Bigenergy777 - Liam Dunbar’s Princess👑

bahahaha this made me die laughing😂 my angry baby boy😔 love the veins in his neck… yell at me next daddy🙏🏻

credit: @/drewstarkeypics on instagram

stretch; miguel diaz

pairing: miguel diaz x f!reader

summary: "hi how are you!!!? i’ve been thinking about this a lot, but reader being the only person to take care of miguel after his surgery / incident and it just creates so much attraction; since she’s always touching etc 😵‍💫😵‍💫 just pure smut"

word count: 1.4k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, unprotected sex, underage sex, penetrative sex, slight choking, dirty talkish, and porn with plotist again

a/n: i had a very busy weekend but i really wanted to get this out i hope everyone enjoys!!

When you found out Miguel got into a fight at school and then was in the hospital in a coma, when you were out of town, your heart shattered.

You had your mom get you a flight back to California, as soon as possible.

You didn’t know if he was gonna wake up. You don’t even know how he survived a fall like that.

It had now been about two weeks since the surgery and Miguel was still in the wheelchair. You came by every day to cheer him up. You loved putting a smile on his face.

Plus the two of you haven't really been able to be intimate. His mom and Yaya were out running some errands. You had offered to go for them but Miguel's mom insisted you stay with him while they were gone. She said she loved the way you brought a smile onto his face, especially right now.

You took your spare key out of your purse and opened the door.

“Hey, migs.” You said, walking into his room.

“Hi, baby,” he smiled up at you.

You showed up with a bag of his favorite snacks from the corner store.

You sat the bag of food down on his desk, “Okay before we get to the rewards. Ready to do some stretches?”

“I’d like to stretch something out..” he muttered under his breath, low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“What was that?” You said before placing a kiss on his lips.

“Nothin,” he mumbled against your lips, right before deepening the kiss a little. He felt his dick harden a little.

You, unreluctantly, placed your hand on the back of his neck, kissing him back before pulling away.

“C’mon,” he reached for your waist.

You backed up swiftly and smiled at him. “We’ll make out later. First, stretches.” You smiled at him.

You went out into the living room to grab a pillow off the couch. When you returned to his room you stuffed the pillows behind his back so that he was sitting up.

You lifted up his left leg and sat down in front of his right leg. You placed your right hand on his ankle, your left moved to his upper thigh, lightly moving his basketball shorts down to his upper thigh.

He inhaled a sharp breath as he felt your hand inch very close to his mid region.

“You ready?” You asked.

Miguel nodded at you with his bottom lip between his mouth. He loved and missed your touch so much. He felt himself fully harden when he glanced down and saw your hand that close to his dick. He knew that if he didn’t keep his mouth shut he might've let out a moan.

You pushed your right hand that was holding his ankle towards his lower stomach. The action made the hand that was already extremely close to his dick graze it and you inhaled lightly feeling the hardness.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Please.”

“Miguel…”

“Y/N, Please. It’s been so long. I wanna feel you around me any way I can. Please.” Miguel practically whined.

You put his leg down and crawled into his lap, placing your knees around his hips. His clothed cock rubbed against your heat as you sat down in his lap. Miguel’s hands shot up to your ass to guide your grinding when you leaned down to lay a searing hot kiss upon his lips.

Miguel moaned when you moved your lips down to his neck, “Fuck, yes.”

You started to moan into his ear as you kept grinding your hips against his. Miguel’s hands stayed on your ass helping you move your hips with his.

He wanted to come so bad and you knew he didn’t want to in his own pants. 

He wanted you. 

He needed you. 

He needed to come inside you. More than he needed air. More than he cared about being able to walk again. All that clouded his thoughts was you. And especially right now, all he could think about was feeling your hot wet heat squeezing him as he released his hot seed into your pussy. Deep inside of you.

Staying deep inside you until he was sure he was spent. He wanted you to have all of his come. Not wanting to waste a drop.

You stopped moving your hips and practically had to rip his hands off your ass. You quickly removed your pants and underwear and pushed his just below his ass. 

As much as you loved being against him. Skin to Skin. You needed him to be inside of you right that moment. And you needed to feel him come inside of you

You swiftly grabbed his cock and put it at your entrance and started to slowly sit down on him.

Miguel moaned your name when you slid just right past his head. “Mmmm, babe. It’s like you read my fucking mind.”

All you could manage to get out was a low whine, making him smirk. Since it had been so long it was feeling like the first time you two had sex. And it was almost too much for you to handle.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you were completely sitting on his cock. You felt like he was in your stomach. You placed your hand on your stomach like you had a baby in there. Miguel bit his lip then grabbed your ass even harder, eliciting a moan from you. He started to lift you up slowly, slamming you back down onto his cock. You couldn't help but let out a loud moan.

“M-Mi-Miguel, oh fuck!” You gasped. You may have been on top but he was still in control. He was making your mind go dizzy. You had to drop your hands onto his chest to bind yourself.

Miguel kept letting out groans, hearing your pussy squelch around him. He was so close to coming so fucking close. He started to bring you up and down at a faster pace. Saying a slew of curse words in Spanish.

“Y/N, I want you to come for me. Do you wanna come for me?” Miguel spoke in between his grunts. 

You tried to get out the words to respond to him but your words came out in babbles as you reached the tip of your climax you were so close and-

“Did you fucking hear me?” He growled as he took one hand from your hips and wrapped it against your neck.

You’ve never felt your climax hit you so hard and so fast. Your eyesight went spotty from how hard you shut your eyes. You love it so so sooo fucking much when he’s assertive. 

You couldn’t help yourself but moan out his name over and over again as you felt yourself get wetter as you milked his hot. Begging him to come not using so many words.

“Si, esa es mi chica.” He smiled at you and then you felt his dick twitch inside of you. He removed his hand from around your neck and put it back on your hip. Miguel quickly moved you no more than an inch up before slamming you right back down on his cock. He came while moaning. You will never get over how good it feels when he comes inside of you. Claiming you.

Miguel's climax made you come again

You clenched your pussy around him making sure you got every last drop of his seed. You bent down and gave him a slow kiss as you cut your breath.

“I love you so much handsome.”

“I love you most, mi amor.”

You lifted yourself off of him with a wince, having gotten used to him inside of you again. You went on to clean the both of you up.

You climbed back into the bed and then laid on his chest. You loved his afterglow after you two finished. You loved staring at his face and taking in every single one of his features as if you were outlining a picture of him on a piece of paper. He was so goddamn beautiful and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You didn't realize you were dozing off til you woke up about an hour later and you continued to examine his face like you had been doing before you fell asleep. You could do this for the rest of your life.

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚄

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 25 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 16 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚞𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜.

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎: 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖. 𝚆𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚅𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎.

a/n: She's a little long but aaahhh she's done :,) thank you all for reading. ILY

There’s also some errors in here but I finished at 3am. Ignore them

Taglist + some moots <3 - @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @megiiite @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @angelicameron @maybankslover @etheraltides @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @xdaughterofpersephonex @zyafics @leather-n-velvet @mima116 @urbrunettebombshell @pogueprincesa @purplerose291 @frankoceanluvr11 @ivysprophecy @starsmoonn @akobx @httpsdrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @littlelamy @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @inthelibrarybtw @lillell467 @costalgirlyr @wtfisastiles @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew

House of Balloons

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: It was storming the night he told you that no man in Outer Banks will ever love you like he does

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, loss of virginity, jealousy, underage drinking, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You should’ve guessed that things weren’t right the night your brother punched your very first boyfriend in the face.

Your anger over his actions was only trumped by your embarrassment. The other unsuspecting teenager had been completely blindsided, falling out cold on the floor of the party while you had been temporarily frozen with shock. No matter what excuse Topper gave that night—words slurring and pupils blown—you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Your humiliation and confusion and irritation had made you shut him out completely, only made worse by your fears coming true when you were swiftly dumped two days later.

“He was too old for you, anyway,” was his only comment on the situation.

You’d been fourteen then, and your boyfriend was the same age as him.

Your dating life after that was sparse to say the least, hardly anyone wanting to go near the girl with the overprotective brother. Nonexistent wasn’t the right word to use. After all, you still took the odd brave guy or two up on their offers, skipping class and sneaking out of your room just to have something like the same experiences your friends were having. It worked for a time.

Until they decided they wanted something with less effort and trouble, and you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

“If you’d actually been honest with me, I could’ve long told you those guys were assholes and not to waste your time.”

That was what Topper told you the night you’d finally decided to confide in him, his expression lacking anger…but only holding disappointment. You didn’t know why that bothered you more than him being mad. Maybe it was because you looked up to Topper in ways that should’ve been reserved for your father. The day he married Topper’s mother, it was like you became less in his eyes, the older man finally gaining the son he always wanted.

Topper could be a suffocating dick sometimes, but the way he cared about you was comforting.

