.

Your breath catches as you're met with rotations and vibrations; the toy working its magic on you, enough that you let your lashes fall.

Your hand drifts up your body gradually; fingers, reaching the swell of your breast, tracing your nipple slowly.

Your fingers drift to the other side, playing with yourself shamelessly, pinching your nipple, rolling it softly, a breathy moan falls from your lips.

You can hear his feet, nearing your side of the bed. His presence. His breathing. The heat of his body, so close to yours. “Fuck, Rafe…” You whimper.

“Do you say my name whenever you use your toys, baby?” He drawls.

“Just like that,” you whisper, dismissing the question.

“Answer me,” he breathes.

You turn it up a little higher and the buzzing noise creeps higher too. You work the vibrator in and out as your thighs start to tremble.

He can hear how wet you are; you, no longer frustrated, getting off on the idea of him watching. “Shit,” you sigh as you flick your eyes down, watching the blue shimmery silicone glimmering with your wetness.

He's frustrated, you can see it in his eyes. A battle of stubbornness—wanting you to beg—wanting to cave himself.

Rafe lets out a growl of annoyance, his hand brushes yours. Your eyes flick open watching as he mounts the bed, body hovering over yours. Rafe presses his lips against yours, taking the vibrator off your hands.

You smile against his lips, giggling delightedly. He draws it out quickly, making the air punch out of your chest.

“Rafe! What the fuck?” You cry, breathlessly. He lets out a sinful chuckle against your lips, turning it off. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

You push him off you but he forces you back down on the bed, pressing you into the pillows. “And, you’re stubborn, pretty girl. And now, you're gonna beg.”

You roll your eyes, bringing your free hand up to your lips, running them along your tongue.

“The fuck I will…” You breathe, moving your hand down to your pussy, resuming when you left off, circling your clit with your fingers instead.

Rafe steps off the bed, vibrator in hand, walking toward the door. “Three minutes, baby. Then we're headin’ out.”

“Sounds good,” you sing as he reaches down to snag his mask off the floor. You open the drawer of your nightstand roughly, allowing the knick knacks inside to clatter, making Rafe stop in his tracks.

“Hmm, mhmm,” you hum, drawing out a new red rabbit vibrator, turning it on.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

“You gotta be shittin’ me?” He chuckles tiredly as he turns around slowly, his eyes shifting to yours as you press the toy inside with a sharp gasp.

Rafe walks toward you, watching you carefully as your pleasure begins to build again. Rafe's rough finger meets your arm, tracing softly to your hand.

“Rafe,” you gasp as he takes a rough grip on your wrist, taking you by surprise.

“Drop. It.”

“No.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, making you chuckle.

“A-And…” you stutter as your pleasure builds.

“Why are you like this?” He groans, eyes falling down your body, watching your breasts bounce with each thrust of the toy.

“Why are you surprised?”

He exhales hard, shoulders rising as he drags a hand through his hair, the sound half-growl, half-defeat.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters.

“Good,” you breathe, still moving slow, steady, in control.

“Enough,” he mutters, already taking control, pulling it out, the rabbit hitting the floor with a thud.

His mouth is on yours again, hot and heavy, restraint completely gone. You smile against him, utterly satisfied. “Guess we’re gonna be late,” you whisper. And he sucks off your bottom lip, biting rough enough to punish, leaving you whimpering into his mouth.

Rafe huffs a laugh as he pulls back, pawing his tie the rest of the way loose, hanging long on his neck as you pop open the buttons of his shirt. He grumbles under his breath as he struggles with his belt, shoving his designer slacks down just enough to release his stiff cock.

“Shut the fuck up,” he chuckles darkly, trying to act annoyed but it’s useless.

“Don’t be like that—” Your eyes widen, mouth stuffed full of Rafe’s silk tie before you can get out anything else.

“Just cum, alright? Think you can do that?”

He grabs your thigh, bullying you to the edge of the mattress before shoving his cock deep inside your pussy with a single stroke.

You cry out around the fabric, eyes rolling back in your head as Rafe starts to stroke.

His eyes fall down your body, watching the place where the two of you connect, the slick sounds of your wet cunt mixing with your muffled moans.

Rafe’s eyes pull away from your body reluctantly, falling to the phone on the mattress. The screen glows bright, with an incoming call, making him suck his teeth in frustration.

“Goddamnit, baby,” he grumbles as he answers mid-stroke, pressing the device between his shoulder and ear. “Yeah.” He answers breathlessly and clipped, pressing his thumb against your clit, making you gasp at the extra sensation as he starts to circle at the perfect pace.

You whimper around the tie, so he slaps your clit, making you cry out, the man quickly shushing you like he actually expects you to be quiet.

“Yeah. She split some wine on her dress,” he mumbles as he strokes. “We’re comin’,” he breathes. “Aren’t we?” He mouths as he smirks, feeling you tightening around him, your fists gripping the sheets.

Rafe clicks off the phone and tosses it aside, one big hand wrapping around your throat, the other gripping your hip.

He pounds into you at a punishing pace, knocking your body higher on the mattress with each stroke.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Such a fucking mess for this dick. Why don't you make a mess all over it, hmm?”

He grabs the tie and tugs it out of your mouth as you scream his name, pussy flutters around his thick cock as he fucks you through it, waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You relax around him and he pulls out, looking down at you with his lip tucked between his teeth and his eyes glazed over with pleasure, stroking once—twice. ‘Til he’s spurting cum on your entrance, pressing it deep inside, milking out the last bits of his release with his head thrown back, a lazy smile painted on his pretty lips.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his gold chain with your initial glittering and stuck to his tanned skin. He takes a deep breath and blows it out slow before looking down at you, trying his best not to smile.

“God, baby… Such a fuckin’ brat.”

He decided that having a fucking rager on a Tuesday night in your small apartment complex instead of picking you up from your double shift was a bright idea. You ended up having to get an uber home, which you absolutely couldn’t afford and by the time you made it home your place was trashed and your boyfriend was out front being hauled into a cop car. Apparently when your landlord asked him to shut the party down he got all agro and started screaming and arguing that it was his house and he can be as loud as he wants. And when your landlord didn’t agree? He punched him in the face. So he called the cops and they took him down to the station to cool off. This wasn’t the first time he was asked to break up a party like this, but it was the last. Your landlord evicted him and even though he hardly paid you still couldn’t afford it without even that small amount of help.

He ended up calling his dad from the police station to come bail him out and of course he did. He always does. That’s why Caleb Cameron can’t account for a single goddamn thing in his life, he always has daddy’s money to bail him out. That’s why you are where you are now, staying with his dad, for the foreseeable future. After Mr. Cameron bailed Caleb out, he offered you both a place to stay at his house. His nice house that he built. Which you of course tried to decline.

But after much convincing from both Cameron men, you agreed to move in while you save money to get another place on your own. His dad doesn’t need help with any of the bills but he asked that you and Caleb keep up on the chores and take turns making dinner every night. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and so far you’ve been doing everything. Caleb hasn’t even picked up a single sock off the ground.

Mr. Cameron or “Rafe” as he’s asked you to call him several times now, isn’t bad. He’s been very kind and generous to you since the moment you met him. Which wasn’t until the other day. Caleb never wanted to introduce you to him. You’ve seen him around and of course you know of Rafe Cameron, this island isn’t very big. But from what you can tell their relationship isn’t the best so you’ve never actually had a conversation with him up until now.

