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callmemickey · 10 months

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Cumming Home for Christmas

synopsis: Simon surprised you by being home 3 weeks early, which means you get to take him to your family’s Christmas get together! Unfortunately, Simon hasn’t had his fill of you… How thin do you think the walls are in the bathroom?

content: Afab, porn w a plot, smut (dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, quickie, slightly public? maybe other stuff idk) fluff fluff fluff kind of angst if you squint real hard he just loves you sm my sweet Angel babey reader muah love u 2

word count: 3.7k

notes: Don’t ask me why I chose Christmas this is purely self-indulgent. Also, he’s a brunette going off of the comics, so I’m running with that thx!

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm Christmas lights, sparkling ciders and the expensive alcohol, the soft hum of cozy Christmas jazz on the speakers, family buzzing and soaking in each other’s presence - there was nothing else you could ask for. In this massive sea of black and red formal attire, your family, both close and extended, came together for an amazing holiday party at your grandparents’ estate.

Simon, who surprised you by coming home over three weeks early, has accompanied you as your plus one to the family’s holiday party. It made the event even better. Your family adored Simon to bits and pieces, constantly embarrassing you in front of him, begging to know when he wanted to start a family with you, your aunts drinking too much and asking him to take off his coat and flex. He dealt with the melting pot of clashing personalities better than you had ever imagined.

Simon expertly handled the socializing carefully and precisely. He preferred to be an observer in these bigger settings rather than to speak. He gave simple answers that were concise one liners, saving his social battery. So, to make up for it, he would escape to assist anybody needing aid. When dinner was ready, he assisted in the kitchen, making sure that everybody had their meals first, and was later caught cleaning the kitchen (much to your displeasure). He also helped light your grandfather’s cigar outside. The Parkinson’s has been making it difficult for him to light them on his own, and Simon even listened to an old war story.

It was unbelievable how much you loved this man.

Now, nieces and nephews weaved between adults and furniture, the fireplace burned hot and strong, people laughed and yelled happily over the gentle music, and the scent of baking pies and pastries wafted and filled the air. Your lovely military fiancé, overworked and tired on his break, did so well to deal with this. Of course, Simon, being an incredibly selfless person willing to compromise in any situation or scenario just to make you happy, said that it was alright when you invited him. “Nothing would make me happier,” he had said in a low, roughened voice - which was right before he buried his face between your legs.

But I digress.

Simon stood next to you as your uncle told you both in absolute monotony about his recent trip to Italy, “So beautiful. Your aunt Amelia and I want to get a vacation home there.” He finished, and you nodded awkwardly. “Sounds like you and aunt Millie had a great time, uncle Mike.” Your tone was dry while Simon nodded and hummed in response. He just wasn’t… very present.

Simon had his attention and focus set on pretty high at the beginning of the night, but he was able to relax a little bit since then, to let himself just be in the moment - or so the psychiatrist says he should. He was actively paying attention to the conversation, yes that is true, but the hand holding your waist began to… wander, a little bit. Slowly at first, but much faster now. With a hand that started on your shoulder in the beginning of the night, bit by bit lowered down your back, smoothing above the top of your ass and to your hip. Fingers pressing deep into the black velvet of your dress, Simon tried to keep you caged next to him. That didn’t matter though, because you would have done little to resist him.

You two shared a quick glance. His dark brown eyes were slightly glossed, his gaze a salaciousness that he always brings home. Ooh, it made you want to rub your thighs together just to feel something. You nodded again to your uncle Mike when he brought up something else that was equally boring. Simon, having a better idea and use for his time, suddenly seemed to have remembered something, “Apologies, Mike, but Y/N and I have to make an important phone call.” You looked up at him.

That brief look in his eye was so, so hungry. The greed brewed like a dark storm. You felt a hot chill race down your spine, your core began to burn. You acted as if you remembered the same ‘something’ as well. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we almost forgot!” You gasped in a low voice. His fingers squeezed your hip, making your chest slowly fall into shallow breaths as you could imagine him purring in your ear.

Good girl.

You two waved him off as you turned to leave the kitchen. Simon took the wine glass from your hand and placed it on the countertops as you two walked through the doorway. His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you into the dark hallway. The armoire in the middle lit with warm candles that smelled of cinnamon and spiced apples, casting shadows that bounced and flickered across the walls. It helped light your way to the restroom, but it also kept you two enveloped in shadows to help hide whatever sins you were going to commit. Simon, without a word, opened the bathroom, and with nobody inside, he sweeped you in, locking the door behind you two.

The bathroom had warm string lights strung across the crown molding, and a window with fake candles sat high on the wall. The room was a little loud with the echoes, so you smacked the switch on the wall to turn the fan on, hoping to mask whatever sounds were going to flood the room.

Not even a second, in such a calculated move, Simon plucked his mask off and had your lips locked with his as he hoisted you onto the sink counter. All you could do in that flurry of movement was gasp, his hands gingerly holding your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing as you felt a hardened tent in his trousers press eagerly against your clothed cunt.

You ran your hands through his dark brown hair, a moan running from you into him as his hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze. He ground his hips into you, pulling a whimper from you as he pressed roughly against your thrumming clit. Simon broke from your mouth, kissing your neck as his fingers pushed up into your dress, grabbing your panties.

“Quiet - or they’ll hear us,” he whispered against your flesh. You panted with a nod as he slipped your panties off, tossing them onto the floor along with his jacket. Simon quickly unbuttoned his white sleeves, rolling them up to reveal his heavily veined forearms, his one arm tattooed with black. He expertly undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slightly, his hardened cock springing free.

He kept kissing your neck, lightly sucking to tease but not enough to hickey or bruise. His fingers dipped into your embarrassingly wet sex, rubbing at your clit and folds before pushing two fingers into you. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, so wet already.” His voice was a growl against your neck, slowly pumping them, his fingers rubbing up against that spongy spot inside.

It caused you to mewl. Simon’s one hand jumped to cup your mouth shut, making you gasp. The movement threw you off balance, your upper back falling back to press against the mirror while grabbing onto his wrist for support. He continued to finger you and hold your mouth closed, your whimpers mumbled in his hand.

Just as quick as you just started grinding your hips, he pulled his fingers away. A disappointed moan left broken up between your mouth and his palm. Simon grabbed his cock and started to pump himself, lubricating it with your juices before rubbing against your clit. He moved his hand from your mouth down to your hip.

You whimpered, “Oh my god, Simon.” Your hips wriggled and bucked against the dizzying sensation. He chuckled, slowly pressing his cock into your hot, wet cunt. The familiar stretch made you hum in need. “You’re gonna tease me? On Christmas?” You whined, your legs once again wrapped around his hips, urging him to sink into you.

“Ahh, have you been a good girl, though?” He asked in a low rumble, his other hand grabbing the other hip, his prepared stance making your hole clench around his member. He had a half-lidded stare, swirling with a level of lust you couldn’t really see the end of - bottomless and ravenous. Simon towered over you.