“What did you expect from me when you literally ran my first boyfriend off?” you wondered with a roll of your eyes, applying your blush. “Sue me for wanting to have the life you did.”

You could see the blond lounged along your bed in the reflection of your mirror, his blue gaze briefly lifting from the phone in his hand. He watched you sift through the myriad of lip glosses in your drawer before finally speaking.

“Yeah, I remember him. He was an asshole who with a preference for ‘fresh meat’, an asshole I explicitly told to stay away from you,” he told you.

You paused at that, catching his gaze in the mirror, and the corner of his lips twitched when you sighed.

“You could’ve told me that,” you mumbled. “You just kept saying that he was an asshole who didn’t deserve me. Surely, you knew that was like catnip to a high school freshman, right?”

You threw him a look.

“I blamed you for months when he broke up with me.”

Topper only shrugged.

“I knew you’d thank me one day,” he smugly replied, and you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though the damage was done. “Besides, I did what any good brother should do—look out for you until you’re old enough to make your own choices.”

Done with your makeup, you merely pursed your lips, staring at him through the mirror as he scrolled on his phone. The longer the silence stretched, that was when Topper finally lifted his gaze again, and you scoffed the moment his eyes met yours.

“You’re trying to pretend like you’re still not a controlling asshole, and it’s actually upsetting,” you huffed, standing. “Like I didn’t see your eyebrow twitch the other night when I told your mother I had a date.”

Before you could grab the dress at the foot of your bed, Topper beat you to it. You watched him run a hand through his blond strands, making his way to your closet as your words hung in the air.

“That’s because you don’t have the best taste in guys,” you heard him throw over his shoulder.

He was in your closet, and the sound of shuffling fabric and moving hangers reached your ears. When he came back out, there was an entirely different dress hanging off of his hand, and you could only eye it as he neared you. He slowly held it out to you, blue gaze boring into your own.

“Your graduation dress looks better on you,” was his only comment.

You eyed it again, silently—and reluctantly—agreeing. You were slow to take it, met with the very smirk you didn’t want to see, and Topper’s voice carried into the bathroom as you shut the door behind you.

“Still, you’re eighteen, now, and I have to let you do what you want,” you rolled your eyes at his remark. “Even if what you want are lower-class Pogues who can’t even afford to take you on a proper date.”

Your dress wasn’t even zipped all the way when you swung the door open, face pinched as you glared at the other man. Topper was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, and the lack of humor on his face told you that wasn’t a joke. You told yourself that this wasn’t surprising, very much aware of how classist your brother could be, but it didn’t do anything to lessen your anger.

“Could you be any more of a snob? His family doesn’t have a vacation house and a two-car garage, so now he’s low class?” you scoffed.

Topper tilted his head at you, an expression on his face that begged you to be serious.

“He’s not even picking you up. You’re meeting him at the beach. You call it romantic, I call it cheap and lazy,” he elaborated, straightening and invading your personal space.

You clenched your teeth when he reached out to gently touch your arms, forcing you to turn around without a word. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, holding the dress in place while his other pulled on the zipper. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, and you were unsurprised when another nagging comment met your ears.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be the asshole you think I am if you actually picked men worthy of your time,” he whispered.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, Topper merely shrugged, his expression telling you that he wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t going to stop you. Again, there was that disappointment flitting across his features, and it unfortunately had you second guessing things. Some part of you knew that Topper was right, but his quick dismissal of your potential boyfriend made your stubbornness rear its ugly head.

“Don’t wait up for me,” was all you told him as you grabbed your purse.

The only response you got was a slight snort, but Topper said nothing otherwise, both of you knowing that despite what you requested, he was absolutely going to.

The night Topper kissed you, you were drunk out of your mind.

That potential boyfriend became an official boyfriend who turned out to be a piece of shit. Your breakup coincided with some silly party your parents were throwing, Topper being your only age mate on the whole property, so it was only natural that you found yourselves on the back deck that connected to his bedroom. It was dimly lit and hidden away from any curious gazes that might be in the yard below.

“Can you just…not say I told you so?” you mumbled, finger tapping against the glass in your hand. “It’s bad enough that I told the whole family to account for him being here tonight.”

When Topper reached over to steal your drink, fingers grazing yours as he did, you let him.

“You know that’s not my thing,” he said, voice low. “Besides, it’s not like it’d do any good.”

You couldn’t hold in your soft chuckle, louder laughs in the yard overpowering yours, but theirs lacked your bitterness.

You didn’t even know why this breakup bothered you so much. The whole relationship lasted a month, but that did nothing to soften the blow. You’d dived head first into the relationship—as you always did—and so those thirty days just felt like ninety in your mind. You’d been hopeful, excited, and you recalled something a friend said once…about so much of the relationship happening in your head.

You were reluctant to admit that she’d been right.

Not unlike before, you’d made up so much of his personality. You’d given him attributes and an entire personality that didn’t align with reality, and that was why you felt blindsided. Looking back, there was nothing about him that told you he was a patient and loving and understanding guy, so was it really a shock when broke up with you? It’d been a month, and you weren’t ready to have sex with him, and so he responded in a way that guys like him usually did.

Anyone could’ve seen that coming, and yet…

“What’s wrong with me?”

You almost didn’t realize you’d said that, the words coming out in a small whisper before you could swallow them down. You liked to think it was the alcohol talking, but you knew that the brown liquor you’d snuck away was only just making you more honest. You were entertaining thoughts you normally preferred to ignore and shove down.

“Hey…”

Topper’s tone told you that he’d heard you loud and clear, and you only shook your head when his hand gently touched your arm.

“I mean…” you shrugged, throwing a hand out. “Am I not good enough to actually get to know?”

Topper said your name, and you heard him sit the drink down.

“If I don’t put out, am I just…not worth the effort?”

His voice was firmer this time when he said your name, and you hadn’t realized that he moved closer until his hands were on your arms and making you face him. There was a frown on his face as he eyed you, that blue gaze of his tracing your features.

“Stop letting these assholes get to you,” he told you. “You’re better than every single one of them.”

His advice was easier said than done, and so you didn’t respond, only frowning back at him before your eyes fell to the wood, tracing the lines in it.

“You have to say that, Topper,” you sighed. “It doesn’t exactly hit the same coming from you.”

You heard him release a heavy sigh too, his hands coming up to frame your face. When you were forced to look at him again, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Topper’s blond hair wasn’t in its normal neat state, the light strands kissing his forehead as he ran his gaze over your face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and so you were relieved when he voiced his thoughts.

“I’m saying it because it’s true…because I don’t actually have to say anything,” he continued, an edge to his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that I think you’re an insecure little girl who dates losers because you don’t have your father’s approval.”

You flinched at that, frown deepening.

“I don’t have to tell you that it pisses me off that you just don’t learn,” he bit out, and you hated how much his words stung.

…because they were true.

“You go after these guys who shouldn’t even have the confidence to approach you, and what kills me is that every time they break your heart, you go out prepared to repeat the process-.”

“Jesus, Topper!” you slapped one of his hands away. “What the hell?”

You sat up straight, tearfully glowering at him. The other guy didn’t look all that sorry, and you angrily wiped your face with a scoff.

“Is this your idea of comforting me?” you choked out.

The blond briefly looked away, and he at least had the sense to have some shame, a sheepish glint passing through his eyes. You watched him swallow, jaw clenching as he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You could just do so much better,” he finally said, tone thick with disappointment. “…and you choose not to.”

You bristled at his words.

“Let you tell it, no guy is good enough for me, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your critique to heart,” you spat.

“No guy is good enough for you.”

Topper wasn’t looking at you, but instead was staring straight ahead, one arm resting on a bent knee. The sounds of the party still provided some background noise, but you weren’t focused on that. You were more focused on the tightness in your brother’s jaw, a coldness in his blue eyes that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Of all his friends, Topper was considered the nice one—the respectable one—but you were probably one of the few people who knew just how nasty he could be.

It was something that only one other person was able to bring out in him.

So…you didn’t know why you said it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You were trying to get under his skin…but you didn’t know that you were already there.

“Maybe I am…”

Topper’s tone was even, devoid of all humor, and he slowly turned to look at you.

His response took you by surprise, and your lips parted, prepared to jokingly tell him to shut up when his expression gave you pause. There was no mirthful twinkle in his eye, not even a mocking or condescending glint that told you he was playing along and trying to bother you just as much.

Topper was serious.

“Maybe I am jealous,” he continued, shifting to fully face you, now. “So, now what?”

You frowned at him, blinking a few times as your mouth opened and closed. You were all too aware of your heart in your chest…among other things. Like the fact that you two were alone and Topper was really close, and you’d had way too much to drink. The party downstairs felt so far away, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut.