He’s been easy to coexist with though. He’s surprisingly low maintenance. Rafe spends most of his day working with the guys on his construction team and then he comes home and showers. If you aren’t working a late shift you always have dinner ready. He comes downstairs in fresh sweats and pops open a beer. Then you, him, and Caleb all eat together. At least you’re supposed to, Caleb was only here the first night you moved in, he’s spent every other night out. Leaving you and his dad to eat dinner together alone.

Tonight is one of those nights. Caleb went out to the bar with his friends, even after you told him you were making his favorite dinner for him. He left before it was even done. Rafe will be home anytime now though. You’ve noticed he’s usually home around five thirty so you have dinner ready and kept warm by five. You made chicken parmesan from scratch and it’s in the oven set to warm while you sit at the shiny marble kitchen island, doom scrolling on your phone. You hear a key in the lock and you hate that ears perk up. The door opens and you hear keys being dropped in a glass bowl before footsteps sound toward the kitchen. It takes him a few seconds to come into view because you also hear him unlacing his work boots, but when he does? You can’t stand that your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

Not only is Rafe generous, successful, cleans up after himself without being asked, he’s always on time and he always asks how your day is. He’s fucking gorgeous. His piercing blue eyes make your skin heat each time they’re on you. His messy mullet seems like he’s been cutting it for years, which there’s just something charming about. Like he could have someone do it for him but he’d rather just do it himself because it’s cheaper and easier. Not that he’s hurting for money. His dad might have cut him off and left him with nothing but once he found out he was having Caleb he refused to be like him. He built his own construction company from the ground up and worked odd jobs to get to that point so his son would never want for anything. His personality just makes him even more frustratingly sexy. It doesn’t help that his thick arms that always seem like they’re going to burst out of his t-shirts are covered in tattoos and his smile, god his smile, it gives you butterflies from your stomach down to your pussy. He always looks particularly edible when he gets off work though.

“Hey, Caleb here?” Rafe walks into the kitchen wearing dirty work jeans and a carhartt coat, his face has a few smudges on it and he really tests your strength when he pulls the jacket off. He’s only wearing a tight white tee that’s just as dirty as the rest of him, his broad chest and thick arms on display. You feel like you’re going to go insane when he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and it causes his shirt to ride up and show a sliver of waist. You finally pull your eyes away from his body to meet his own and he has a brow raised in your direction. God, how long have you been ogling him? Hopefully he didn’t notice. Fuck.

“Oh, uh- no, he went out.” You let out a small sigh and shrug your shoulders trying to play it off like you don’t care. Like you didn’t make his favorite meal because you’ve hardly had any time together recently. Like you didn’t hope you could eat together then snuggle up and watch a movie together, maybe fuck. But apparently whatever party he went to tonight held priority over his own girlfriend.

“Mmm, he seems to go out a lot, huh?” Rafe chuckles and his lips quirk into a small smile but you can see the sadness in his eyes. Caleb is avoiding him and you both know that. But it’s not like him ditching you to go out is a new occurrence. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Kay, dinner is ready whenever you’re done. I waited to eat.” You don’t respond to his question about Caleb, you both know the answer, it doesn’t need to be said. His eyes linger on you for a moment and you don’t miss the way they flash to your thighs in your little sleep shorts momentarily before he turns and exits the room. You hate that just the smallest attention from him has your skin tingling. You’re just lonely, that’s all it is. He’s your boyfriend’s dad, you can’t have a crush on him. It’s just a fleeting attraction. You’re not blind, the man is walking sex. And it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been fucked.

Around twenty minutes later Rafe comes downstairs and grabs his beer like he always does. Then he wanders into the dining room where you have the table set with dinner dished up. There’s an empty plate in front of the chair beside you in case Caleb decides to come home. But you know he won’t. Which makes it all the more hard to not drool over the way his dad is wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top like it isn’t the sluttiest outfit a man could possibly wear.

Rafe could say the same about you though, sitting there in your little pajama shorts and a cropped tank top with a tiny zip up hoodie that you have unzipped halfway so it’s hanging off one of your shoulders. Smiling up at him from his dining room table that has never been set a day in its life up until you moved in with a warm meal prepared for him after a long day. It’s something he’s always wanted, someone to come home to, someone that cooks him meals that aren’t take-out or from the microwave. And he hates how sweet and full of life you are. He hates it because he loves it. You blast music and dance around while you clean. You bring the kind of noise to this house that was otherwise so quiet sometimes he felt like any sound he made bounced off the walls. And you’re so fucking pretty it almost hurts.

Especially because he can never have you. Not only is he old enough to be your father, you’re his son’s girlfriend for fucks sake. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy your presence. Especially if Caleb isn’t going to. He loves his son with all his heart but just in the short time you’ve been here he’s noticed he isn’t very attentive with you. He wishes that didn’t disappoint him and also fill him with something that is tinged with jealousy that he pushes away immediately. He just doesn’t like to see his son taking a woman like you for granted. If he had someone like you? He’d worship at her feet and do anything he could to make her happy. He really needs to find a way to control these thoughts he’s been having about you because it seems like they intensify the more time he spends around you and he can’t let a small attraction that he can tuck away in the back of his mind become anything bigger than that. Not with you. He’s just getting older and more lonely every year and you’re beautiful, easy to talk to, and living in his house, wearing those little tank tops and tight yoga pants. It’s just some minor lust, that’s all.

“I made chicken parm and there’s uh - mashed potatoes and sauteed veggies.” You gesture to the food on his plate as he sits down in the chair across from you.

“Thanks, looks good.” Rafe clears his throat and cuts a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it between his lips with a groan that has you clenching your thighs. “Damn, that’s delicious. This is Caleb’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m sorry he’s not here.” You sigh and look down at your plate, pushing some food around with your fork. Mentioning the lack of your boyfriend’s presence has another wave of disappointment washing over you. You’re starting to wonder why you even get your hopes up anymore.

“You don’t need to apologize for him, he’s a grown man.” Rafe’s expression hardens slightly, he can’t help it. You made Caleb his favorite dinner and he flaked on you? Not only is he disappointed as his father but he also can’t believe any man would take your sweet gestures for granted. He’d die to have someone be this attentive with him. “I’m sorry he isn’t here.”

“Ha! He’s a grown man, you don’t need to apologize for him.” You throw his words back at him with a smirk and it makes him chuckle, the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

“Well, you got me there.” Rafe runs his hand over his head turning sideways under the guise of having to stretch but really he’s hiding the little smile that you keep seeming to bring to his face. Rafe thinks it might be a little too giddy to be coming from your boyfriend’s dad.”For what it’s worth, this is really good, thank you. I appreciate you cooking.”

“Yeah, no problem, just paying my dues.” It’s your turn to pretend to stretch. The words he said were so simple, but to you, they held so much meaning. To be appreciated for something you do, isn’t something you get very often. “I’m - um- I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah it’s really good.” He pokes the veggies on his plate with his fork and gives them a look of disdain that has you hiding a chuckle behind your hand. You’ve noticed he tends to eat around the healthy stuff you serve him. “But I could do without these veggies though.”

“I’ll make a healthy eater out of you, you’ll see.” You give him a playful glare that he returns with a smile he doesn’t bother to hide this time. “It’ll be good for your heart, old man.”

“Wow! I am not that old.” Rafe brings his hand to his chest in mock offense and it sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“Mhm, whatever you say old man. Let me know if you need help getting up the stairs after dinner!” You lean forward on your elbows and laugh and it takes every bit of willpower Rafe has to not linger on the way your tits bounce at your motions.