“I’m always a good girl for you, Simon,” You cooed.

He slowly pushed in, making you inhale sharply as you stretched so wide to allow him to fit. You held your breath as he pushed his cock through. “I’m just teasing, love - I know you’ll always be my good girl,” he said with warmth in his voice.

His tip kissed your cervix as he nestled fully, deeply, completely. Your head rolled back on the mirror as a satisfied sigh escaped you, but Simon’s grip on your hips tightened intensely. You gasped as he began a fast pace, his hips slapping loudly against your thighs and echoing in the bathroom. It was almost too much. It gave you little time to prepare for his entering, but you settled nicely around him after a few more thrusts.

Simon wasn’t normally this fast. He loved to hit with hard strokes, but nothing typically of this pace. Fortunately, you weren’t one to complain. It was so goddamn good. You hate it when your fiancé is away, not knowing where he was for most of the time, but when he’s gone for so long and comes back? Fuck. It’s criminal how good the sex is. His impatience made it impeccable.

But you were desperate. You wanted to cry and moan and yell, to beg and pray for him to bring you to a higher plane of pleasure. Oh, God, you would do anything for it, anything for him. You grasped at his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving stinging crescent moon shaped imprints in their path. He groaned lightly at your sharp grip, a soft chuckle coming from him. “Oh, you like this?” He asked, and you nodded, biting your lower lip to keep anything but your gasps, pants, and squeaks from escaping.

“Touch yourself,” his voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a demand.

With one hand still on Simon’s arm, the other moved to your clit, and you began to rub in quick circles. Simon watched your face twist and change: your mouth hanging open as you panted, but occasionally closed to bite your lip so to stop yourself from moaning; eyes half-lidded, barely open, glazed, and painfully horny; back bowing and arching, your toes curling, body just at a loss at what it can handle. This was Simon’s favorite view in the world. It’s what he came home for. It’s what he fought for.

A moan tumbled from your mouth as you held on for dear life. “S-Simon!” You whined his name, the heat inside of you burning red hot, uncontrolled, and rampant.

“S’alright love,” his voice was soft, “you gonna cum?”

You nodded quickly, the fingers on your clit stuttering as you found your release fast approaching, his almost brutal pace not slowing in the slightest. “I’m gonna c- ah- cum, Simon!” You struggled not to say too loud. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, Y/N,” he ushered, “cum for me.” Simon knew how to drive you over the edge. His hand reached out, firmly but gently cupping over your mouth to keep your head in place - and to push back your lascivious sounds.

A moan found itself trapped, lodged in your throat as you fought with your whole might not to yell and cry out. Your orgasm ripped through and crashed over you like a tsunami. He had unraveled you.

Your back arched, and you couldn’t roll your head back. Your lashes flickered as you struggled to keep your eyes from crossing or rolling back to look at Simon while you came. The fingers you had on your clit stopped moving as you were paralyzed, but the grip you had on his forearm stayed strong, “Ahhh, fuckin’ look at you. That’s a good girl, cummin’ nice and pretty on my cock. You like that, yeah?” He groaned, hips putting in more power to drill into your tightened pussy, tears pricking at your eyes as the orgasm left your legs shaking around him.

Simon retracted his hand, grabbing back at your hip. You let out a quick, small cry as your free hand held back onto his forearm. “Y’alright, love?” He grunted, and you nodded furiously before he could stop, but he started slowing down. You didn’t want him too. “Need- I need you,” you gasped, “don’t stop, Simon.” You whimpered.

Oh, to be buried deep inside your pussy was all he could have ever hoped for upon coming home. Y/N, ever so kind and giving. Simon tightened his hands around your hips again and began the brutal pace as you struggled to keep silent.

That’s when you felt your body heating up again. Your sex thrummed with the building pleasure and excitement once more, causing you to moan while you held onto his wrists. A light sheen of sweat sat on your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your flesh.

Simon moaned softly with a smirk, your fucked out expression and legs lazily clinging onto his hips was such an amazing sight. The snapping of him against you had beat your pussy red, leaving it angrily aroused. “You gonna cum again? Yeah? Ahhh, thas my needy girl.” Desperate, tiny grunts popped out of you with each thrust, your pussy swallowing Simon deeply.

“Si-Simon! Gonna- c-cum!” You gasped out with each pump.

Your orgasm hit like a rapid flash of heat and pleasure. A squeal escaped you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back, legs around Simon’s waist tightened, your whole body trembled from his unrelenting pace. Your face was flushed red, eyes completely glazed and lost as your hair stuck to your face.

“Ah, f-fuck, so fuckin’ tight. So good - my girl is so good, God, cummin’ on my cock, just like that.” He growled, his hips slowly beginning to fall off rhythm while his orgasm began to creep up on him.

You moaned and begged, “Ah, Simon, nngh, I-I can’t- please cum!”

“Don’t you worry, g-gonna cum inside this pretty pussy,” Simon groaned, “gonna fill you up, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as your body screamed in overstimulation. “Please, I- ah! Too much, ah, you’re too much, Simon!” You cried out, your ever tightening cunt being stretched open, begging for his release.

“Y/N- Y/N, fuck!” He hissed as his hips slammed against you, tightly holding his cock against your cervix as if he was threatened to be ripped away. He groaned, emptying himself into you completely, his cock jerking and flexing harshly, making the veins on his shaft more pronounced. You whimpered, your cunt tensing around him as you felt hot waves shooting inside of you. He stayed for a moment while panting, his thighs shaking slightly, relishing in the feeling as oxytocin and dopamine flooded his brain. Simon pulled out, a throaty groan leaving you at the sudden emptiness, your legs letting go of him.

“Well… let’s hope nobody heard that.” Simon said in a low voice, pulling up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt and grabbing your panties for you. You slid off of the sink and inhaled sharply as your knees buckled. He immediately latched onto your arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, y’alright?” He asked, slowly loosening his grip to make sure you were okay on your own.

“My legs, Simon. Jesus Christian Christ - I can’t stand.” You huffed, leaning against the sink, glowering at him as you took your panties from his hand, embarrassed.

He unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them. “You’re really gonna talk like that? On Jesus’ birthday?” He looked at you as he grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. “What would your nan say, hmm?” He feigned sincerity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he swung the jacket on.

“Well, the jokes on you because Christmas isn’t even Jesus’ birthday.” You snapped back at him, slowly sliding your underwear on as your knees shook like a newborn giraffe. He tutted in disapproval as he moved up to you.

Simon’s body was close, his body radiating warmth. He wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, which was alright, so when he took the time to be attentive to you… you always melted against him immediately. His finger lightly hooked under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Your body subconsciously gravitated towards him, like a moth seeing the moon for the very first time.

He leaned down, lips brushing so close to yours, your eyes still connected . “Fuck what day it really is - I just know I’m home.” Simon pushed in for a deep kiss, brimming with emotions, the kinds he couldn’t really say. As he pulled away, he couldn’t help but admire you.