No, you and Topper didn’t share blood, but this revelation you were slowly coming to terms with unsettled you beyond belief. Topper couldn’t be jealous…not of your exes…because that implied that… You shook your head, looking away and having the strong urge to lie down.

“Do you know what it’s like? To know you give asshole after asshole a chance, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Yeah, because-!”

“I know what I am, Y/N,” he cut you off. “You don’t have to remind me.”

He bitterly mumbled that last part, and you finally looked at him again.

“Topper…you can’t be jealous of my exes,” you slowly told him, the words coming out in a whisper like you were afraid to say it out loud.

You were all too aware of just how close he’d gotten, and it was hard to focus on anything else. You wanted to leave—needed to leave—but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You watched his blue eyes flit over your face, studying you and drinking you in, and you sharply inhaled when you saw his hand lifting out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he quietly responded, hand coming up to take hold of your jaw.

You pushed against his arm—and chest—but the blond wouldn’t budge, and a bout of panic took hold of you.

“Topper-!”

The rest of your words were swallowed and forgotten, his lips moving against yours in a kiss. It—in combination with the alcohol—made your head spin, and you gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, moving closer and pressing his chest to yours. One hand against his chest and one against his arm didn’t deter him, and you jumped when an arm tightly snaked around your waist.

You were practically forced into Topper’s lap, and the more he kissed you, the more you forgot about the party downstairs.

The alcohol made it hard to focus on what was important, your brain getting distracted and becoming preoccupied with the taste of alcohol on his tongue. You were hyperaware of his hand pressing into your waist and the way his other hand was so warm against your jaw, his thumb tracing patterns into your skin. The ministrations had your body heating up, and although you knew why you needed to stop, you couldn’t work your limbs to try harder to.

Your head fell back when Topper’s lips traveled to your throat, and he let your face go, fingers dancing down your frame.

When they found comfort on your thigh, your dress riding up in the commotion, you shuddered. They felt so hot against your skin, and the heat traveled all the way to your stomach, settling deeply there. Without thinking, you parted your thighs a bit, and you felt Topper hum against your throat. The sound was soon followed by his hand disappearing between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips closer.

You were shocked at how easy it was for him to push a finger into you. It dragged a breathy yelp from your lips, your hand coming up to grab onto his shoulder when he added another. You spread your legs more, hips lifting, and you heard Topper curse as he sank his fingers into you. You couldn’t stop moaning, the alcohol making you lose all sense of caution, so you weren’t shocked when he kissed you again.

“Topper,” you gasped against his mouth.

It was wrong, and you remembered why it was wrong…but you couldn’t stop. Before where you’d been trying to push him away, you were now pulling him closer, lifting your hips to meet every curve of his fingers and toes curling against the wood of the balcony. You were dripping around him, now, something that would’ve embarrassed you had you been in your right mind, but at the moment, you only wanted to come.

When you did, he let your waist go to cover your mouth.

You couldn’t stop murmuring and mewling into the palm of his hand, his other hand still pushing fingers into you and circling your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Stars danced in your vision, and you felt the blond lean in and press kisses against your throat and collarbone. You were still trembling when you started to frown, all too aware of his fingers inside of you as you wondered what you’d just done.

You ignored the heat of familiar gazes as you grabbed your things, wanting to be literally anywhere else.

Hitting a few balls with Rafe turned into hitting a few with Kelce and Rafe and then eventually Topper and Kelce and Rafe. The arrival of your brother had triggered a drastic mood shift, and as much as you’d tried to hide it, you didn’t think you were doing a good job. Especially once the gathering was moved inside to get something to eat. Unable to pretend anymore, you feigned an illness.

“Y/N, at least let me drive you…”

“I’d rather walk,” you told Topper, avoiding his eye and declining his offer.

There was no doubt in your mind that the other two picked up on the tension, confirmed when Rafe’s voice carried as you exited the building.

“Geez,” he’d exhaled. “What’s going on with you two?”

The question still lingered in your mind all the way back home.

What’s going on with you two… How loaded that answer was, and you yourself couldn’t even convey it fully. Memories of the party had plagued your mind for weeks, now, and despite how you should feel about it, you were learning that it wasn’t so simple. Your stomach flipped for multiple reasons as you recalled the feeling of Topper’s hands on you.

The entire ordeal was beyond dubious, your head in the toilet later that night only proof of how much you’d had to drink. Finding out that your brother thought of you in ways a brother shouldn’t should’ve gone in a whole other direction. The lack of blood relation did little to lessen your uneasiness and guilt, chest aching uncomfortably at the memory of his fingers inside of you.

Your parents were married, had been for eight years, now.

You were well and fully settled in as a family unit at this point…and yet…

That did nothing to lessen the heat deep in your gut when you thought about Topper kissing you and touching you in ways no one ever had before. It was something that kept you up at night, and on particularly bad nights, you found your own hand drifting between your legs to try and replicate the same feelings he’d pulled from you under the cover of darkness while your parents had been none the wiser.

To say that things were awkward and messed up was an understatement.

You were angry with him…but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was a source of great conflict for you, and unsure of how to act around the one person you’d trusted the most, you simply opted with ignoring him and avoiding him as best as you could. Not only was this noticeable to any and everyone you knew—your combined presence a normality—but it also pissed Topper off.

Very much.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

Those were the words that greeted you a few days later as you washed dishes. His mother was out, and your father was upstairs in his study, and despite the fact that you very much wanted to do what he said you couldn’t, you acknowledged him, anyway.

“I can try…”

When he said your name, it was softly spoken, but you weren’t oblivious to the edge in his voice.

“Can we talk for a sec…” he suggested. “I mean, like, a real conversation.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you-.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he breathed, his hand coming up to rest on your arm. “You have a lot to say to me, and I don’t care if you just want to curse me out because you’ve never held back before.”

Roughly dropping a plate back into the water, you took a deep breath. Facing Topper, you really looked at him for the first time in weeks. You hated that despite the circumstances of what happened that night, he looked different to you…less like a brother… Such a thought made you briefly close your eyes, and when you opened them again, you were angry again.

“What is wrong with you?” you breathlessly wondered.

Your tone had his jaw clenching, and you watched him look away. You didn’t pull your gaze away as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and when he looked at you again, you were surprised to find a hint of anger in his blue eyes.

“You’re treating me like…like I’m some kind of pervert,” he whispered.

Your heart did clench at that, and you couldn’t pretend to ignore how that accusation made you feel. You were closer to Topper than you were to anyone else, and despite your anger, you still loved him—cared about him. No, you didn’t think that, but the circumstances of that night—and the circumstances surrounding this entire situation—were messing with your head.

“…and instead of like the guy who has always cared about you.”

You swallowed.

“I fucked up that night,” he admitted to you. “I messed up, and I can see that it’s freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

Your eyes burned at his apology, and even though some part of you wanted something else just as much, you knew that an apology was what you should want more than anything. That night had to be a one-off thing, something to never be repeated. If you wanted to keep your sanity and have things go back to normal, you had to forget about it, and you had to convince Topper to do the same.

“Topper, we can’t…we can’t do anything like that ever again,” you whispered, and you watched his face even out. “I can’t tell you how to feel…”

The blond nodded, swiping his tongue between his lips.

“…but I’m telling you that I need things to go back to normal…”

Topper’s shoulders sagged at that, and you struggled to swallow.

“You’re the one person that I can talk to about almost anything…and the one person I know I can count on, and… I’m feeling really unsure about that, right now, and I don’t like that, and it’s scary…”

You trailed off when Topper wrapped his arms around you, gently shushing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized again. “I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your skin as he spoke.

“I was being a selfish asshole that night,” he whispered. “Obviously this can’t be anything else.”

His hands moved up and down your back in soothing gestures, and while it was reminiscent of something he always did to calm you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder about what other meaning it might’ve always had. Telling yourself that Topper cared more about what you wanted instead of chasing the high of an alcohol fueled night, you hugged him back, accepting his apology.

It was storming the night you lost your virginity to your stepbrother.

The loud rain and harsh winds and booming thunder all seemed to work together to drown out the sounds of your breathless moans and surprised gasps. Topper’s forearms were pressed into the pillow on either side of your head as he snapped his hips against yours, the mix of pain and pleasure jumbling your brain. With the power out, the only source of light came from the occasional flash of lightning.

A late-night conversation had dwindled down into nothing the longer the night dragged on. Dozing off at his side wasn’t abnormal, your descent into fatigue made all the more quicker when accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the window. Despite your brief rough patch after that night, you and Topper started treating each other like you always had. It wasn’t without difficulty. After all, there were nights where you still woke up with the memory of his lips touching yours, but it was easy enough to ignore…

Waking up to the feel of an arm around your waist and a hardness against your thigh was not.

You feigned sleep, unsure of what to do or how to proceed and even unsure if Topper was awake and wholly aware. The wind knocked the shutters against the window, and the room was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. The thunder and rain were all you could hear, even deaf to your own breathing, but especially Topper’s. However, when you turned your head, you learned that the blond was very much awake.