“You’re funny, I like talking to you.” You hate that the way he says that makes your body heat because you know he doesn’t mean it like that. And you shouldn’t want him to.

You really need to stop relying on Caleb for rides. This is the third time now that he’s forgotten to pick you up from your two AM shifts and you don’t really have many other options. Your coworkers already left you to lock up for the night, your sister isn’t answering her phone and you’ve never been able to rely on your dad for a single thing in your life. You wish you had friends to call. Or money to get your own car. You groan and throw your head back in frustration when your boyfriend’s phone goes to voicemail for the fifth time. You could call an uber but you’re really trying to save money to get out of Rafe’s hair sooner rather than later. Rafe, he would pick you up. But do you even want to call him? He’s definitely asleep, since he gets up at the crack of dawn everyday for work and do you really want to open that door?

The two of you have been getting along really well the last few weeks, settling into coexisting with one another. You honestly spend more time with him than you do your boyfriend at this point but he’s already done so much for you and you aren’t sure if you want to push it. You could sleep here, on the couch in the office and hopefully Caleb will get back to you by morning. But you really want to take a shower. And if you uber it’s really just setting you back on saving so in the long run it’s going to put Rafe out even more anyway. Fuck it. You click on his contact and it only rings twice before he answers.

“Hello?” Rafe’s sleepy voice says your name and you can’t help but wonder if that’s how he’d sound moaning in your ear while he pounds his - you’ve gotta stop. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Rafe.” You take in a shaky breath, god you hate asking people for help. “Um, everything is okay, it’s just - is Caleb home?”

“Is he not with you? I thought he was picking you up tonight.” You hear rustling, like he’s getting up out of bed. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been home since this morning unless he came home when I was at work. Are you okay?”

“No, uh - he’s not with me.” You clear your throat and let out a dry, half hearted, chuckle. “He was supposed to pick me up, he must’ve just gotten caught up, maybe his phone died or something. I can’t get ahold of him could you -”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay inside, keep the doors locked.” You hear his belt clanking as he hurriedly gets dressed on the other side of the line. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Seven minutes later you hear Rafe’s pick-up idling outside and your phone is dinging with a text that he’s here. You aren’t sure how it's possible that he got here so fast, considering his house is in a nice suburb outside figure eight and the bar you work at is on the cut, but you don’t question it. You lock up the bar, walk over to the curb, and hop in Rafe’s truck.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anyone else to call and -” Rafe chuckles but it’s not one of those charming ones you’ve come to know, he seems irritated and now you really wish you would’ve just slept in the bar.

“Don’t, be sorry.” Rafe shakes his head as he puts the truck into gear and pulls off toward his house. “I’m sorry that my son left you hanging like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You wave your hand and try to brush it off with a smile, maybe ease some of the tension. But Rafe’s hands just tighten on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to whiten and he breathes out hard through his nose. Maybe you really fucked up by calling him.

“No. It’s not. It’s unacceptable.” Rafe grits out. He’s trying to not be unreasonably angry but the way he’s watched his son basically neglect you has been grinding his gears more and more everyday. And now he forgets you at one of the sketchiest bars in town in the middle of the night? You were alone, it seems like your coworkers already left. Anyone could have decided to try and break in, what would you have done if he didn’t come?

He hates that it makes him feel animosity toward Caleb, that jealous feeling that’s tinged with possession growing more and more the longer he’s around you. He would never forget you. If it was up to him you wouldn’t work in that bar at all and he’d take care of all your needs and desires. Rafe is old school, he wants a pretty woman to come home to, to cook for him and let him eat her pussy every night before bed. Someone who will keep him in check and make him laugh when it counts. The way the two of you have been living together kind of feels like that, excluding the sex parts. Lines are starting to blur for him and maybe he just really needs to get laid. It’s been over a year now.

“If you ever need a ride, call me. I’ll be there.” You don’t argue, there’s no point. This man is as stubborn as you and if you try and disagree you’ll just go back and forth till one of you caves. And you have a feeling it would be you. His voice holds a finality that just has you nodding in agreement before the two of you fall into comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

Okay, Rafe seriously needs to get laid. He feels like he’s living in a never ending intro to a porno. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been more thankful or if he regrets ever putting that in the ground hot tub out back but he feels like he’s being tortured. It’s mid November so the pool is covered but the hot tub is free game and you’ve definitely been taking advantage of that. He should be glad, it’s the first time it’s getting real use since he built it but the fact that you go in it nearly every day means you’re in a bikini nearly everyday.

You have a few different ones but the one you’re wearing right now while you walk through the kitchen. You have a pink towel that you definitely brought with you from home thrown over your shoulder and the little platform slides you’re wearing are the only other thing on your body. The baby pink straps of the bikini hug your curves perfectly. The little triangles barely cover more than your nipples and he can see that they’re pierced through the thin material. The bottoms are practically a thong, showing off that little angel wing tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back. Hardly something you think that a girl would wear around her boyfriend’s dad, but he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.

Things have been different between the two of you this last week. Caleb went on a ski trip with his friends and didn’t even bother to invite you. It’s not like they’re your friends, anyway. So it’s just been you and Rafe for the last five days. There was a night that the two of you ordered chinese food and you showed him what a “christmas horror movie” is. Which he really enjoyed. He’s not huge on movies but he can’t deny that he loves a good horror movie.

You laughed and joked together. Playfully teased each other over your food orders and ended up just ordering twice as much food. You both sat maybe just a little too close and your arms brushed every once in a while. It was almost like you both got more brave after that, letting glances linger a little longer than necessary. His hand on the small of your back when he passes the kitchen. Flirty banter. And your outfits somehow seem to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.

His cock pulses as he watches you bend over in your little swimsuit to grab a water bottle out of the fridge and he doesn’t advert his gaze fast enough because when you stand up straight and look over your shoulder at him there’s this mischievous little glint in your eyes and a smug smirk painted on your lips. You turn his way and rest your palms on the marble countertop he built himself and it almost makes your tits spill out of what little material is covering them. He’s going to lose it.

“You gonna get in with me yet, old man? Or are you still too boring?” You tilt your head to the side with a bright smile and your voice is so saccharine he feels like he’s gonna get a goddamn toothache. He can’t go in the hot tub with you though, his control is slipping more and more everyday and being that close to you, wet, in that bikini, seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Guess I’m still too boring, little girl.” Your little ongoing inside joke of teasing each other about your ages makes him chuckle because he’s not really old, he’s only forty two. And you’re certainly not a little girl, you’re a sexy young woman. Too sexy. And too sweet and thoughtful. And you’re fucking funny and quirky. And he hates how bad he wants you.

It’s getting harder to chalk it up to lust the more time he spends alone with you. But he still has hope that he’s just lonely and horny because he can’t like you, you’re his son’s girlfriend for god's sake. Even if Caleb doesn’t treat you like you’re even his girlfriend at all. He’s barely seen him the entire time you’ve lived here. He’ll hit up one of his old booty calls tomorrow, it’s saturday and every woman on this island is just dying for a chance with Rafe Cameron. The only problem is he doesn’t like any of them. He doesn’t have to like them as people to get this pent up energy out though.

“Suit yourself, have fun being old and boring.” You shrug and send him a wink. You let your eyes travel from his face down his body before turning on your heel toward the door. He holds in a groan at the sight of your hips swinging, your ass jiggling in that tiny material. He was already half hard but that sent him over the edge. He needs to take a cold fucking shower.