The golden candlelight fluttered across his face. His tired but warm eyes studied you, as if seeing you for the first time, memorizing and mapping every freckle, wrinkle, and spot, because he’s scared that the moment he looks away, he’ll forget. He took in your flushed, messy appearance as if God himself sent down a heavenly body to give him a reason not just to fight, but to live; an angel on its mission as a guide, and he would willingly martyr himself on the ground at your feet if it meant he could just hear you say his name. Once.

Simon wanted to say these things, but he wouldn’t. He might never. But that’s alright, too. Not everyone is meant to love so boldly.

You cocked an eyebrow as he stared at you so intensely. “You okay there, Lieutenant?” You asked, a small smile on your lips.

He realized that, yes, it was alright that he didn’t say those things. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have to - you just knew. Everyday he thought about how he didn’t deserve you. You, ever so loyal and strong. You’ve given him a purpose, motive, after all of these years - alone.

He often wondered what he had done to deserve having someone like you in his life. Someone who loved and cultivated, with hands of soft mercy, so tender and kind. A voice of validation, honesty, reason, all stemming from your unconditional love. If he had met you years ago, before the therapy and psychiatry helped, he would’ve let your fingers prick and bleed as you grasped at his thorns while he plucked you of your petals, leaving you broken and bare.

He didn’t deserve you.

Simon returned the smile, his voice soft, “Never better.” His hands moved to hold your waist as you two shared a few more kisses. “You know I like it when you call me that,” he hummed in between the lip locking.

You moaned gently and teasingly bit his bottom lip, your hands pressing against and gliding up his shirt. You kissed his jawline and sighed, “Is that so, Lieutenant Riley?”

He squeezed your waist in a warning. “Careful, love, we don’t have time for round two. Save it for tonight.” Your pussy purred just as Simon pulled away, picking up the mask from the sink and putting it back on in an attempt to obscure his identity.

You hummed, legs still a little shaken. “Well, I might need a minute to get my feet under me. You… okay with managing my family alone?” You asked hesitantly, eyes slightly squinting as if to flinch. He studied you for a moment, eyes glancing you up and down. It made you a little self-conscious, causing you to shift.

“Of course, Y/N,” his tone was reassuring, and subtly professional, “you sure you want me to leave you? Just say the word, love.”

Your body relaxed a little, and you nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

Simon faltered, if for a moment, before he gave you a soft squeeze on the arm, and left. You sighed, turning to lean onto the counter and fix your hair in the mirror. Your legs really were shaking, much to your surprise. Yes, yes, Simon makes you shake plenty, but he doesn’t always fuck that hard, if rarely. You couldn’t be more embarrassed. Sending your fiancé, who is not the biggest people-person, back to the wolves, but it’d be more embarrassing if you walked out there in your current state.

You fixed your dress and made sure you were able to stand properly again after a few minutes. Making sure your hair, makeup, and dress were all still together, you left the bathroom with caution. You quietly snuck down the hallway, back against the wall. You got to the doorway and peeked around the corner to peer into the party.

You don’t know how long you were in the bathroom for as the crowd surprisingly died down. Family members left for home, hotels, or whatever bedrooms your grandparents had available, so the end-of-the-night afterparty was intimate and calm. You inched into the room, eyes falling on Simon, who was outside with your grandfather, lighter in his hand.

You smiled gingerly as your mother called you over. “Sweetie, everybody loves Simon. I know he isn’t much of a talker, or a hugger, but he made a great impression.” Her voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “He also listens to your grandfather’s stories, bless his heart.” She cooed. Your mother continued to speak, but her voice drowned out as you watched your future husband.

Simon stood at ease, with his hands held together and relaxed behind him as your grandfather engaged him in a story, puffing his cigar shakily as his hands trembled while he was animated. It was so calm and serene, watching him nod, the ghost of his jawline moving beneath the mask as he spoke. Your heart fluttered as Simon’s eyes flicked over and locked onto you, giving a little wink before turning his attention back to the present conversation.

Okay, you’re definitely sitting on his face tonight.

#simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost Riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut #ghost

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puphoods · 2 years

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man i dont listen to it as much anymore but i still think how to be a human being is one of my favourite albums ever. if not my absolute favourite

#chirps #its just so. you know #i know ive said but i used to listen to it legit on repeat every single day id listen to it in the car with my mum #on the way to work and back which was a 45 minute trip. she hates me sm

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itsonlyanapple · 2 years

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Trip

She's hard at work when the sun goes down,

Walking by the river with a crown

Of streetlights following her home,

With change for the slot, I pick up the phone.

She tells me again she'll be home by ten,

I know how she rolls, now and again,

Over the bridge, to the far bus stop,

She likes the view better, gazing over rooftops,

The lights flicker like they do within my own eyes,

I bury myself in the depths of our queen-sized.

I yawn, and so does she, I like to imagine,

It's routine, but not machine, homemade with pins

In place, and as I drift off with the image of her

And me, together, under our handsewn covers, I hear her enter.

She smiles and says, I told you I'd be home by ten.

She trips me up and I'm falling again.

[Seventh day of Inktober. Prompt: Trip]

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stars4chratt · 2 months

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Subconscious

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Again, smut / use of drugs / confessing / cocky to sub!Matt / softdom!reader / high sex (i do not condone this in any way guys, just a fair warning) / praise / stoner!Matt / grinding / handjob / vanilla(ish) / mommy kink / pet names (sweetheart, princess, mommy, etc etc) / a trip (no pun) / aftercare / a lot of swearing

Summary: The reader and Matt have been the best of friends ever since they were eleven. As they got older, the more vulnerable they were to alcohol and drugs. Matt would always be by her side getting high and drunk at desolate and abandoned parks, or maybe even in Matt’s room. Matt and the reader agreed to only stick to natural stuff like weed. But now, they’re taking it up a notch by taking a round and earthy psychedelic.

Author’s Note: stoner Matt > as i’m writing this i have Matt’s recorded twitch streams playing in the back. MY BAD I KEEP ADDING THE SWEETHEART PET NAME WITH MATT I JS LOVE IT SM ESP AFTER THE BAGS TT. Anyways, this wasn’t requested or anything this is something i just really wanted to write because i love it when there's a best friend trope weaved in <3 HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY. From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Are we still friends? Can we be friends?” - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?, TYLER THE CREATOR

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Matt has always had an obsession with spirituality and the 60s. From the posters of Jimi Hendrix on his walls, to the deluxe edition Beatles vinyl records that sit alongside the vintage record player on his hardwood dresser.

Ever since Matt’s dad bought a collection of thrifted CDs for his car when he was only a toddler, he fell in love with psychedelic rock and the whole new era of love and peace and tranquil that came around in the mid to late 20th century.

Whenever he isn’t in his cramped and maximalist abode smoking bubba kush, he’s out going to underground stores which sell abstract and kaleidoscopic clothes and fashion statements in general.

The vibrant colours and the political mindsets and the pure lack of fucks to give during the time period has Matt enamoured. Calling him a big fan would be putting it extremely lightly.