You didn’t have time to properly gather your thoughts about the kiss, Topper pulling you against him and rolling on top of you before you could. Your mind had been going a mile a minute to make sense of what was happening, and by the time you did, it was too late—his bare chest was pressing against yours and his arms were caging you in.

“Oh my God,” you’d breathed the moment he pushed his cock into you.

The words had escaped from both the shock and the pain, repeating them as you also registered the way your stomach flipped.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in the darkness, a miracle that you could hear him. “You’re okay.”

Were you?

“Topper,” you’d murmured, your tone making your thoughts clear.

“I fucking love you,” was his defense. “Don’t you get that?”

He remained still inside of you for some time, both of you quietly going back and forth.

“We can’t do this,” you’d hissed.

“You saying we can’t isn’t the same as you saying you don’t want to…”

It was the truth, and you weren’t going to lie, but you could only manage to shake your head.

When he started to move, you gasped, somehow getting used to the feel of him in the time you argued. Feeling him pull out before pushing his way back into you had your back arching, absentmindedly lifting your hips. Every reason as to why you shouldn’t do this became less and less important the longer he fucked you. Your nails clawed at his skin, and Topper hissed at the feeling.

He nipped at your neck, teeth gently pulling at the skin while he plunged his cock into you. You felt so full and so stretched in a way that your fingers—nor his—could compare to. All that was left of the pain was a dull ache, even that becoming overshadowed by the pleasure his thrusts brought to you. You were thankful for the storm, sure you wouldn’t even be able to keep quiet if you tried.

“None of those assholes loved you,” he panted against your lips, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. “None of them will ever love you like I do.”

Your fingers pressed into his arm and back, breath hitching at a particularly hard thrust.

When he kissed you, just like that night, you kissed him back. Only this time, you weren’t drunk. You were perfectly sober, and you moaned against his lips at the feel of his cock sinking into you. This was the wettest you’d ever been, dripping around him and making a mess of his sheets, no doubt. His hair was damp with sweat, the soft strands pressing against your forehead, and his skin fared no better. Your hands slid over him with ease, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your frames.

Topper was still fucking you when the thunder stopped, and the rain slackened. It was still dark, but you found yourself biting your lip in an effort to not give yourselves away. You found it difficult, the blonde’s cock hitting something inside of you that made you shudder and clench down onto him. When his hands trailed down to grab onto your waist, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted your hips for you.

You could just make him out in the darkness, his gaze holding yours as you held onto him and fluttered around his cock. You could feel him push himself to his knees, and you dazedly reached down to cover his hands with your own. He stroked something inside of you that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and the moment you fell over, you sank your teeth into your lip so hard that you tasted blood.

Your vision momentarily went completely dark, only able to focus on the feel of you tightening around Topper. You took note of his hands on your waist, your hands on his, the movement of the bed and the soft rain outside. As your breathing slowed, you also noticed the sloppiness of his thrusts, and your vision refocused just as the blond pulled out.

His sigh reached your ears as he came onto your stomach.

Aside from the rain, the only sound in the room was that of your soft and labored breathing. You were equally awed and shocked, almost feeling like you’d just had an out of body experience. You were trembling, but not just because you were cold, and sensing this, Topper wrapped his arms around you.

“Topper…”

Your tone was unsure, too many emotions fighting for dominance as you marinated in the aftermath of what just happened. His chest was to your back—heart still racing—and his only response was a quiet ‘tomorrow’. The hand that wasn’t resting on your stomach found a home on the front of your throat, and Topper softly repeated himself when he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

drew in a suit 😫

I would sell my soul just for one second with this man😫😫

… just bouncing on top

MasterList

❥𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓁ℴ𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓊𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝒻ℴ𝓇 18+ ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓃𝓈𝒻𝓌 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝓈ℴ 𝓅𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ 𝒹ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓇ℯ 𝒶 𝓂𝒾𝓃ℴ𝓇

❥𝒫𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ 𝒹ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒸ℴ𝓅𝓎 ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓀

ℒ𝒾𝒶𝓂 𝒟𝓊𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓇

Steamy

Get A Clue

I Hate You

𝒥ℯ𝓇ℯ𝓂𝒾𝒶𝒽 ℱ𝒾𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓇

Best Friends Brother

𝒞ℴ𝓃𝓇𝒶𝒹 ℱ𝒾𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓇

The Roommate

Rafe Cameron

3AM

See You Later Daddy

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚄 & 𝙵𝙸𝙲 - 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 #2

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢/𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚍𝚗𝚒, 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕-𝚖, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢)

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 25 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔 <3

𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎… 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

It had been a rollercoaster these past few months. The kind that had shaken both of you to the core. But now, as the dust settled, things were finally starting to feel like they could go back to normal. The accusations against Rafe had been false, his name cleared, his family in custody, and the tension that had been hanging between you both for days had dissolved into a sense of relief.

Tonight, the whole crew—JJ, Kie, Sarah, John B, Pope, Cleo, Topper, and Kelce—were out at a local restaurant celebrating the victory. You and Rafe sat at the center of the table, everyone laughing, joking, and teasing each other like they always did.

It felt like old times. A sense of normalcy returning to your life. But there was an undercurrent of emotion inside you. You couldn’t stop glancing at Rafe, your heart swelling with love and guilt all at once. Love because of the way he looked at you, his eyes soft and full of warmth. Guilt because, for a moment, you had doubted him, and that thought made your stomach turn. And then, there was the quiet simmering rage toward his mother and stepfather—the people who had caused so much turmoil in his life.

“Hey, you two!” JJ said, raising his glass of beer in the air. “How about a toast to clearing your name and getting back to doing whatever it is you two do best?”

The table erupted in cheers. You clinked your glass with Rafe’s, your fingers brushing his as you held it up. Rafe flashed you a grin, his expression playful but tender.

“You sure?” You teased, trying to sound casual. “It’s a completely common thing, getting to celebrate clearing your name after being accused of… well, you know. Nothing to cheers over." The group laughs at your sarcasm.

Rafe smirked, leaning in closer. “I’ll take any excuse to drink with you, babe,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled, the warmth of his words melting any lingering doubts. Both of you moving in to share a kiss. It deepening quickly as you forget where you are.

“Okay, okay,” Sarah interjected interrupting you, her voice a little too loud as she waved her hand dramatically. “Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, let’s talk about something important—who’s going to win in a rematch between Rafe and JJ in pool? Place your bets!”

“Definitely not Rafe,” JJ said, shaking his head. “He’s got no chance against me.”

Rafe laughed, an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re delusional, JJ. I’ll be taking that victory home, no problem.”

John B grinned. “This is gonna be good. I wanna see this.”

The whole table erupted into laughter as the conversation turned to playful jabs about past pool games and who had the best shot. But all the while, your gaze kept drifting back to Rafe. He was laughing, joking, but you could see the subtle relief in his posture—he was no longer carrying the weight of false accusations on his shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been lost in your thoughts when Cleo nudged you gently. “You okay? You’ve been staring at Rafe all night,” she said with a sly smile.

Your cheeks flushed slightly. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind. I guess I’m just happy things are back to normal.”

“I can tell,” she said with a wink. “Just don’t get too lost in him. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

You laughed, a little too loudly, and nodded. “I’ll try not to.”

But deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection every time your eyes met his. It was like all the pieces were falling back into place. The stress, the doubt, the fear—it was all fading, and the relief was almost too much to bear. You still hated his mother and stepfather for everything they put him through, for trying to tear you two apart. But tonight, it didn’t matter. You had Rafe, and that was enough.

The night continued, the laughter and joking never stopping. At one point, Topper even stood up and did an exaggerated version of an old dance move, which had everyone in stitches. Rafe, grinning from ear to ear, leaned over to you and whispered, “Can you believe we’re here, celebrating this?”

You took a deep breath, the weight of everything lifting off your shoulders. “I’m just glad we’re here. Together.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, his voice full of sincerity.

Later that night, as you and Rafe walked back to your car, hand in hand, the world felt lighter. You felt a burst of anticipation growing inside you. There were things you wanted to say, things you needed to say. Emotions that had been bottled up too long. The guilt, the anger, the frustration—it was all about to be released.

The house was eerily quiet, empty except for you and Rafe. Noelle was staying over at your cousin’s house for the night, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to finally let loose and express everything you had been holding in. Tonight, it was just the two of you—and nothing else mattered.

As soon as Rafe unlocked the front door, you didn’t hesitate. You shoved the door open, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pulled him inside. His surprised expression shifted into one of excitement as you pressed your lips to his, silencing any questions with the intensity of your kiss.

He responded immediately, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You backed him up into the living room, never once breaking the kiss, your hearts pounding in sync. He stumbled slightly, and you took the opportunity to push him down onto the couch, his back hitting the cushions with a soft thud.