Rafe runs his hands through his hair, letting the cool water cascade down his back. He lets out an exasperated sigh because truly this isn’t doing shit. He’s fucking cold, still hard, and he can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he did go in the hot tub with you. Was it just a friendly invitation because he built it and you think he needs to relax more? You definitely think that, but the look you gave him said there was more to it than that. The look in your eyes always does. Like you’re saying something to him without saying it and he’s pretty sure he looks at you the same way. It can never be more than just teasing, more than walking that line. You’re off limits and he knows that. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you and what nobody but him knows can’t hurt, right?

Rafe lets his mind wander. He imagines what it would be like if he took you up on your offer. He’d get in with you and sit as far away from you as you could. You’d probably talk because even though Rafe isn’t a big talker, it seems to come easy with you. He thinks about the way the water would make your tits float in that little top and how little tendrils of your hair would fall free from that clip you have in and stick to your skin. He can see that little cheshire smirk you always give him and that mischievous look in your eyes is just straight up naughty now as his mind has you inching closer to him by the second.

You’d press yourself against him, your beautiful tits that he knows are probably so soft pressed up against his arm as you look at him with pouty lips and tell him how bad you want him. He’d grab your hips and pull you into his lap to straddle him and wandering hands would turn into heated kisses while you grind down on his cock. He would finally take that top off and get to see your tits, grab them, suck them.

Rafe grabs his throbbing cock and squeezes the base before pumping it in his hand. He groans in his chest as his head falls and his fantasy continues. In his mind his hand travels between your legs and pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, rubbing your clit a few times before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep in your wet pussy. You’d let out the prettiest moans while he pushes you to the edge with his fingers. And then you’d beg for his cock and he’d fuckig give it to you. The pace of his hand on his cock picks up and his breaths grow shallow as he imagines his hand is you, sliding his dick into your wet heat while you moan his name. You start to ride him and Rafe feels his stomach tighten. The imaginary you’s tits bounce beautifully in his face and it has his cock throbbing in his hand as he spills cum down his wrist.

He pants, the you filled haze he was in starting to fade as he comes down from his high. He turns and washes himself while he tries to shake the regret setting in. He really needs to get you out of his system.

You sigh as you use a damp towel to wipe down the bar, going through the motions of your closing duties. Caleb got home from his ski trip today and you wish you were more excited. You haven’t seen him yet since he got back while you were at work but he’s supposed to pick you up tonight. You told your sister you might need a ride, just in case. You hate that you feel like you can’t rely on him anymore. It wasn’t always like this, he used to be attentive and loving toward you, you used to be best friends. As time went on though, he got comfortable and lazy until it got to this point. You used to get butterflies and count down the seconds until you saw your boyfriend again and right now your stomach just feels like it’s filled with a pit of snakes.

He left you for an entire week, without even so much as an invitation because “he figured you wouldn’t want to go”. He left you the entire week alone in the house with his dad and if you and Rafe didn’t get along so well that would’ve been incredibly awkward. God, Rafe. You hate that the snakes in your stomach start to morph into butterflies at the thought of him. But the instant guilt that washes over you has another round of snakes swallowing the fluttering bugs whole.

These thoughts and feelings you’ve been having toward Rafe have only increased more and more over the last week. You’ve had fun with him. He’s easy to be around and surprisingly funny. You’ve grown comfortable around him and adjusted easily to living in the same space as him. Maybe a little too comfortable. You made yourself cum to the thought of him twice in a row last night. It was the first time you gave in and let your mind wander there but you haven’t cum as hard as you did in a long time. He’s just so fucking sexy and there for you. You’re just lonely, that’s all. At least that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.

Despite your lack of faith in him, Caleb did end up picking you up from work and he even stopped at your favorite dinner for late night fries and milkshakes like you used to. You laughed together and you remembered how hot he was. His wavy blonde hair, his soft green eyes and charming, boyish smile. It’s almost like you forgot what he looks like from how little you’ve been around him lately. Everything felt better than it has in a while. Not great, but good. You had hope that maybe you and him could get back to normal up until he had you on your back with your legs spread.

Caleb isn’t bad in bed, he’s not the best ever but he’s always satisfied you. He doesn’t go down on you as much as you’d like and no matter how much you ask he won’t be rough with you but the sex isn’t bad. Tonight though? No matter what you did you couldn’t get out of your head. You usually love the way Caleb shoves his face in your neck and moans in your ear but something about it just felt like he was trying to avoid looking at you and the weight of his body as he thrusted deep into you almost felt suffocating. You were wet, you wanted to cum, but your brain wouldn’t let you. That was until Rafe’s face flashed into your mind and no matter how hard you tried to push him out it was like he barricaded himself there. You imagined it was him on top of you instead and it’s embarrassing how fast you came after that. Caleb wasn’t far behind you, spilling into the condom before pulling out of you and rolling over on his back. That was another thing, you were on birth control and no matter how much you begged him to cum inside you he wouldn’t. He said “it wasn’t worth the risk.” He fell asleep shortly after that and even though it was almost four in the morning you couldn’t shut your mind off. So you get out of bed and wander downstairs to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you round the kitchen corner to see Rafe sitting at the island. Your hands fly up to cover your chest on instinct because all you’re wearing is a tiny silk nightie. You didn’t expect him to be up. God, did he hear you?

“Rafe! Hi! You scared the shit out of me.” You let out a breathy laugh and try to act normal. Your hands find the hem of your nightgown and tug, willing it to cover more of your ass. But that only pulls it further down your tits and the way Rafe is looking at you right now is making you want to melt into the ground. He’s never looked at you so hungrily but he also looks kind of pissed off. “I didn’t expect you to be up, sorry!”

“Huh, well, I couldn’t sleep.” Any hope that he didn’t hear you diminishes in that moment. “If you’re going to get railed under my roof at three in the morning the least you can do is try and be quiet.”

“I-” Your entire body warms and your words get caught in your throat. He really just went right out with it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen like a normal person? “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Rafe chuckles almost condescendingly. “I have to be up for work in an hour and I’ve spent the last forty five minutes listening to your fake moans until you finally came.”

“Mr. Cameron.” You gasp at the brashness of his words. Why does he sound like a jealous boyfriend and not someone who’s angry at a loss of sleep? “I don’t think that’s really appropriate… I’m sorry if we woke you up but-”

“No.” Rafe’s tone makes your body tingle with anxiety and something else you try not to dwell on as you watch him push himself up from his seat and round the kitchen island in a few strides. He stops only inches in front of you, his large frame looming over you. It’s only now you realize he’s in nothing but a pair of black, low to the hips sweatpants and it’s blindingly apparent that he isn’t wearing any underwear. “You know what’s inappropriate? Moaning so loud your boyfriend’s dad can hear you from down the hall… Or is that what you wanted?”

He drops his voice to a low whisper at the last part and you’re completely stunned by his words. Especially because he’s not wrong. A small part of you hoped he’d hear you. You didn’t expect this reaction though. Your words are caught in your throat for a minute too long and you know the way you’re looking up at him with your thighs clenched and your eyes blown wide gives you away. And when he smirks down at you, you know you’re caught.

“It is, isn’t it?” Rafe leans down further into your personal space, his plush lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Naughty girl.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest and you’re at a complete loss for words. You’re starting to think you fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Rafe pulls back, his eyes feel like they’re setting your skin on fire as he looks down at you like he wants to bend you over this counter right now. But, he doesn’t. His large hand grazes your shoulder as he reaches out to push your hair back and after giving you a final once over from head to toe he takes a few backwards steps before turning on his heel and going up the stairs. What the fuck just happened?