You and Matt first met in 6th grade of middle school. From what you can remember, you were sitting next to him.

He was laser focused on his assignment with big and obvious headphones clasped onto his head.

Bobbing his head slowly to the smooth and flowy melodies, you pat him on the shoulder.

He turns his head and immediately pulls the headphones to the side so one of his ears perks out.

“What music are you listenin’ to?” Matt instantly thinks you’re about to ridicule him. He, for some odd reason, has always been the victim of mockery. You never understood why, he’s such a cool and chilled out kid.

“O-oh…um…” Matt stutters nervously. He was truly unsure of what to say or do in this situation. You could feel the fight or flight trigger in his hard gaze.

“Gimme the headphones! I wanna listen.” Exclaiming with an odd sense of compassion. Matt furrows his eyebrows and looks at you funny but still gives you his headphones anyway.

You whiz the headphones around your ears and onto your head. The hallucinatory notes mixing with the light and staticky voices put you in a heavy but pleasing trance.

You feel a big smile wipe across your face clean as you look back at Matt staring at you impatiently. Silently telling you ‘give me my headphones back, you weirdo.’

“This is so cool! What’s the song called?” You speak enthusiastically, still with a big grin on your profile.

Matt’s eyes light up slightly at you. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked at your interest in this type of thing or because he was alarmed by how bubbly and enthusiastic you are.

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds… It’s by the Beatles.” He drawls out, now looking down at the floor and fidgeting with his fingers.

“Siiiiiick. Are there any more songs like this one?” You hand him back his headphones, you start to rock in your chair in anticipation and out of looking for something to do now that you don’t have the sensory fulfilment that is Matt’s music taste.

“Oh of course. They’re a band with a bunch of other songs and albums, kid.” Matt calling you kid after almost instantaneously sparking an acquaintance with you makes you giggle to yourself. What a funny nickname for someone you just met.

“Well, can you show me them? Pretty please?” You utter with an exaggerated pout on your lips as you flutter your eyelashes at him. You intertwine your hands and rest them at the side of your face to hyperbolise the sad puppy look, making Matt chuckle lightly.

“Fine…there are many other bands like them, y’know.”

“Show me those ones too!” Yelling down his ear with eagerness, he flinches at your noisiness and covers his ear you just bellowed in.

“Ugh.” He scoffs in annoyance, whilst you’re sitting across him with the biggest twinkle in your eye.

“Yay! Thank youuuuu.” Your genuine excitement makes his face flush into a deep maroon. He turns his head around in embarrassment, trying not to maintain eye contact.

“Yeah whatever, kid.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

NINE YEARS LATER

“Wanna try it?”

What Matt has in his hands is a vacuum sealed metallic bag. You could not make out what it is but you knew for sure it was some kind of drug.

“What the fuck is it? I thought we made an agreement that we weren’t gonna do chemical shit. Y’know how I feel about that.” You scrunch your nose in both confusion and disgust. Yet you were still curious as to what Matt was holding in his hand.

“Kid, have you never heard of magic mushrooms before? Jesus, for someone who smokes a fuck ton of wedding cake, you seem to have no clue what these boomers are.”

“I do know what a fucking magic mushroom is, Matt. I just didn’t want it to be a bag of heroin or some shit like that.” Your legs cross whilst you look at him through your eyelashes. You’re genuinely hesitant since you’ve never tried a mushroom before. Yeah, you smoked weed. But this is a whole different thing. This is a literal psychedelic.

“Heroin at mass is sold in baggies or balloons, stupid.” He chortles. “As I was saying, are you gonna try it with me or nah?” He chucks the small pouch at you.

There’s a small plastic window where you can see the muddy fungi inside. You cringe in distaste, you wonder to yourself where the fuck he got them from. Incredibly skittish, you want to back out. But curiosity and temptation is killing you at the same time.

“I don’t think I wanna try this Matt. It seems stupid.” You scoff. Matt smirks down at you and grabs the bag again.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, kid. It’s just mushrooms, you’re not gonna die.” He waves the sealed bag tantalisingly around your face.

“Fine, fine whatever.” You give him the bird and suck your teeth. He chuckles like a little child at your offensive remarks. He offers you the bag again.

“Ladies first.” He remarks cunningly.

You break open the packet and receive a heavy waft of dirt. You turn your head the other way immediately as a natural reaction. The strong scent makes your face almost turn inside out in repulsion.

“You’re so dramatic.” Matt smirks. You turn back at him with a mean glare.

“You sniff it, then. ‘Cuz you’re soooo tough.” You jitter mockingly right up in his face. Dragging your hand right under his nostrils for him to get a whiff. His eyebrows knit close together and screw his eyes shut.

“Who’s dramatic now? Hm?” Your teasing rhetoric strikes one of his nerves. He immediately plunges his hand in the bag and takes the squishy piece of matter.

“Hey hey, slow down. Let me get one out.” You yell out at him in shock at his lack of hesitancy. He rolls his eyes with impatience while your shivering hand places itself into the plastic bag to pick one out.

“Oh yeah, just so y’know, this could last up to 5 hours.” Matt states super casually. Your eyebrows raise as you look back up at him. You’re not all that surprised though. What were you expecting? It's not plain jane weed, it’s mushrooms.

“I don’t give a fuck anymore, let’s just get this over with.”

Soon after you said that, you both hastily gulped the abnormal saprophyte down. Both of your faces contort at the peculiar taste and texture.

“Eurgh… that was the worst.” You gag at the displeasure going down your throat and into your digestive system.

“Yeah, this is a one time thing for sure.” Matt affirms with a deep frown. He turns to his queen sized bed with silk sheets and plops down next to you.

“When will these hit?” You quiz him curiously. Tangling and playing with the strands of your hair out of a way to distract yourself from what you just did.

“It's the same principle as an edible, it’ll take a while to hit. So don’t take another one.” He mumbles inconspicuously since his face is half smushed into his soft mattress.

“Shall we smoke some weed while we wait?”

“No, dude. We’d literally die. Let’s not fuckin’ kill ourselves from severe psychosis tonight, yeah?”

You smile at his stupid banter. It’s what made Matt so appealing to you. His dry humour alongside his ridiculous behaviour when you’re both stoned as shit is like taking a breath of fresh air. Knowing each other for almost ten years and you two still never get tired of each other. Constantly hanging out, doing stupid and reckless shit ever since you two were tweens. True best friends.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A while has passed, and the both of you are so far out of your heads. Every single time you turn to look at each other, the more distorted everything gets. You see things you don’t actually see, you hear things you don’t actually hear, you smell things you don’t actually smell. The tie dye-like swirls on Matt’s tapestries that hang proud on his walls disfigure and circle around putting you under a strict hypnosis.

“Holy shit…” Matt’s voice rattles through your cochleas, making your head sting from the blare. You move around to see him while your vision oversaturates and wiggles with no rhythm or control.