Rafe looked up at you, breathless and grinning. “You sure know how to make an entrance,” he said, his voice rough.

You smiled wickedly, running your fingers through his hair. “Just getting started,” you whispered, your voice low with a mix of affection and desire.

Rafe’s grin widened, his hands trailing down to your hips, pulling you to straddle him. “Well, I’m all yours,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with intent.

You leaned down, hands resting on his thighs, pressing your lips against his again, this time slower, more deliberate. The world outside felt so distant, the only thing that mattered was him—the way he kissed you back, the way his hands gripped you as if he never wanted to let go. You had so much to say, so much to release, but for now, this moment—this feeling—was enough.

You pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his as you caught your breath. “I’ve been thinking about this all night,” you admitted quietly. “About how much I want you right now.”

Rafe’s chest rose and fell with the same urgency, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar intensity. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” he confessed, his fingers trailing down your spine.

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering. There was so much to say, so much to share, but right now, this was all that mattered. You let the weight of the moment wash over you, savoring the connection between you two, the undeniable spark that had never really faded.

“You’re mine,” you murmured, claiming him in a way that felt like both a promise and a declaration a reminder of everything you've gone through recently.. “And I’m not letting go.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he pulled you closer. “Never wanted you to.”

Rafe’s eyes never left you as you stood up, your fingers working quickly to remove your clothing. The look of surprise in his eyes shifted to something deeper, something primal. When you slipped off your last piece, standing before him only in your lingerie and heels, his breath caught.

“You… didn’t tell me about this part,” he said, his voice husky with desire, his eyes darkening as they roamed over your body. He looked like he wanted to reach out, touch you, but you held up a hand, signaling for him to wait.

You took a slow step toward him, a wicked grin curling on your lips. “This night is all about you, Rafe,” you said, your voice low and seductive. “About your win.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he nodded without a word, his hands already moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. You watched him intently as he stripped away his clothes, leaving him only in his boxers. His chest was bare, his muscles rippling with every movement, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken.

As he finished, he started to stand up, but you quickly stepped forward, a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back down into the couch. His eyes searched yours, confused but trusting, and you could see the heat building in him.

“No,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “This is about you tonight. You sit here and let me take care of everything. I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me.”

He leaned back, his eyes locking with yours, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I like the sound of that,” he murmured, but there was something in his gaze that told you he was willing to let you take control, to let you set the pace for the night.

This wasn’t just about passion—it was about reclaiming what was rightfully his, what was rightfully yours. It was about power, trust, and desire. And tonight, everything was going to be just as you wanted.

You took a deep breath, watching the fire in his eyes flicker as you stepped closer, ready to begin your celebration.

You drop to your knees in front of Rafe and run your hands up and down his thighs, until you reach all the way up and wrap your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off.

As you pulled his boxers off, Rafe's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with anticipation. You could see the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed as he waited for your next move. You slowly trailed your hands back down his thighs, feeling the softness of his skin, the gentle curve of his muscles.

"Fuck, I've missed this," Rafe whispered, his voice low and husky.

Your fingers danced across his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Rafe's breath caught in his throat as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of his erection. He let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the sensation.

"You have no idea how much I've missed it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You wrapped your lips around him, taking him deep into your mouth. Rafe's hands instinctively went to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you. But you were in control, setting the pace, determining the depth and the pressure.

"Oh, god, yes," Rafe moaned, his hips rising to meet you. "Just like that."

As you moved up and down, Rafe's moans grew louder, his body tensing with pleasure. You could feel his thighs trembling with restraint. You reached up, your hands cupping his balls, gently massaging them as you continued to suck.

"Fuck, you're going to make me come," Rafe warned, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his. "Not yet," you said, your voice firm.

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. "You're killing me," he whispered.

You slowed your pace, teasing him with gentle licks and soft sucks. Rafe's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with desire.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don't stop."

You smiled, your lips still wrapped around him. "I won't stop until you're begging for mercy," you replied, your voice husky.

Rafe's eyes flashed with excitement, and he leaned back, his hands falling to his sides as he let you take control. You could see the trust in his eyes, the knowledge that you were in charge, and he was yours to command.

As you continued to suck, Rafe's moans grew louder, his body tensing with pleasure. You could feel his thighs trembling with restraint, his hips rising to meet you.

"Oh, god, yes," Rafe whispered, his voice strained. "I'm going to come."

You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his. "Come for me," you said, your voice husky.

Rafe squeeze his eyes shut and he let out a low groan as he came, his cum filling your mouth. You swallowed, feeling the warmth spread through you, and then you stood up, a smile on your face.

Rafe's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with desire. "You're amazing," he whispered.

You reached down, your hands slipping under the hem and pulled off your panties. Rafe's eyes widened as you straddled him, your legs wrapping around his hips. Unhooking your bra as you settled in his lap.

"I'm not done with you yet," you said, your voice firm.

Rafe's hands went to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as you lined him up to your entrance. You could feel his cock, already hard again and ready, and you sank down onto him, feeling him fill you.

"Oh, god," Rafe whispered, his eyes closing as you began to bounce on his cock.

You leaned forward, your hands on his chest, and rode him, feeling the pleasure build inside you. Rafe's hands went to your breasts, his fingers tweaking your nipples, and you let out a low moan. You let your hair fall around you, creating a curtain of privacy around the two of you. Rafe's eyes locked with yours, his gaze burning with desire, and you could feel the connection between you, the spark of attraction that seemed to grow stronger with every passing moment. The one that's always been there but reignited again after everything.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Rafe whispered, his eyes opening to lock with yours.

You smiled, your eyes never leaving his. "You feel so fucking good," you replied, your voice husky.

"Oh, god," Rafe's voice strained. "You're going to make me come again."

As you continued to ride him, Rafe's hands went back to your hips, his fingers guiding you, helping you set the pace. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you came.

As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building inside you until it was almost unbearable. You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against Rafe's ear, and whispered, "I'm going to come."

"Come for me," Rafe whispered, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

As you reached the peak, your body surrendered to the intense sensation, shuddering with release. Rafe's hands grasped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he felt your inner muscles contract around him.

In the same moment, Rafe's body began to stiffen, his cock surging with renewed arousal. You felt him twitching inside of you.

"Come with me." The words sparked a fierce response, and Rafe's body erupted in a frenzy of pleasure, his cum filling you as he reached his own climax.

The dual release created a whirlpool of sensation, a swirling vortex of pleasure that swept you both up in its depths. Your bodies moved in perfect sync, the rhythmic contractions of your inner muscles milking Rafe's cock as he emptied himself into you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a delicious overload of pleasure that left you both breathless and trembling with aftershocks.

As you both settle from your highs, Rafe's hand strokes your lower back as his head hangs off the back of the couch as he tries to catch his breath. Your hands sit on his shoulders and your thumbs draw circles on sweat slicked skin.

"Y'know, this isn't just my win, right?" Rafe asks as he lifts his head back up, looking into your eyes.

"What do you mean?" You ask through a curious smile.

"You've been so strong through all of this, whether you think so or not, this is your win too baby. You didn't have to end up here with me like this. I want to do something for you too." Rafe said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

He lifts you off of him standing up and setting you back down on the couch on your knees, your upper half hanging on the back.

As Rafe's words hung in the air, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You looked back at him, your eyes locking with his, and saw the intensity burning within them. "You're going to fuck me again?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe's smile was wicked, his eyes gleaming with desire. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he promised, his hand stroking his cock with a slow, deliberate rhythm. "You've been so strong for No, taking care of her and putting her needs before your own. Tonight, is about you to. Tonight, you get to let go and just feel."

You felt a surge of excitement at his words, your body already responding to the promise of pleasure. "I want that," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

Rafe's eyes flashed with heat, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to give it to you," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll forget your own name."

As he spoke, his hand caressed your ass, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks and sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself leaning back into his touch, your body arching towards him like a cat seeking attention.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe's laughter was low and husky, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, baby," he whispered, "You're gonna love this."

"Ah, fuck," Rafe growled, his voice low and husky, as he slipped his cock into you from behind. You felt him fill you, his thickness stretching you to the limit, and you couldn't help but moan in anticipation.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whispered, pushing back into him, urging him to start moving.

Rafe didn't need any further encouragement. He began to pound into you, his hips slamming into your ass with a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself being driven forward, your upper body bending over the back of the couch as Rafe's hands grasped your hips, holding you in place.

Just as you were getting into the rhythm, Rafe's hand reached up and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and straining your neck. You felt a surge of pain mixed with pleasure as you were forced to look back at him, your eyes locking with his.

"Look at me," Rafe growled, his eyes blazing with intensity. "I want to see your face when you come."