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You can’t believe Rafe is here and with Hollis Robinson, of all people. Her being here isn’t irregular, she comes in here every week to hang all over the different blue collar men. You guess she’s just trying to go for something the opposite of her last husband, midlife crisis and all that. But why does she have to be here with him. There’s no way he didn’t agree to come here just to piss you off. At first you weren’t sure if he just had a naturally flirty nature and maybe you were just thinking too much into it because like you’ve been beating into your own head you’re just lonely. But after last night in the kitchen? And now this? You’re starting to think there’s more to it.

Especially since you want to walk over there and claw Hollis’ eyes out of her skull for how she’s looking at him. And the way he keeps looking over at you over her shoulder with a smug fucking grin painted on his face says a lot. This is payback for last night and if he wants to play that game? You’ll bite. You pull your tiny black tank top even further down, revealing the top of your red bra and you pull up your low rise jeans up slightly more on your hips so they hug your ass. You make sure your tattoo is still on display though, you’ve noticed him looking at it.

“Can I get you guys a refill?” You lean down and rest your palms on the table with a wide smile on your face and you can’t help but press your elbows together to show off your tits even more. The charming smile Rafe was throwing Hollis’ way falls the minute he lays eyes on you. He came here in hopes of riling you up and gauging your reaction to see if this was all in his head but now he’s the one feeling like clawing someone’s eyes out.

He’s picked you up a few times but he’s never come inside the bar and he can’t believe that this is where you work. It’s not particularly dirty but it’s definitely a dive bar, the kind of place guys like him and bikers on the road stop for a beer. If he was the kind of guy that went to bars, that is. But what’s really getting to him is how every set of male eyes in the building follow you wherever you go. They’re like bees to honey to the way you walk around with that sweet smile, swinging your hips. He wants to wrap his coat around you and haul you out over his shoulder so no other man can see you. But you aren’t his, so he needs to play it cool.

“Sure, honey. Another martini, dry.” Hollis barely spares you a glance and wave of her fingers before going back to drooling over Rafe.

She’s sitting in the chair next to him but she has it pulled so close she might as well be in his fucking lap. Her heel clad foot swings back and forth, hitting his calf every few passes and you want to break it off. She rests her chin on her folded hands as she gazes over at him with the biggest fuck me eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

“And a Coors Light for you, right? In the can.” You let your eyes flash from Rafe’s to his lips for just a split moment before locking eyes with him again. You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and then pull it between your teeth and Rafe has to literally stop himself from groaning at the sight. Hollis hasn’t solicited a single reaction out of his body the entire night, but every time he looks at you his cock gets just a little bit harder. His plan is completely backfiring on him.

“Yeah, thanks, angel.” The nickname catches you both off guard. It makes his eyes blow wide as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. He’s been holding that back for some time now but it’s true, you are an angel. Your bright eyes, the way you care for him and that little tattoo. A naughty little angel with horns, that is. And even though your insides are melting, you paint on a smug smirk, not backing down from this fight.

“You got it, babe.” You throw him a wink, just catching the way his eyes widen slightly before flicking your hair over your shoulder and turning on your heel toward the bar. You make sure to swing your hips extra because you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you. You love knowing you’re getting to him, maybe not as much as he does to you. But you’re getting a reaction and that fills you with pride you shouldn’t feel.

You make Hollis’ martini without hardly even looking, most drinks have become second nature to you after working here for three years. You peak over at Rafe after grabbing his beer and you immediately see red. Hollis has her leg thrown over his lap while she presses her tits against his big arm that you want to latch onto with your teeth and never let go. Rafe looks half interested in what she’s saying, at least. Especially when he looks over at you and fucking smirks. Yeah, you’re gonna ruin his fucking night. What if he plans on bringing her home? You don’t think you can stand to hear him fucking her from down the hall. Even the thought makes you want to puke and you wonder if that’s how he felt the other night.

That might be wishful thinking though. You paint on your sweetest smile and walk back over to their table, placing their drinks on the table. You make sure to lean over Rafe close enough that your tits graze his other arm. A silent display of possession that nobody but Rafe notices.

“Here’s your drinks, enjoy!” You turn like you’re going to walk away before quickly turning back around. “Actually, I meant to ask, how long will you be here? I kind of need a ride home.”

“He’s busy, I’m sure you can find someone else to take you ho-” Hollis tries to shoo you away but Rafe cuts her off, pushing his chair back enough that her leg falls from his lap.

“When are you off?” Hollis scoffs and detaches herself from him, sitting back in her seat. Thank god. You can’t help the small smirk you send her way.

“In an hour, I’m not closing tonight.” Your eyes lock with Rafe’s crystal blue ones and you can tell he knows what you’re doing. Yet you don’t care. And he’s still letting you do it, so. “If you don’t mind hanging around until then.”

“Actually, I was thinking about heading out soon.” Hollis shoots you a look before resting her red manicured hand on Rafe’s bicep as she looks over at him almost desperately. Pathetic. “You wanna come to my place? Have a glass of wine, get cozy?”

“I would, but I think it’s best I make sure she gets home safe.” Rafe barely spares her a glance while he shuts her down and she visibly deflates. You would feel bad if you didn’t want to rip each one of her thickly mascara lined eyelashes out of her head.

“Aww, really?” Hollis pouts as she tips her head to the side to try and get Rafe to look at her but he doesn’t. His eyes stay on you. “I think we will have a good time, I’m sure she can find another ride, can’t you?” She looks at you like you’re going to be her wingman and take one for the team or something. Too bad you don’t feel like sharing. Even if he isn’t yours and probably never will be. He’s not going to rub it in your face at your place of work.

“Actually, my ride fell through.” You cross your arms to push your tits up and set your lips into a pout. Rafe feels like he’s going to fucking lose it any second. You never ask him for help, so he knows you're jealous and it’s making his cock uncomfortably hard. “I can probably swing an uber if you’re busy though.”

“No. I’m taking you home with me.” With him. You like the sound of that. “Go do your stuff. I’ll wait.”

“I know what you were doing in there, I’ve been around the block a few times, little girl.” Rafe grits at you as pulls out of the bar parking lot. He waited for you to get off. Hollis left before he did, not without asking him to go home with her again, of course.

“And I know what you were doing in there, old man. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m oblivious.” You roll your eyes and put your doc’s up on his dash. It makes him groan as he reaches over to knock them back down. “Umm, rude.”

“I’m rude? And ruining my date isn’t?” Rafe scoffs.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You didn’t want to be on that date and we both fucking know it, Rafe.” You roll your eyes and shake your head and Rafe really wishes he wasn’t driving right now so he could finally spank that attitude out of you. He has half a mind to pull over but he has to keep reminding himself you’re not his. “You would have never gone there if I didn’t work there, don’t act like that wasn’t why. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to see my reaction.”

“She asked to go there, you’re just overthinking it.” Rafe shakes his head as he turns onto the main road toward his neighborhood.

“No. If I was overthinking it, you would’ve left with her and not me. Don’t try to make me feel like I’m making shit up in my head, you were blindingly obvious about it.” His big hands tighten on the steering wheel causing the veins to pop out. You want to slobber all over them and feel them inside you. “You were trying to make me jealous and it worked, so what now?”

“Now? Nothing.” Rafe chuckles dryly and you can see his jaw tense. “We go home, you go to bed and I’ll do the same. Nothing can happen and you know that.”