“W-what is going on…” The bare echoes of your voice tingles your senses. The soft scent of Matt’s white musk incense blazing in the background fills the crevices of your nostrils and massages your brain, it was the only thing soothing you from the extremity of the situation.

“Matt…I’m scared…What the fuck is going on.” Abruptly, the effects on your voice quickly transitions into a thick static. The sensory overload inflicts the both of you. You feel incredibly overwhelmed and almost spiral into a state of panic.

“I’m here, I promise.” Matt mutters under his breath. His clammy hands take a hold of your wrist firmly. You look up at him to see his pupils viciously dilated while finding it hard to breathe.

“I’m so scared.” You shudder. Pure anxiety soaks you up but is squeezed back out when Matt moves your head to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head so it lays on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.” Your heartbeat pounds rapidly. You don’t say or do anything both because you’re way too high as well as wanting to savour this moment since you purely assume this will never happen ever again.

Why is Matt being so soft with you? Ever since you two first met, he’s never been the type to call you these names.

“From now on. Weed n’ fuckin’ weed only.” You demand in a serious manner. Matt sighs out a laugh while he strokes your hair in reassurance. “Of course… p-princess.”

You purse your lips as a way to try and hide the excitement from Matt calling you these sudden names. A million thoughts come racing through your mind all at once. You’ve gotten both high and drunk with Matt on several occasions. Are the mushrooms that strong?

Your vision is still eradicated and infused with neon reds and pinks. You want to close your eyes but when you’re in pitch black darkness, the patterns become more prominent and it freaks you out to an extreme.

You hear Matt whisper delicately which makes your ears perk up indefinitely. You twist your neck to look up at him for his gaze to meet yours. His mouth hangs slightly open with his pupils large and his eyebags hang low across his defined cheekbones.

“l-like…you..” He sputters out. He sounds like he has no more control left in the muscles of his face any more. Jesus christ, this shit is strong.

“...huh…” Rebound of the vowels smushed on your tongue and teeth is elevated by the effects of the drug. Both you and Matt are incredibly discombobulated. You raise yourself from underneath Matt’s figure for you to try your absolute best to attempt to understand what he just said.

Matt’s now looking up at you through the locks of hair that drape over his low and inflamed eyes.

“I really…really like you… like, ‘ver since… I-I got to know you better in 6th grade…I now have a decent excuse for why I’m telling you this... I’m fucking tripping balls.” He laughs it off as if he didn’t just confess his feelings to you off the rip right in front of you, face to face.

You just sit there gazing down at him bewildered with your mouth agape. He clenches his lips shut and frowns slightly, averting his gaze down to the bed in regret of just blurting that out.

“Matt…w-what the fuck…” Immediately after you utter this question, Matt slaps his hand over his mouth and starts to slightly curl himself up into a little ball like a shrivelled raisin.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I-I ruined the experience… I thought you felt the same way and I was thinking too quickly ahead of myself I-I’m really sorry-”

You pat both of Matt’s shoulders and force his head up to look at you.

“Matt, I-It’s okay… I promise you. I-I feel the same. I know we’re both high as fuck right now, but I know for sure t-that I’m telling the truth. I really like you, Matt.”

His body loosens underneath you in reaction to your words. Your thumb rubs softly over his defined cheekbones. The frown on his face turned upside down completely into a large smile.

Your big and swollen pupils squint down at him. His heavy breaths, his cherry pink lips resting lazily and hanging slightly open, and his frizzy and dishevelled hair that drapes gracefully over his droopy eyes.

Everything about him, the whole sight of him makes you soaked at your core.

Your thighs clench together in desperation and you grit down onto your bottom lip intensely. The flesh of your hand is still resting on Matt’s face. You can feel the pricklyness of his stubble on your very fingertips.

The two of you just stare at each other, admiring every little thing about one another. In a comfortable but loud silence. The effects of the drug are still sharp around the edge, jabbing and stabbing both of your 5 main senses.

You feel your body start to give in and fall forward into Matt. Your forehead clashes with his. Your large breaths blend together.

Abruptly, he tilts his head up. His lips just graze against yours. You can tell he’s desperate with his eyes full to the brim with lust and eroticism. You pull away lightly with a smirk on your face whilst Matt writhes and squirms. He tries to follow your head so he can make contact with your mouth. He really wants to kiss you.

Seeing him this vulnerable makes you melt. What once was a bad-mouthing, cocky and smug little shit who smoked with you every week was now gone. He’s now tripping on mushrooms underneath you with a throbbing semi.

You manoeuvre yourself over so both of your legs are spread on top of him. You’re in a cowgirl position, with Matt.

His prick pulses harshly beneath your heat. The only thing stopping the contact between the two of you are your clothes. Matt’s now fully hard, to the point where his dick has developed a tent in his harem pants.

You start to sway your hips back and forth. Matt’s head flips back fully and his mouth hangs open. His Adam's apple is fully revealed and bobs up and down marginally. His hefty breathing now transitioned into hot and rowdy moans and whimpers.

“Look at me baby, look at me while I grind on your cock.” You finally spoke, after there was nothing but whines and sobs filling the air.

“Y-yes mommy…” You sigh out a sharp laugh. Knowing your arrogant friend who’s always causing a riot with alcohol and dope is now rock hard thanks to you, moaning and whining into your ear like a little bitch fills you with an overwhelming sense of fulfilment.

“Yeah that’s right, be a good boy for me. Keep calling me mommy.” You feel as though you could do anything to him right this second. You had all of the power and control over Matt. Your teeth grit together and the smirk on your face largens.

“You make me feel so good, Mommy. Y-you’re gonna make me cum…” The words come spilling out of his mouth like calm waves of the ocean. What used to be the intense sound of his voice from the drugs now turned silky smooth from the euphoria spooling out from your sensitive nerves.

You stop rocking your hips on top of his cock. Matt looks up at you with his bottom lip concealed fully inside his mouth by his teeth.

“Take your pants off baby, lemme make you cum properly.” You command him pompously. Immediately, he speedily grasps at his waist band and tugs it down his thighs.

His cock bounces out of the loose fabric. The tip was swollen and pink with precum dripping out thickly. The rhythm of his breath matched with the harsh trembling of blood flow to his dick.

“Jesus Christ… and I barely did anything to you, not yet anyway.” You tease. Matt’s face jams up with impatience and knuckles his hands into his vibrant sheets.

“P-please just touch me. I really wanna cum mommy.” He pleads eagerly. His eyebrows furrowed deeply into his skin and his face splashed apricot pink. His whole body shivers. Anticipating heavily for your skin to press into his.

You reach out your hand and wrap it loosely around his large and thick cock. You slither down his shaft slowly in a jesting manner. You leer up at Matt to see him gaping down at you, panting stiffly.

Your pace on his dick starts to quicken. Your fingers clench tightly around him making him jolt up into your hand.

Matt loses all control within himself and starts to thrust up and down hastily. Practically fucking your hand. You push him down with your other palm and hold him into place. You shoot him a mean stare as he gulps down what was left of his pride.