You couldn't help but obey, your eyes fixed on his as he continued to pound into you. His other hand reached around, his fingers rough and insistent as they rubbed your clit. You felt yourself building towards another climax, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Come on, baby," Rafe urged, his voice low and husky. "Come for me again."

You didn't need any further encouragement. As Rafe's fingers rubbed your clit, you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, your body shuddering with pleasure as you came for the second time. Your legs weakened, shaking beneath you as you felt Rafe's cum spill into you once again.

"Ah, fuck," Rafe groaned, his body stiffening as he came, his hips jerking forward in a final, spasmodic thrust. "Your pussy is so perfect, you're so hot...I couldn't hold back."

As he spoke, his hand released your hair, and you felt yourself collapse forward, your upper body slumping over the back of the couch. Rafe's arms wrapped around you, holding you in place as you both caught your breath, your bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasms.

"Fuck, that was good," Rafe whispered, his voice muffled against your ear. "You're so beautiful when you come."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction and pleasure wash over you.

As the last of the tremors subsided, Rafe gently lifted you up and laid you down on the couch, his body spooning yours as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt a sense of comfort and security wash over you, your body relaxing into his as you both caught your breath.

As you lay there, you couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness wash over you. It had been months since you'd felt this way, months since you'd felt like you could just let go and be yourself. But with Rafe, you felt like you could be vulnerable, like you could trust him to take care of you.

You snuggled deeper into his arms, feeling his warmth and his heartbeat against your back. His hand stroked your hair, gentle and soothing, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy.

"I'm so glad we're here again," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe's arms tightened around you, holding you close. "Me too," he whispered back. "I've missed you so much."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you thought about how much you'd missed him too. But for now, you just wanted to be in this moment, to savor the feeling of being back in his arms.

As you lay there, you felt your body start to relax, your muscles unwinding as you let go of all the tension and stress of the past few months. Rafe's body was warm and comforting, his presence a balm to your frazzled nerves that came from everything.

Before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep, your body intertwined with Rafe's as you both lay on the couch. You felt safe and protected, like nothing could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.

As you fell deeper into sleep, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. This was where you were meant to be, in Rafe's arms, surrounded by his love and his warmth. You knew that tomorrow would bring its own set of challenges, still having to rebuild from the turmoil his family caused, but for now, you just wanted to bask in the happiness of this moment.

And as you slept, Rafe's arms held you close, his body wrapped around yours like a shield. You knew that he would always be there for you, to protect you and to love you, no matter what. And with that knowledge, you felt your heart fill with joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

a/n- a couple of more posts before I take my break. Clearly this is hard for me to leave but I hate unfinished business. Thank you all for your support <3

Taglist + some moots <3 - @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @megiiite @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @angelicameron @maybankslover @etheraltides @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @xdaughterofpersephonex @leather-n-velvet @mima116 @urbrunettebombshell @pogueprincesa @purplerose291 @frankoceanluvr11 @ivysprophecy @starsmoonn @akobx @httpsdrewstarkey @anacamofficial @marleymarleymarleymarley @littlelamy @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @inthelibrarybtw @lillell467 @costalgirlyr @wtfisastiles @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew

Pity Party

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON (+ mentions of), toxic/abusive relationship, mentions of manipulation, dad!Rafe, established Rafe x reader

➥ While this can absolutely be read as a stand alone piece, it is also the much requested follow up to my WTPO series. I hope this doesn't disappoint!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

⭑

You slid along the floor using your knees, hand occupied by an even tinier one as your son unsteadily put one foot in front of the other. Your lips were pulled into a smile as you watched him, your free hand hovering behind his back for when he very likely would fall. Your other son was occupied with a snack, and when—as expected—the youngest one’s legs gave out, you scooped him up with a giggle.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “You’re going to be sprinting by this weekend.”

His cherubic face smiled back at you, lips wet with drool, and you wiped his mouth with a smile. Your oldest—now done with his Goldfish—was currently tugging on your dress, and when you looked down at him, he had a wide grin on his face.

“I wanna play with him…”

His soft voice had your own expression softening, and you quietly told him ‘okay’, taking a seat right on the floor where you were formerly standing. You emptied your hands, letting your son crawl around and slap at the ground as his brother followed him, face so close to his as he whispered things to him that he didn’t quite understand yet. You let your mind wander, warmth blooming in your chest as you thought about how…sweet they were.

There had been a time where you feared they wouldn’t be.

…and as you stared at them, you almost felt bad for ever thinking they could be anything less than angels, but it couldn’t be helped. They were children, and there were very few things in this world that were more innocent than children. They both came out squirming and pudgy and perfect—screaming their heads off and only calming once they were in your arms. They came into this world looking at you with the kind of eyes that had never experienced or done a single bad thing in their life.

They were children…babies…

…but they were Rafe’s babies.

And as much as you would like to, you would never be able to forget how they both came to be here. Fighting off Rafe Cameron was hard enough when you were going through a tumultuous breakup, but it became damn near impossible once he managed to get a ring on your finger and a prison around you in the form of a fancy house. You looked down at the large rock, a pang going through your chest at the sight of a simple gold band below it.

The wedding had been the grand fanfare it was expected to be, serving it’s purpose of making you the envy of every woman in Kildare County. Your oldest son—having been an only child at the time—was pulled down the aisle in a wagon with a pillow in his lap that contained the rings. Rose had gushed over you in the dressing room, long having convinced herself no woman would ever marry Rafe and she’d never get to experience this. Your father had cried as he handed you off to your husband to be, and tears had kissed your own eyes but just for an entirely different reason.

Your dress was made for a princess, and your veil was made for an angel, and your makeup was made for a doll. Everything was perfect, everything going off without a hitch. Absolutely nothing—not a single thing—had gone wrong, and even though by that point you’d slowly started to accept your fate…something in you had hoped. For what? You weren’t entirely sure.

You’d hoped that some crazy ex girlfriend of Rafe’s would stand up and object. You’d hoped that your brother would go against your wishes and drag you away from it all. Hell, you’d even hoped that someone would choke on their spit and require an ambulance. Deep down though, you’d known what you really hoped for.

You had hoped that Rafe would do the right thing…and let you go.

It was a silly hope. Rafe Cameron had gone through entirely too much trouble to ensure you’d never leave him, even going as far as threatening to take your son away from you. He—both of them—was the only good thing to come out of this. From the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’d wanted him all for yourself and far away from Rafe. The brunette simply didn’t deserve him, and you had no doubt that Rafe would agree, but his selfishness outweighed any thought of doing what was right. That had always been the case.

You didn’t know why you thought your wedding day might be any different.

Rafe moments away from chaining you to him forever? There was no shot in hell of him walking away from that, and you sighed at how naively hopeful you’d been that day. The sound of your oldest son’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked over just in time to see him jump to his feet, promptly sprinting towards the foyer. You weren’t worried, knowing exactly who it was that could elicit such a reaction from him.

You swallowed at the sound of Rafe’s voice, taking your 11-month old into your arms.

“...and how were my boys?”

He came into view as he said that, the messy haired little boy upside down in his arms as he kicked his feet and laughed.

You knew the question wasn’t meant for you.

“I was bad,” your son told him, and you fought back a smile, knowing why he said that.

Rafe’s gaze met yours, and the smile that threatened to ghost over your lips was gone. He merely smirked at the sight, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.

“Bad? Oh no,” he chuckled. “Why were you bad?”

“I accidentally spilled juice on mommy’s dress.”

Your son’s words came out small, slurring together a bit with his slight lisp. You’d told him that it was fine—accidents happen—but you knew why he was so hung up on it. As awful as Rafe treated you behind closed doors, he treated you a million times better for the whole world to see. He was smart that way, and the whole world included your children. They saw their dad treat mommy like a princess—none the wiser to what the true nature of your relationship was really like—and so they followed suit.

An offense against you—no matter how small—was especially heinous.

“Oh that is bad,” Rafe murmured, setting him down on his feet. “Guess we’ll have to buy her a new one, huh?”

He ruffled his hair, and your son beamed at the thought of going shopping.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as he neared you, an impressive feat when he came to kneel down before you. Your youngest was squirming in your arms—babbling—and you swallowed when Rafe reached out to lightly squish his cheeks. He pressed his lips to his tiny forehead just as his hand landed on your own cheek, and only then did you look at him.

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable. Your oldest was going on about something behind him that neither of you were giving too much attention to. His blue eyes looked between yours, studying you, and you could smell his cologne. After what felt like too long, his pink lips finally curved into that haughty half smile you were used to seeing.

It never not made you want to smack it right off of his face.

“...and how was mommy today?” he quietly asked.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say to him.