“But you aren’t saying you don’t want it to.” You press the issue, you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“God damn it.” Rafe breathes out through his nose and says your name sternly. “Stop. Just stop. This can’t be a thing. No more of this shit that happened tonight. We go back to coexisting the way we should and if I want to go on dates you’re just going to have to get over that because you are my son’s fucking girlfriend, jesus.”

“Yeah, whatever, tell yourself that all you want.” You lean back in your seat with your arms crossed, turning away from him to look out the window. “You know it’s more than that but go ahead and keep lying to yourself.”

“It’s what I have to do, okay?!” Rafe snaps and slams his hand on the steering wheel before regaining his control. He runs his hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. He isn’t the guy that loses his temper at the drop of a hat anymore but you’re so god damn frustrating it makes him feel like he’s going insane. “Now please, just let it go.”

“Fine. But I know you feel this thing between us.” You laugh dryly, your throat feeling tight from rejection even if you know you’re right. “But I’ll drop it and let you live in your little land of denial.”

“Thank you.” Rafe sighs and you both fall silent for the remainder of the drive, only the sound of the local rock station playing quietly in the background.

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You curse under your breath as you toss your keys down on the table by the door and rip your coat from your body. All the other times Caleb has forgotten to pick you up were just mildly annoying in comparison to this. Considering it’s your fucking birthday. You don’t think he even remembers. He didn’t say anything to you this morning before you left for your day shift and he hasn’t texted you all day. He did say he would pick you when you managed to momentarily wake him up though. You hoped maybe he had a surprise planned for you when you got off but you aren’t even sure why you let the thought cross your mind. It feels like he doesn’t even care about you anymore.

As much as Rafe wants to deny that there’s something between you, he gives you more attention than your own boyfriend. Caleb was out all night, so, was he passed out hungover this morning. But when you went downstairs there were doughnuts and coffee from your favorite bakery sitting on the kitchen counter. There was a pink balloon tied to the coffee and a little note in front of it that read “Happy Birthday, angel. -R.C.”

Rafe was already gone for work when you woke up so you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. You hate that you’re more excited for him to be home than you are to see Caleb. You know he’s here somewhere because his car is out front, you assume he’s upstairs gaming with his headset on and his phone on silent. Or he’s asleep. You sigh deeply as you walk over to the box of doughnuts still sitting on the counter and pull one from the box. You take a bite before looking out the kitchen window and when you do you nearly choke.

Caleb isn’t gaming, and he’s not asleep. But he is out back in the hot tub with his “friend” Jessica. Ass naked. Fucking her from behind with her top half bent over the ledge. You feel like you’re going to be sick as you watch her mouth fall open in pleasure. Caleb pulls her hair, yanking her head back before you watch him land a smack on her ass as he fucks her roughly from behind. He’s never fucked you like that. It was always so vanilla and lackluster. Watching him fuck her like you’ve asked him to fuck you a thousand times is like a knife to your heart. Tears prickle the rims of your eyes But you don’t want to cry because you’re sad, no, you’re fucking pissed. You slam your hand down on the counter in frustration, crushing the glazed treat you’re still holding against the marble. You take a deep breath, readying yourself, and then you walk out the back door.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking rich.” You chuckle dryly as you walk across the back patio to the hot tub and Caleb and Jessica’s eyes flash toward you, their movements halting. “You know, you’ve gotten me some pretty shit presents over the years, Caleb. But being so balls deep in some other bitch that you forget my birthday entirely really takes the fucking cake.”

“Babe!” Caleb backs away from Jessica with his eyes blown wide, pulling out of her and leaving her to stand there trying to cover herself. “It’s not -”

“It’s not what it looks like, really Caleb?” You scoff and you can’t even help but laugh. “You’re a fucking idiot. There’s no talking your way out of being a cheating fucking whore when I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Hey! Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t -” Jessica’s voice is strained and nervous as she pulls herself from the hot tub and reaches for her clothes that are discarded on the ground.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You know exactly what you did. Everyone in your little friend group knows me and Caleb are together. Don’t disrespect me by lying to my face.”

You take a few hurried steps towards her and she flinches, making a smirk spread across your lips. Good. She should be scared. She’s lucky Caleb isn’t worth an assault charge. You send your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend a glare. “How long?”

“Since the ski trip…” His head hangs low between his shoulders and you can’t believe he has the audacity to be pouting right now. But he’s always been selfish.

“Oh? So this has been going on for weeks? And I bet all your little friends knew, huh?” Caleb opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off. “Were you all just sitting around laughing, knowing I was oblivious? You disgust me.”

“Babe -”

“I’m not your fucking babe! Shut up! I’m tired of hearing your god damn voice, Caleb!” You shriek and stomp your foot in frustration.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on out here?” The sound of Rafe’s voice sends an icy hot chill all through your body. God, how much of that did he see?

“Dad, don’t worry about it. Just go inside, this is none of your business.” Rafe loves his son with all his heart and even if Caleb doesn’t realize it, everything he’s done in his life has been for him. But right now? He has never been more disappointed in his entire life.

Rafe didn’t see everything but he got home around the time you were calling Caleb a cheating whore. That combined with the fact that there was a random girl scrambling to put her clothes on while his son stands naked in the hot tub doesn’t make it hard to tell what is happening.

“There’s yelling going on in my house, I think that’s my business.” Rafe is almost at a loss for words. He feels frozen. He would never abandon Caleb but the fact that he did this to you fills him with rage. The fact that he took you for granted was one thing, but cheating on you? It makes his blood boil. If it were anyone else they’d be getting their ass beat right now.

“I think I’m just going to go.” All three of their heads whip towards you at your words. Rafe looks distressed, Jessica looks guilty as hell and Caleb has a mixture of both painted on his face.

“No, you stay. I’ll feel like shit knowing you’re sleeping on your sister's couch when you’ve been pulling my weight around here anyways.” Caleb pulls himself out of the hot tub and pulls his swim trunks on before walking toward you. It makes you take a step back.

“You can stay with me, if you need.” Jessica squeaks out and it makes you belly laugh. You really are such a fucking joke.

“You don’t have to leave, either of you. We can work something out.” Rafe looks over at his son, so fucking disappointed in him but he doesn’t love him any less and he doesn’t want him to leave. But he really doesn’t want you to leave either, he’s really come to love you. Well, he loves having you around. He doesn’t love you, he can’t. But god the longer he’s around you he wants to love you so badly. Especially right now, he can see you shaking from here. He can see the angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes and he hates it. He wants to grab you, pull you into his chest, and protect you from the world.

“I won’t force her to be around me after this, dad.” Caleb sighs as he pinches his nose before locking eyes with you. “Just stay here, okay? I want you to stay where you have space. You seem happier here. I’m going to go get some stuff to get me through a couple days and I’ll come back for the rest later on. Come on Jessica, we’re leaving.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry I never meant for you to find out like this.” Jessica sends you an apologetic look.

“Ha! I don’t give a fuck about your apology, bitch. Get out of my sight before I beat your ass.” You take a threatening step toward her and she hurriedly runs toward the back door with Caleb in tow. He sends you another sad glance before walking inside, leaving you alone with Rafe.

“God, what the fuck just happened!?” You let out an aggressive deep breath as you flop down on one of the patio chairs. You groan and throw your head back, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The sound of Rafe’s voice inches from you makes you jump as your eyes shoot toward him. He’s crouching in front of the chair with a concerned look on his face and god, you want to jump into his lap and have him hold you so badly. Even when Caleb literally cheats on you, you can’t get these thoughts of Rafe out of your head. If anything they’re just increasing by the second.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should go check on Caleb, tell him he doesn’t have to go.” You clear your throat to stop the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Once I calm down a bit I’ll go get my shit together and get out of your hair.”