“Don’t move.” The stern tone infused in your voice makes Matt quiver. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and pulls it up his face to conceal his severe embarrassment.

What’s happening right now tells you one thing that you never would’ve thought would be the case. Matt loves being controlled. He admires the idea of being dominated. And you are contributing to that fantasy.

The pad of your index and middle finger press onto his fleshy, rosy-red tip faintly. A choked up whine crawls out of his throat and his legs rise upwards but your weight stops them.

“M-mommy… please don't stop... I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby. Don’t be shy. Be a good boy for mommy and cum.” You start to go faster and more harsh on his sensitive tip. Matt’s entire body shakes and his hips buck and lock into place.

“Cumming mommy, c-cumming...”

His tip suddenly spurts out long thick strings of his load. Onto your face, your hand, your clothes, your chest, everywhere. Every single time a white rope would come spilling out of his prick, an intense shiver would shoot through his body and his shirt is now crumpled into its original place.

He gasps intimately while you sit there with his seed still dripping down your face.

Matt’s eyes suddenly widen and he raises his entire figure in a panic to grab the box of tissues on his bedside table.

“No no, don’t worry. I got it.” You disclose to him delicately. You tug out a few sheets of tissue and wipe at his skin from the waist below.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess… I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Matt utters sorrowfully. He pulls his pants back up and you grab more tissues.

He takes hold of your wrist to take the tissues from you. He places his thumb onto your chin to position you as he folds the tissues.

“It’s fine Matt, I enjoyed it. A lot, actually.” You grin compassionately as Matt swipes at your face with the tissues.

“I think that’s the first and last time we’re ever gonna do mushrooms, though.” He snickers, crumpling the dirty tissues and chucking them into the bin lying at the side of the bed.

“Yeah, one time thing.” You rest your head on his stomach, you rise and fall with his breathing.

"Can I braid your hair?" Matt casually inquires. "I have a bunch of charms and hair ties."

You beam a smile from ear to him, your face fills up with a cherry blossom pink.

"Yeah, of course Matt."

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Author’s Note No.2: I think this will most definitely have a part 2. I have no complaints with making a series, if you haven’t already noticed with me always bringing up pins n’ needles. This took me a while to write because I’ve been busy with exams and social life. But I finally completed one after 2 weeks!!! Yayyy!! ‘Till next time, pooks.

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual @luvmxtt @tillies33ssss @breeloveschris

#christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

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stargirllanaa · 4 months

Text

୨⎯ “I don’t smoke”- R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, heavy drinking, violence, mentions of drugs, mentions past d/v, Rafe’s a narcissist, emotional abuse

Summary: based on ‘I don’t smoke’ by Mitski (you don’t have to listen to understand but I still recommend. You drink to much and everything goes so wrong.

A/n ✎: surpriseeee, I was taking a break but got randomly motivated lol, thank you for 300 followers!!! Ily all sm! My inbox is open btw, also pls reblog and comment if you enojoyed!! Also I recommend listening to the song while reading!! Tyy

Wc: 2.8k

18+ minors dni!!!

As you took a long drag of your cigarette, you thought about your night, how you ended up on the balcony of the Cameron house with a tear-stained face and a cigarette in hand.

You never smoked except for after you and your boyfriend got into it; nicotine’s supposed to relieve stress and calm the nerves, right? I mean, you weren't addicted, just a stress relief.

It made you laugh how almost every fight with your boyfriend was so stupid, usually a misunderstanding or him taking out his anger for something that had nothing to do with you.

You questioned why you always stayed with him; how could you be so in love with someone who mistreated you?

You laughed to yourself, taking another drag of your cig before inhaling, the warm breeze making contact with your slightly damp face, reminding you of why you were even out here; the sad realization brought fresh tears to your eyes, and before you knew it you were bawling again, sitting on the ground, knees brought to your chest, sobbing into your lap.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ Earlier that night୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

You and Rafe had ended up at a random party, some kook that Rafe knew from high school. Believe it or not, you enjoyed going to parties with Rafe. There was always an excuse to get as drunk and high as possible, and if you were faded enough, your thoughts would stop, and you finally felt at peace. It was honestly sad, but being in a relationship with Rafe, it was so hard to feel ok… to feel normal.

You guys had been at the party for about an hour, and you were already crossed, taking every drink offered to you in a heartbeat and even smoking with your boyfriend and his friends, but you could still feel, and you didn't like that, so you stumbled over to the drinks table, praying that there was at least enough left for a shot. Your vision was already spinning, and you were practically tripping over yourself, but you just wanted the pain in your heart to stop; that's it.

After what felt like a lifetime pushing through people and saying, ‘Excuse me,’ you finally made it. You reached for a bottle but didn't even read what it was; you were just desperate for anything. Your gut told you to stop drinking; you were nauseous, dizzy, felt heavy, and could barely walk straight, but your heart told you to keep going, so you did.

You poured yourself a shot, shaky, uncoordinated hands spilling a good amount on your fingers and the table. You drank the alcohol, tossing your head back as the bitter liquid made contact with your tongue before slightly burning the back of your throat. Your face scrunched up, looking around for a chaser but unable to find one.

As you stumbled around looking for your boyfriend, you bumped into at least five people, even causing one girl to spill her drink on herself; everything felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and the world was spinning; you hated, but you loved this feeling, you were numb to your problems but also felt sick.

When you made eye contact with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch; you could barely make out the color of the sofa or who else was even on it; that's how fucked up you were.

You sat down next to him before even realizing what you were doing. You practically fell into him; before you knew it, you were lying on his shoulder and falling asleep.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

“Y/n!” you heard your boyfriend's voice echoing through your head before even opening your eyes; you kept them closed. You were still tired and wanted at least five more minutes of sleep.

“She's knocked out, man.” you heard another man who wasn't your boyfriend say, most likely one of his friends.

“Y/n!” Rafe shouted, now shaking you awake.

You were genuinely confused when you opened your eyes—three blurry figures standing before you. When your vision evened out, you saw Your boyfriend was staring at you with his fist clenched to the side, clearly angry, as his two friends stood beside him, but you were laying on Rafe, at least you thought you were, but when you lifted your head and looked to your side to see who you were laying on, it was some random guy.

You immediately jumped, scooting yourself away from the random blonde. You had never seen this man before, and when you layed next to him, you could have sworn he was your boyfriend.

You quickly stood up, still tired and still drunk. Your heart was beating rapidly, and the look on Rafe's face didn't help; he was arguing with the man you had been lying on; you heard the name ‘Evan’ slip from his mouth.

"What's your problem, man?" Evan questioned, his tone challenging; he kept his spot on the couch as you hid behind your boyfriend and his friends, still able to get a clear view of the altercation.

“I've seen the way you've looked at her before.” Your boyfriend drunkenly spat, referring to you; he talked with his hands aggressively. That was a bad sign, and it worried you; you just wanted to explain to him this was all an accident, a drunken mistake.

“Listen, man; Your girl was all over me.”