You wanted to say that mommy cried in the bathroom because she still had thoughts of leaving sometimes even at the loss of her own children, but then she’d remember how much she loved them and couldn’t live without them and the guilt would set in. You wanted to tell him that mommy’s thigh still hurt from where he’d sank his teeth into it the night before for daring to tell him she still hated him sometimes. You even started to tell him that mommy had rare moments here and there where she’d momentarily forget their history and find herself content in this big house with her children and fancy ring until she remembered how her children got here and what said house and ring represented.

You didn’t say any of that though.

Instead, you merely blinked at Rafe, and told him what you always did.

“Mommy was fine.”

The vase narrowly missed Rafe’s head, his quick reflexes making your heart sink with disappointment. Your own quick thinking had you frantically looking around for something else to throw at him, but his feet moved faster than your brain, and he was nearing you before you made up your mind. Unable to stomach being around him, right now, you hurriedly sprinted to the other side of the room. You paid no mind to the way he called your name, a blend of anger and exasperation there.

“Are you done…?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your angry gaze on the floor. Besides, you didn’t have to in order to know what he looked like. You could imagine it perfectly—steely blue eyes cold and intently focused on you, hands on his hips and jaw clenched so hard you’d swear it was about to break. When you finally did glance at him, you were proven right.

“This little…” he waved his hand about. “...tantrum. You’re finished?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

You couldn’t hold in your tears, and they spilled over without your permission. Rafe sucked his teeth at the sight, and when he took a step towards you, you made to leave the living room completely. Your sons were with your mom—they would be the whole weekend—because that was the plan. They would stay with grandma for a few days while you went to Charlotte to visit Pope at school. Rafe was supposed to be handling business with Ward, anyway.

He was not supposed to be sabotaging your plans and canceling car rentals and flights and ruining your entire weekend.

Rafe stopped you before you could get far, and you didn’t even attempt to get away, too defeated and upset to smack him square across the face like you wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, and you wondered if a light bruise would be there in the morning. You could tell by the way he held you that he was upset, but you didn’t understand what he had to be upset about. It had been four years since Rafe started this fucked up dynamic he called a family and over two since you’d reluctantly said ‘I do’. You even gave him another son…and yet…

It was clear now that he still didn’t trust you.

Sure, you had the stray thought or two here and there about escaping, but when it was all said and done, those were just thoughts. Your children meant too much to you to just take off, and even if you ever got to that point one day where you’d happily sacrifice their chance to grow up with a mother just to have your own freedom, Rafe would never let that happen. Your fate was sealed from the very moment he’d decided you were it for him.

“I haven’t seen my brother in months. It’s his last year of school, and I didn’t want the next time I see him to be at his Goddamn graduation,” you spat, lips trembling. “You said you were okay with it!”

“Yeah, I was,” Rafe replied in a tone that hinted at more to come.

You were right.

“...but then I remembered that this would be the first time we’d be apart for a distance more than thirty miles and how way up there in Charlotte you could disappear to wherever you wanted and-.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if we had a normal relationship,” you cut him off, a sneer on your lips. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of me running away from you if you’d never hurt me and raped me and damn near threatened me into marrying you.”

At those words, Rafe let you go as if you burned him, and you reminded yourself how much Rafe hated to be reminded of why you were really here. You were positive he sometimes convinced himself that this relationship was as real as it could be—the perfect parents with the perfect children and the perfect marriage. After all, it was what everyone on the outside saw when they were looking in.

The difference between the two of you it seemed was that you knew it was all pretend.

Rafe liked to believe that it wasn’t.

“All of that aside…do you really think I’d leave them?”

Your question came out whispered, and you didn’t miss the slight twitch in Rafe’s face. Leave them…not leave him. Rafe was smart in knowing that knocking you up would be the only thing to truly prevent you from leaving, and yet he absolutely hated to be reminded of it. To be reminded that it was not—and never would be—him keeping you here.

His expression morphed, a shadow passing over his features as he glanced away, shoving a hand into his pocket.

“I can’t take that chance,” was all he said, making more tears spill over. “Pope’s not going anywhere. You can always see him another time.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth in anger, and when he reached for you, he was stopped by a harsh slap to the cheek. Your lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and you just stared at him as he rubbed his face.

“You have taken so much from me, Rafe,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “If your goal is to make sure we’re both absolutely miserable…then keep it up.”

You turned away from him, refusing to spare him another look as you made your way upstairs to unpack your suitcase.

Most days in your marriage were okay. They weren’t awful, and they weren't’ exactly anything you’d jump at the chance to relive. They were simply just…okay. On those days, Rafe would wake you up with a kiss, sometimes more than that, and you’d start your day—usually something that consisted of preparing for your children to wake up. They made those days stand a chance at being somewhat enjoyable, and you thought to yourself that maybe one day when they were old enough, you’d tell them how much they did for you without even knowing.

On the days where your marriage wasn’t okay, you were usually overcome with how you really felt about Rafe. Those days didn’t come as often as they used to—a fact you didn’t like to let your mind linger on—but when they did, they usually ended in your tears.

…and Rafe pinning you down and just taking what he wanted.

Rafe had felt entitled to your body long before he put the ring on your finger, but after you took his last name, his entitlement went to an entirely new level. You recalled a day where you had the house to yourselves and how silly you’d been to think Rafe would respect your wish to be alone.

“Do you know what this means?” he’d harshly asked, squeezing your left hand as he held it up for both of you to see.

The 4-carat marquise solitaire glinted under the bright kitchen light.

“It means you’re my wife, it means you’re mine,” he’d hissed, getting in real close and touching your nose with his. “Do you get how patient I’ve been? How patient I am?”

You’d shrank away from him, wincing at the slight pain in your left hand.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but it’s been years,” he’d told you. “There’s a ring on your finger and two little boys walking around with my face. You need to suck it up!”

The counter had been harsh against your stomach as he bent you over it.

The good days in your marriage were even more rare, and even those ended in you feeling sad for yourself. It was usually a whole day of your boys keeping a smile on your face, the feeling so infectious that even Rafe couldn’t make it go away. And that’s how you’d find yourself smiling at him and playing with your children together and actually acting like a family. Only…on those rare days…it wasn’t acting. For just several hours, everything that Rafe was and everything he’d done would be so far from your mind.

You’d find yourself bathing your youngest together—your oldest only listening to you when it was time to wash behind his ears—cooing over the baby that was just shy of turning one years old. You’d let your son run into your arms as he hid from the ‘tickle monster’, playfully pushing at Rafe’s chest as you protected the three year old from him. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep with your head so close to Rafe’s lap as he read to them, your son begging you both to stay until he fell asleep.

Of all the days in your marriage that you’d anticipated being the hardest, the ‘good’ days were not among them. Reality would set in during the morning, sometimes even that same night, and your chest would ache as you held back tears because what you and Rafe had was not real. It wasn’t a real marriage, and you weren’t a real family, and on those days where you forgot that, the truth just hit so much harder. All of the anger and disappointment would come back…and then the fear would set in.

It scared you how easily you could slip into that headspace and live in some alternate reality where Rafe was a good husband and your children hadn’t been the product of rape and you didn’t have errant thoughts of what it would be like to be free of him. It scared you how good it felt to forget it all, how a day might come where instead of finding yourself slipping into that mindset, you just…chose it.

It would be so easy.

…but you felt like you owed it to yourself to hate him forever.

Sometimes he made hating him so easy…and then other times so, so hard.

“They’re so sweet to you,” he murmured in the low lighting, both of your kids fast asleep in their room. 

You’d been trying to find sleep of your own, but Rafe’s phone call with Ward left you both up long after you wanted to be. You were unfortunately wide awake when slid in beside you, and your unopened eyes didn’t fool Rafe in the slightest. He knew you were awake.

“I would hope so,” you murmured, staring at the back of your eyelids as he lightly traced patterns into your satin covered stomach.

Your husband chuckled to himself.

“I mean they look at you like you hung the moon,” he quietly continued. “Especially your shadow…”

He was referring to your oldest.

“I’m barely there for him whenever you’re in the same room,” he whispered. “He’s happy that I’m home and he hugs me, but then it’s straight back to mommy.”

You slowly opened your eyes as Rafe’s hand became flat against your stomach, gently rubbing it.

“He treats you like a princess…”

You met his gaze at that, and you couldn’t quite place the look in Rafe’s eyes.

“...and I’m especially happy about it on days when I don’t.”

You sighed at that, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m glad that he’s nothing like me…”

You remembered Rafe saying something similar years ago before the boy in question had even been born, and you blinked as he leaned in, gently ghosting his lips over your cheek. You were tempted to push him away, but then you asked yourself if you wanted to start a fight so late in the night. Instead, you turned your head to face Rafe, your lips a hair’s width away from his own.

“I’m glad he’s nothing like you too,” you whispered.

You didn’t miss the way his face fell at that, a tick in his jaw that told you your words had the desired effect. Instead of saying something along the lines of what you both knew he wanted to say, Rafe merely heaved a sigh, still gently rubbing your stomach. He suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking down at you.