“No.” Rafe’s voice is stern but not angry and your entire body heats when he rests his big hands on your knees so you’ll look at him. “I don’t want you to leave. I love my son so damn much but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in him right now. I’ll never force him to leave but if he wants to go, I think maybe it’s for the best right now.”

“Yeah, but even if he leaves there’s no reason for me to be here if he and I aren’t together, Rafe.” You sniffle, wiping your nose and under your eyes with your hoodie sleeve. You refuse to let him see you cry.

“There is a reason, doll.” Rafe squeezes your knees slightly in a comforting manner as he looks up at you so sincerely you could almost melt. “I want you here. I like having you here. Not just because you help out around the house or because you make delicious food. I like you, I like your presence and being around you. I don’t like to talk much, I can’t stand small talk, but it comes easy with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Rafe. You have no obligation to me, I can’t just freeload off of you.” You sigh and Rafe can’t help it, he glances toward the house to see if Caleb is looking but the blinds are closed so he leans up on his knees and takes your face in his hands.

“I know I’m not fuckin’ obligated but I want to help you. I want you here, please?” Rafe’s voice breaks at the end and he hates that he sounds so desperate. But that desperation tells you all you need to know. He’s saying it without saying it. Rafe wants you. And now that Caleb gave you the ultimate fuck you, what’s really holding you back from having him aside from your own moral compass? He’s still Caleb’s dad. On the other hand though? Fuck Caleb and his feelings.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Your voice is small and you swallow deeply as Rafe continues to hold your face in his big, calloused hands.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe grins at you and places a kiss on your forehead and for a second you forget who Caleb even is. He’s never touched you this much and now you never want him to stop. You want to feel his lips and hands on every inch of your body. “Sit tight, okay? I’m gonna go make sure Caleb is okay and see if he needs any help.”

You sigh and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, kissing the tops of the trees as the cold midwinter wind whips through your hair. You’d probably be freezing in your little work outfit if you weren’t so filled with adrenaline. Are you really gonna stay here with Caleb’s dad? Especially when you know how badly you want him? You know the answer is yes, against your better judgement. You’ve tried to push your feelings down, tell yourself they were based on loneliness and circumstance. But the fact that you just watched Caleb cheat on you and you were more sad about the fact that you’ll have to move away from Rafe is very telling.

You want Rafe. You want his kind gestures. You want the banter you have when you order take ou and watch cheesy horror movies on nights you were left alone. You want the way his lips look extra plush and the way his mullet looks all messy when he first wakes up. You want the possessiveness and the protectiveness. You want to jump his bones when he gets home in his work clothes all covered in mud. You want to eat dinner and shower together and fuck before bed. You want him to fuck you on every inch of this house actually. You want him so bad you can’t even deny it anymore. You want him so bad it almost hurts.

You let yourself sit with that information until you hear the front door shut and Caleb’s car pull out of the driveway. You’re finally starting to get cold so you take a deep breath and push yourself up from the chair to face the music.

As you approach the back door you realize the lights in the kitchen are off, which is odd for this time of day. Did Rafe go to bed to avoid having to interact with you? You wouldn’t blame him, part of you wants the same. You just want to sink in bed and sleep for a week. But when you open the door your hand flies to your mouth with a gasp.

The room is illuminated by candles that are lit on top of the prettiest cake. It’s shaped like a heart with pink and white frosting and your name is in the middle of it, written in pretty, frosted cursive. If that wasn’t enough there’s a little box with a bow sitting next to it and the greatest present of all is the man standing behind them. Rafe still has his navy work shirt with the logo for his company on and he has this lopsided, boyish smile painted on his face that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. This man is a dream.

“Rafe, I- you did this for me?” Your words nearly get caught in your throat and tears prickle your eyes for an entirely different reason than they have all night. “No one has ever… No one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Rafe smiles at you sweetly as he scratches the side of his neck before running his hands through his hair. “Don’t go getting all teary eyed on me before you even open your gift, angel.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” Your voice is barely a whisper and you hardly trust it as you approach the counter and pick up the little box. At first glance you’d think it was jewelry but when you pull off the bow and open it up there’s a keyfob inside. “What is? Rafe, you did not buy me a car!”

“No, yeah, I did.” Rafe chuckles and comes around the other side of the counter to stand no more than a foot away from you. “You deserve it.”

“Rafe, I can’t accept this. You have to take it back.” You push the box toward him but he just stops your hand, pushing it back toward your chest.

“Well, I’m not taking it back. So if you don’t drive it, it’s just going to sit in the garage collecting dust.” He splays his hand across your chest, holding the key and your hand in his larger one as he looks down at you almost lovingly. It fills your heart with hope you’ve been refusing to let in. Rafe tucks your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your temple. “Let me do this for you.”

You can’t help it, you throw yourself into his arms with a squeal and he catches you easily with an arm around your waist. You’re tired of denying yourself his touch, it is your birthday, after all. Rafe chuckles and squeezes you to his chest before setting you on your feet in front of the cake.

“Make a wish, birthday girl.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his chin against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you know exactly what you’re going to wish for. More of this. More of him. For as long as he will have you. You lean forward and blow out the candles before letting your body rest against Rafe’s with your head tilted back so you can look up at him. “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, it won’t come true.” You giggle and spin around in his arms and he takes your face in his hands. Rafe thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and he can’t pretend he doesn’t anymore. He needs you. He wants to kiss you so bad and you surprise the hell out of him by throwing your arms around his shoulders and smashing your lips against his own.

The kiss starts off tender, almost nervous. But it quickly turns heated when his big hands grip onto your waist and pull you flush against him. He groans against your mouth and you use it as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and tangle it with his. You stand there making out, your hands wandering any part of each other they can reach. Rafe’s hands slip lower and slide just under the bottom hem of your skirt, grazing your ass. You

bite down on his bottom lip and Rafe pulls back to look down at you.

“Fuck, we really shouldn’t…” Rafe breathes out through his nose and bites his lip, his actions contradicting his words because his hands travel higher up your skirt and grip onto your ass possessively.

“Do you care?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you grind your stomach against his rock hard cock and scratch the back of his neck with your pointed nails.

“Fuck, not anymore.” Rafe loops his arms around your thighs and you jump up so he can carry you to the couch. He tosses you over the arm and gets on the couch behind you with his legs bracketing yours. He leans over your body so his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “The first time I fuck you is gonna be in my bed but I’ve been waiting so long to spank that bratty ass and eat that sweet little pussy I need to do it right fucking here.”

Rafe leans back and pushes your little Jean mini skirt up over your ass to reveal the tiniest little pink thong he’s ever seen. He lands a harsh smack on your ass and it causes you to yelp and jolt forward. He gives the other the cheek the same treatment before bringing his hands down on both at once.

“So fucking perfect. Knew you would be, baby.” Rafe runs his fingers over your slit through the lace of your panties, feeling your sticky wetness. “And so fucking wet.”

He gathers some on his fingers before pulling away and marveling at the way it glistens in the low light. He hooks his arm around your neck and holds his fingers to your lips. “Suck.”

You take them into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting yourself mixed with Rafe’s salty sweat. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does but it makes you hum around his fingers as your eyes roll back.