Evan replied, words laced with venom as he stood up from his spot on the couch.”Maybe control your bitch next time-”

Without another word, Rafe lunged forward, his fist connecting with Evan's jaw.

The force of the blow sent Evan stumbling backward, crashing into a nearby table, sending drinks flying in all directions, causing everybody around to stop and look.

Evan recovered quickly, launching himself at Rafe.

The two boys wrestled with each other; trading blows amidst the chaos of the party; a crowd formed around them as phones were being taken out to record.

You were horrified, wide eyes watching as Rafe pushed the other blonde to the floor before punching him repeatedly. You knew this was your fault, and you felt horrible. How could you have made such a big mistake?

Your tears spilled, and your hand covered your mouth as you watched Rafe's friend's topper and Kelce pull him away from the kook on the floor, finally separating them. Rafe looked so angry. He was breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, but when you looked at the bloody blonde on the floor, you gasped. You regretted even looking at him; blood covered his face as he rolled over slightly, coughing more blood up; you even heard someone mutter, “Call 911.”

When Rafe's friends finally let go of him, he didn't go back for more; he honestly seemed satisfied, and when he grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you away from the now-dead party and to his truck, clearly trying to avoid the police you were honestly shocked, You had never witnessed rafe hurt someone that bad, I mean he was going crazy, you couldn’t get the image of Evans blood covered face out of your head. And the more you thought about it, the more grateful you were that Rafe had never caused that much harm to you. I mean, sometimes he would slap, chock, or grab you, but he had just shown you how much he was genuinely holding back.

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You had finally arrived at Tanneyhill after what felt like hours of complete silence as Rafe dropped his friends off. He refused to talk to you, ignoring you as you tried to explain to him that it was an accident and that you were just really fucked up. You were still drunk, not as drunk as you were when you originally made the mistake, but drunk enough to keep trying to talk to Rafe.

The thing was that you would rather argue with Rafe than be ignored; you hated when he punished you with the silent treatment; it made you want to curl up into a ball and cry, and you also didn't know how long he would keep this going, sometimes it was days, sometimes it was hours, you would much rather him just hit you and get it over with.

“Why would you even bring me here if you're going to ignore me?” You questioned Rafe, voices pleading for a response as you found your place on his bed.

He didn't even look up at you; instead, he rolled his eyes as he focused on his phone, scrolling through whatever social media app he was on.

“Are you fucking serious?” You recklessly said as tears started to brim your eyes; his breathing halted for a moment at that. “I said it was an accident! What the fuck do you want me to do?” You choked out, throwing your hands up.

Rafe continued to ignore you, slightly laughing at something on his phone; he wanted you to feel as guilty as possible, and he knew making you sit in silence and think about what you did would be the best way to achieve that, so he had to be strong. He wanted so badly to respond and put you in your place, but he also knew you would prefer that to this.

“Rafe!” you shouted, wanting so desperately to be heard, but you got no response, not even a look in your direction.

“RAFE!” You repeated even louder this time, but still, he kept eye contact with his phone and ignored you; it made you so angry and sad, so many emotions you didn't want to feel. This was the fucking worst.

“I fucking can't.” You cried, tears blurring your vision as you left Rafe's room, slamming the door behind you as you made your way to the balcony. You grabbed your chest, trying to slow your fast and deep breathing, but you couldn't. Rafe was treating you like shit, and it was so frustrating.

The blonde didn't stop you from leaving his room; he knew your little routine and that you would return to his bed in at least ten minutes.

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The following day, you woke up to muffled yelling from outside Rafe's bedroom door; you didn't even remember falling asleep or returning to his room last night; your last memory was bawling on the balcony as the smell of your cigarette filled your nose.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, noticing the pounding sensation throughout your head. You drank way too much last night, you thought to yourself before being brought back to reality by the muffled voices behind the door. Their voices were tense, filled with bitterness, and you couldn't help but feel a twitch of worry knotting in your stomach.

You glanced around the room, searching for clues or signs of what might have sparked the disagreement, but it was nothing new for Rafe to get into it with literally anyone.

The morning light filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your familiar surroundings, but your attention remained fixed on the heated exchange just beyond the door. But before you could even form another thought, Rafe's bedroom door swung open and slammed closed behind him as he breathed in and out fast and placed his hands on his head.

You exited his bed, swinging your feet out from under his blankets before standing up and walking over to him. You just wanted to comfort him and try to make him feel better. Even though you and Rafe didn't necessarily get along all the time, he's still your boyfriend, and you didn't enjoy seeing someone you love so upset.

“Rafe.” you calmly mumbled, touching his back. “Calm down,” you said, rubbing it. You could tell he was still distraught by how he was breathing.

His breath was rapid, his jaw clenched, and his first balled to his side.

“Take some deep breaths.” you calmly mutter, still trying to calm him down, but you knew you had triggered something in him when you saw the way he turned to you, eyes narrowed and dark; you didn't understand why what you said upset him, but you knew that all his anger would now be directed towards you.

“Calm down?” Rafe repeated, tone harsh and aggressive. “Deep breaths?” he hissed, taking a step closer to you as you took one back.

“Do you hear yourself?” The kook tapped on his temples as he stared you down, jaw clenched as he leaned on his dresser.

“You sound just like Sarah.” he tisked as he crossed his arms.

You didn't know what to say, but at this point, you were on the other side of the room; you knew you were playing a dangerous game, even being in the same room as Rafe when he got like this.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Rafe? I-” You looked down before being cut off by the sound of glass hitting the floor after your boyfriend knocked over serval objects that were sitting on top of his dresser in one clean sweep.

You flinched, closing your eyes as the abrupt noise of objects breaking filled your ears. You were grateful he took his anger out on his random trinkets rather than you, but you couldn’t stop your breath from speeding up as you held your chest, trying to lower your anxiety.

“I want you to be fucking quiet for once.” Rafe fumed angrily, now stalking towards you. “I want you to stop getting shitfaced just to embarrass me.” he spat, referring to last night.

As he stalked towards you, you made a run for it, successfully reaching the other side of the room, but this pissed him off even more you could see the way his jaw clenched even from where you were standing.

“Yeah, because the whole world revolves around Rafe!” you sarcastically nodded with a fake smile. He was fucking delusional if he thought you would purposely get drunk just to fall asleep on another man and embarrass him.

He rolled his eyes in response, jaw ticking again.

“I'm at least happy you got your anger out on someone other than me last ni-” Your words were cut off by empty glass being thrown directly at your face; luckily, you dodged it, falling to the floor and covering your head immediately.

Thankfully, the glass was thick enough that it didn’t break. What the fuck. If that would have hit your face, Rafe could have fucking killed you. You didn't know how you went from trying to comfort your boyfriend to almost being killed by him so fast. He was so unpredictable it was scary, and since you were so lost in thought, you didn't realize he was now right in front of you.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned, voice now calm… scarily calm as he kneeled in front of you, brushing a hand over your hair.