A smirk ghosted over his lips.

“I want another baby.”

Those words were the last thing you’d been expecting, and your eyes widened just a tad.

“...what?”

“Let’s try for a girl this time,” he suggested, and realizing that he was indeed serious, you sat up.

His hand fell away from your stomach.

“This time?” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “I don’t recall trying for anything the previous times.”

The mention of what he did to you had Rafe going silent, and when you looked at him, his nostrils were flaring.

“It can be different this time-.”

“How?” you wondered, frowning at him. “How will it be different this time? The only time I touch you is when I’m forced to, and I don’t know, that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me.”

Rafe’s hand had circled around your chin before you had time to react—he was sitting up now too—and you both just cooly stared at each other. He looked like he wanted to hurt you, and you stared back, just waiting for him to prove you right. He seemed to be toying with the thought, and after a few moments, he slowly exhaled through his nose.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his blue eyes following the action.

A million thoughts were racing through his mind, that much you could tell by the emotions that flickered over his features. Eventually he settled on one, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re not always unhappy…”

It was said like a statement, but there was a lilt there that told you he wanted an answer.

“No,” you eventually responded, honestly. “Not always.”

He nodded.

“...but I’m unhappy more than I’m happy.”

He closed his eyes at that, and you swallowed.

“What did you expect, Rafe? Sure, four years is a lot, but it’s also not when I think about everything you did to me.”

He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. You watched him stand there, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

“...and what makes it worse is that you’re not even sorry. I know how much you want me to ‘just get over it’, but how am I expected to get over it when we both know you’d do it all over again so long as it got you the same result?” you choked out. “You’re not sorry for any of it.”

You blinked away tears.

“...and now you’re mad at me so much because I won’t roll over and play house.”

You saw his shoulders heave, and you could tell how much this conversation was frustrating him. Rafe really hated to be reminded of his own actions, hated to be reminded of the fact that your relationship was where it was because of him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were the one trapped in this gilded cage…not him.

“So, if you want another baby…” you quietly started. “...either something needs to change…or you just embrace the beast we both know you can be.”

His eyes snapped to yours at that, and as much as it made your heart skip a beat, Rafe rarely scared you anymore. You’d seen him and experienced him at his absolute worst. There really wasn’t much he could do to you anymore that would shock you…and he knew it. 

His baby blues glinted dangerously, and you bit your tongue.

He did the opposite of what you expected, and you watched him turn away from you to leave the room. You didn’t relax, knowing he’d come back, but you did heave a tired sigh, telling yourself that sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Rafe’s hand tightened around your throat as he kissed you, the alcohol on your tongue making the kiss taste sweet. The world was moving so slow around you, and every place that Rafe touched felt like you were being gently electrocuted. Deep in the crevices of your mind, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn’t kissed Rafe like this in years, not since the early days of your relationship when you thought you might have loved him, and butterflies were in your stomach at one look from him.

You recalled the sight of your empty wine glass on the carpet, the rest of the red wine you didn’t drink staining the white fabric.

Your kids were asleep and the house was quiet and you were kissing your husband like you used to—back when he wasn’t your husband. Rafe had your back to the wall just barely on the inside of your bedroom, your hand struggling to reach out to the door. Rafe grabbed it, threading his fingers through your own, and you made a slight noise of protest.

He made a shushing noise into the kiss.

“Just relax…”

Relax.

That word triggered something in you, and you pressed your other hand to his chest. You were far too relaxed to be sober, and considering you only had one glass of wine, you knew that other substances were at play here. You recalled Rafe voicing his desire for another baby just the other day…and you recalled the slight back and forth it’d created. You expected one of two things out of Rafe, but neither of them included a scenario where you were too inebriated to properly fight back against him.

There was something especially sinister about Rafe creating this false sense of consent.

His lips traveled down towards your neck as he bent his head, and you felt like you didn’t have control over your body as you threw your head back. You shakily exhaled when both of his hands descended towards your waist, lifting you and forcing you towards the California king. When he settled you both onto it, all pretense was gone.

“Don’t you want a little girl?” he whispered against your skin, his fingers dancing along the place from where your shirt had ridden up. “Hmm? I know you get sick of being with just us boys.”

You made a noise that was unintelligible even to your ears, pushing at his head, but it was of no use. Whatever he slipped into your drink clearly wasn’t in his, Rafe having all of his strength and wits about him as he pinned you down. He kissed you again—slow—as his hands circled around your wrists. It took your breath away, and your lashes fluttered when he descended.

“A princess for my princess…”

You reached out to place a hand on the bed to steady yourself. Although you knew it was the room spinning, not you, and so focused on that, you didn’t even realize what Rafe was doing until the cool air you’d briefly felt against your core was replaced by his mouth. The action made your back arch, and—against your will—you reached down to press your hand against his head.

He hummed in between your thighs.

“You never let me do this anymore,” you heard him whisper, his breath against your skin before he dived back in.

To be fair, you never let him do anything, but especially this. It was too intimate, too loving, and those words were so far from the true nature of your relationship it wasn’t even funny. After all, Rafe was now at a place where he had to drug you just to get you to stop fighting against him. You found it interesting because he never minded the fight before. In fact, you’d even say that some part of him enjoyed it.

You wondered what had changed.

His head moved back and forth between your thighs, and it made you squirm. One of Rafe’s hands reached up to dig into your leg, holding you still. The other found your hand, and you were unable to remember that you didn’t like holding his hand. Another gesture that you felt was too intimate, something Rafe always liked to pretend that your relationship was.

Just when you were on the brink of coming all over his tongue, your husband pulled away, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh. With stars just barely floating in your vision, you laid there, eyes falling closed as you fought to regulate your breathing.

A voice in your head told you that you didn’t want this, and that you needed to get up…but you couldn’t find the strength to.

When Rafe’s hands were on you again, they were pulling away every piece of fabric they touched, and you couldn’t help the tears that kissed your eyes. Being forced to feign compliance in your own assault somehow hurt a thousand times worse than if Rafe had simply grabbed you and held you down. You wondered if this made it easier on him, and you thought about how much Rafe hated being reminded of the things he did to you.

It was like it hurt him to remember it that way, to acknowledge it for what it was.

When he slid into you, you couldn’t help the small whimper you let out, eyes rolling as he stretched you out. Rafe’s hands were on you, pulling you closer, and as if your arms had a mind of their own, you threw them around him. His chest was pressed to yours as he thrust into you, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He cursed when he sank into you again, and your toes curled.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.

“...have to drug my own wife just to get her to fuck me…”

Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back, and Rafe hummed at the feeling. You’d forgotten what it felt like to lie beneath him and just let him have his way with you. It felt like so long since he hadn’t had to force you down and take his cock despite what you may have wanted. Although, your current position wasn’t all that different, but you couldn’t ignore how relaxed you were from whatever he’d slipped you.

Rafe shifted, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. His blue eyes glinted in the low lighting, and you blearily blinked up at him as he gazed down at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours while still holding your gaze. Your lips parted at a particularly hard thrust, and the corner of his lips curved upwards at the sight.

Deep in the back of your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but it was for so many reasons that you were struggling to remember. For the time being, all you could focus on was the curve of his cock as he repeatedly pushed it into you and how good it made you feel. One of your legs hooked around his waist, and Rafe’s perfect teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“I missed this, beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

The bed jostled from your movements, and Rafe glanced down between you to watch himself disappear into you. 

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he told you, making your heart skip a beat and reminding you of how and why you’d found yourself in this position in the first place. “Can’t wait to see you swollen and round again and fucking glowing.”

You murmured his name, but you couldn’t tell if it was in protest or not.

Your mind was all over the place, and when Rafe’s hips curved into yours again, you arched your chest up into his. Sweat clung to your frame, and you briefly wondered how made you would be at him in the morning. You knew this wouldn’t be his only attempt—Rafe always proving to be more than thorough when trying for a baby—and you now weakly wondered about having to be cautious of the food in your own house.

You could tell when he was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his breathing picking up. He started  to kiss you more, each kiss becoming  messier and more open mouthed than the last. In your inebriated state of mind, you kissed him back, alarm bells going off deep within your bones. Your own breathing was labored, like you couldn’t get air into your lungs fast enough.

When Rafe came the first time—and you knew that it would be the first of the night—he grunted in your ear as he spilled into you. Your nails were trailing along his skin as he plunged his cock into you, not even stopping when you felt him start to soften, lazily thrusting into your folds. Your own climax was just around the corner when he spoke.

“I will fuck you all night,” he whispered against your cheek, his tone vaguely threatening. “I will fuck you as many times as it takes until you give me what I want.”

He leaned back a bit, his nose touching yours as he tilted his head, eyeing you in a way that made your skin grow cold.

“...and I will do whatever I have to to make you…” he looked between your unfocused eyes. “...agreeable.”