“Been thinkin’ bout this all day, everyday, since you moved into this house, angel. You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?” Rafe shoves his fingers down your throat causing you to gag as drool pools into your mouth before he pulls them out and spanks your ass with his wet hand, causing it to sting extra.

“Yes, daddy. Everyday. Want you so bad.” You arch your back and wiggle your ass and Rafe feels like he’s going to bust in his pants like a thirteen year old boy.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think you know what you just did.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs onto your thong and pulls it down to your knees, locking them in place. “You want me to be your daddy? Alright. But that means I get to beat this little ass red for the way you’ve been teasing me.”

“Yeah?” You glance over your shoulder at him with that mischievous look you always flash him in your eyes and a naughty little smirk painted on your lips. “Do you fucking worst, daddy.”

Rafe gives you that lopsided grin that makes your stomach do flips before spanking your ass hard. The skin immediately turns red and you don’t have time to process before he spanks you in the same exact spot even harder. He gives the other cheek the same treatment and then rotates back.

“That’s my good little girl.” Rafe rubs your reddened ass and then spanks you again and again. “Not such a brat now, huh? Just needed that attitude beat out of you?”

“I don’t know, I think you might have to fuck it out of me.” You giggle and wiggle your sore ass which only earns you another round of spankings, leaving you a moaning mess. He leans down and bites down hard on your asscheek as two fingers slide through your dripping folds.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna give you the best dick of your fucking life. But first, I’ve gotta taste this god damn pussy.” Rafe admires the growing bruises and the bite mark on your plump ass before grabbing your cheeks and spreading you open so he can run his tongue along your slit to your pulsing clit.

He swirls his tongue around it a few times before sliding it back down and thrusting it into your hole. Rafe flicks his tongue inside you and hooks his arm around your thigh so you can’t wiggle away.

“Oh, fuck! God, yes, daddy.” You whine and grind back into his face and when his thumb finds your clit you’re embarrassingly close. Your body subconsciously tries to run away from the mind blowing pleasure but Rafe only brings his free hand to the small of your back and uses it to pin your upper half down.

“Quit wiggling and let me devour this pussy, brat. Be a good girl and stay still for daddy, yeah?” Rafe mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations sending your eyes to the back of your skull. “Need you to cum for me, baby.”

Rafe unhooks his arm from your leg so he can thrust two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy while his lips latch onto your clit. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and rolls his lips around your aching bud and that’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. Pleasure wracks your entire body as you shake beneath him. He sucks and fingers you through your orgasm until you’re over sensitive and your top half is limp with your arms dangling off the arm of the couch.

Rafe leans back to admire you and his cock feels like it’s going to burst. Your hair is cascading over your face as you lay limp across the couch with your ass arched in the air. Your crop top is pushed up showing off the curve of your back. Your butt is red and covered in his hand prints and the bite mark is already starting to bruise. Your little skirt is framing your hips perfectly and your pussy is all puffy and dripping creamy, white.

“I know I said I’d take you to the bed, baby girl, but this pussy just looks so god damn irresistible I’ve gotta have her right now.” You hear the metal of his belt clanking and the sound of his zipper before you feel the fat head of his cock slapping against your ass. He grips his shaft as he runs his tip through your dripping folds and then he uses your wetness to lube his cock. Rafe pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance and pushing inside you in one, unforgiving thrust. You both moan in unison as he bottoms out, his balls grazing your clit.

“Oh my god, I’m so full.” You whine as your walls clench around him and Rafe pulls his hips back until only his tip remains before slamming his cock back into you and starting up at a brutal pace. He grips onto your hips and fucks you like a man possessed. He’s entranced by the sight of your ass bouncing back against him while your creamy pussy coats his cock as it swallows him whole over and over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. This pussy is so perfect, fuck, even better than I ever could’ve imagined.” One of Rafe’s hands grips onto your throat and pulls you up so your back is flush against his front and the new angle pushes him even deeper inside you, making your pussy flutter around his cock. He grabs your hand with his free one and presses it against our belly where you can feel his cock bulging from inside you. “Feel that? You’re so fuckin’ full of me.”

“Yes, daddy, you’re so fucking big.” You gasp when he slams his hips up into yours so hard the sound echos off the walls and then he pulls almost all the way out and does it again and again, fucking you rough and deep. Rafe squeezes your neck as he pushes up your crop top so he can grope your tits and pinch your pierced nipples.

“Oh, Angel, I’ve just been dying to see these. The way you prance around in those little bikinis has been driving me insane. Let daddy see those pretty tits.” He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. He grips onto your hips and flips you over so you’re straddling him.

Rafe leans back on the couch and runs his hands down your body before tracing up your stomach so he can graze his fingertips over your pert nipples. He circles the little bars that have hearts in the middle with a groan.

“Oh, fuckin’ look at you. Never seen anything more god damn perfect in my life.” Rafe leans forward to take a nipple in his mouth and it makes you cry out.

“In all your years, right, old man?” You giggle when he pulls back with a glare and grips onto your hip so he can lift you onto his cock, the feeling of him filling you again makes you nearly go cross eyed. “You getting tired yet?”

“I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you, huh?” Rafe plants his feet flat on the ground so he can thrust up into you while using his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock. The sight of your tits in his face has him twitching inside you.

“I think it’s gonna take more than once, actually?” You smirk up at him and Rafe is fucking gone. He’s obsessed with you. “Can your old man knees keep up?”

“Baby, it’s so cute that you think I can’t keep up with you.” Rafe flips you onto your back and grips onto the back of your thighs as he kneels on the couch in front of you so he can pound into you harder and deeper than ever. “Rub your pussy for me.”

“Fuck, daddy, I’m so close.” You moan loudly as you bring your finger to your slick clit and rub circles on it. Rafe grips onto your throat and pins you to the couch cushion as he continues to plow into you. “Want you to fill me up, please?”

“Yeah? I’ll give you my cum as soon as you give me one more. Cum for daddy, sugar.” Rafe squeezes your throat as his dick hits your g-spot and your fingers rub your clit just right and it has euphoria washing over your body. Your pussy is like a vice grip around him and the pretty little moans you’re letting out as you come undone for him has Rafe spilling inside you. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cum this much in his life as his cock continues to pulse inside you and fill you with ropes of his cum. You lay pliant beneath him as you look up at him like he hung the stars and it fills him with pride, “Yeah, that’s my good little girl.”

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” You breathe out and saying it outloud feels like the biggest weight off your shoulders. “I’ve wanted you so fucking badly, Rafe.”

“God, baby.” Rafe grabs your face in his hands and runs his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so god damn I’m obsessed with you too. Now that I’ve had you, I never wanna let you go. I’m addicted.”

“Yeah? Well you never have to. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have an attitude and tease you about your old man knees until the end of time.” You giggle when he throws you a playful glare and it makes a wide smile break out onto his face. “But who knows? Maybe I can be tamed one day, looks like you’ll just have to keep fucking me to find out…”

“I think I can manage that, angel, starting now.” Rafe leans down and kisses you sweetly before gripping onto your hips and standing up to throw you over his shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of this house, starting with my bed.”

In that moment you think to yourself that maybe sometimes birthday wishes really do come true. You both know shit is complicated, but right now you don’t care. You finally have him, and you’ll figure it out together.

Tagging mooties: @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @eddiesxangel @that-sarcastic-writer @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @moonlightseranade 🤍

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ If you made it this far, thanks for sticking around for all 13k words!! I put my blood, sweat, tears, pussy, heart, soul into this. I hope you enjoyed !! DILF!Rafe moodboard ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