You didn't respond; you were shaking and now crying. You were too terrified to even look up at him, too scared of what was coming next.

“Look at me.” Rafe sneered before tightening his once soft grip on your hair and using it to pull your head back and make eye contact.

You groaned at the feeling, more tears falling from your face as the pain intensified every second. You regretted even trying to make him feel better in the first place. Fuck, you regretted even meeting him.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned again. This time, his voice was harsher, and his eyes grew darker the longer you didn't respond, but you didn't care you weren't answering that stupid fucking question; Rafe had no excuse to hurt you no matter what you did, and you weren't about to validate his reasoning.

“This is exactly why.” Rafe scolded, grabbing more hair as his grip tightened further. You screamed out in pain, but he quickly covered your mouth with his other hand as he continued. “You’re disrespectful.” he critiqued as he spoke through his teeth.

You were sobbing into his hand, tears soaking his fingers as he looked down at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. Rafe wanted to hurt you; Your boyfriend wanted you to feel exactly how he did when he entered his room in the first place.

“You’re kinda pathetic, you know.” Rafe looked you up and down, grip still tight on your hair.

“You're already crying, and I barely even touched you yet.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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moonsgemini · 8 months

Text

don’t delete the kisses - college!rafe

summary: Rafe loses all his confidence when it comes to the girl he’s been pining after for years but maybe her plan to be alone with him will help give him the push he needs. Or maybe the guy that flirts with her and doesn’t take no will be his final straw.

warnings: MUTUAL PINING, fluff, self doubt, alcohol, friends to lovers kinda, college au, semi creepy guy, fem reader, she/her

wc: 4.3k

an: HI FRIENDS!!! guess who’s back fr this fine. I started a very new chapter of my life recently & kinda went through a little depression but I’m doing much better now & much more adjusted. I missed writing sm but I’m a little rusty so uh sorry if it's bad LOL

p.s I turned 23 last week. ik my bio already says 23 but I lied & was 22 but now I’m 23. LOL. also I’m not a gemini but I have a gemini moon.

Rafe was confident. Some would say he was a little cocky, but he never saw it that way. He saw it as knowing what he wanted and never stopping until he got it. Whether it be being the best at soccer, taking out the hottest girl, or getting a 4.2 gpa. Rafe’s charming personality always got him far in every aspect in life. Parents loved him, teachers admired him, girls practically threw themselves at him. Of course he had no problem talking to girls, it was almost what he was best at.

Except when it came to her. She made his words get stuck in his throat, all his thoughts leaving his head when his eyes would meet hers. Whenever she was in the room he couldn’t function, something their friends had started to notice. Rafe’s sophomore year y/n started coming around with one of his friend’s Wren. She inevitably integrated with the group. Y/n would go to the frat parties at the boys frat and Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Yet never once did he attempt to flirt with her.

Ever since Wren had introduced her to them he was gone. Her shy smile and wide excited eyes had reeled him in. She was sweet and a constant ray of sunshine. Which makes it an even bigger mystery as to why he can’t talk to her. It’s not like she’d be mean or reject him, but somehow he can never get any words out. Always turning into a clammy, awkward, stuttering mess.

Now that it was his senior year attending frat parties became less frequent and going to bars was more common for them. This just made his problem worse. Because now at bars guys would hit on her and he couldn’t do anything. He’d watch with a glare as some guy clearly not good enough for her tried to get her number. She’d always say no, he wasn’t sure why but he was definitely glad she never gave anyone the time of day.

Y/n was sick and tired of never having Rafe’s attention. She’d see him effortlessly talk to Wren and the other girls they were friends with but when it came to her it seemed like he tried to avoid conversation. He would make up an excuse to leave the conversation or would only give short answers. She figured it was to get her to stop talking to him, but she was not giving up that easily.

She wanted his attention because he was just so Rafe. He was smart, athletic, kind, and funny. Maybe he didn’t talk to her but she was always listening to him. When they went on a road trip last summer she sat in the back seat happily in silence because Rafe was talking to Mason almost the whole ride. Plus he is so handsome she swears he could be a disney prince. Y/n had a plan to get to spend some time with him. She wanted him to like her so desperately it was starting to hurt.

It was a Friday night and they were all going out to the bars and she had so graciously offered to host the pregame at her apartment. Everything was going according to plan as her friends all said they’d be there and said what alcohol they were bringing. Even Rafe had sent a text in the group saying he’d be there and that got her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Of course she had the perfect outfit to hopefully impress him and get his attention.

She was setting out shot glasses and solo cups when the first guests knocked on the door. With a giddy smile on her lips she walked over and opened the door. Of course Wren was a part of the group to first arrive.

“Y/n! I’m so happy you’re hosting!” Wren exclaimed as she hugged her. The other three behind Wren took their turn greeting her with a hug as well.

“What you don’t like our place?” Tyler, one of the guys she came with, asked.

Wren gave him a sour look, “Not really into houses with four boys who don’t clean after themselves.”

Kelce gave her an offended look, “Hey we do clean before you guys come over.” They all gathered in the kitchen around the breakfast bar starting to look at the different alcohol options.

“I wouldn’t call wiping down the counters with baby wipes cleaning,” Mariah rolled her eyes at the pair of boys. Just then another knock came from the door.

Kelce who was closest to the door went over to open it. Topper walked in first dapping (an: I cringed too) up Kelce. Behind him followed Mason and Jasmine who all took their turns greeting everyone. Then last but certainly not least Rafe’s tall frame walked through the door way. He smiled brightly as he greeted Kelce and moved on to everyone else. Once he got to y/n who was the last one left his wide smile turned into a closed lip grin. Instead of giving her a side hug the way that all the guys did and the way he did to the other girls he just gave her a small wave. She couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt her but it wasn’t going to deter her from her plan.

Rafe had been a nervous wreck ever since that text she sent inviting them over. Kelce had turned to him knowing his best friend would be looking as pale as a ghost. Rafe didn’t know if he was excited or mortified. The hours before the pregame he had been trying on different outfits and making sure his hair looked okay. Why do I even care so much? is all he kept thinking as he finished spraying on cologne.

He cared so much because he was going to y/n’s. Every time he went in with the mentality that it would be different. He would be his usual self and be able to talk to her. But then when he’d see her all his confidence would disappear and he’d be trying to get away from her as soon as possible. He hated the effect she had on him, he hated feeling so defenseless.

After he chickened out of giving her a hug when he came over he lost complete hope for the rest of the night.

They were going to be leaving for the bar soon and all he had been doing was stealing glances at her every five seconds. She was sitting on her couch with a couple of the girls talking about who knows what. He knows that whatever it was it was making her smile big. She was glowing and radiating so much light he almost couldn’t look away. He loved how she blushed whenever talking about something she was passionate about, something he noticed she did. He also noticed how she constantly touched her hair when she was nervous.

His grip on his cup tightened as he thought about her. He wished he could be the one to brush her hair away or hold her hands when she felt nervous. He sighed and looked away, trying to pay attention to whatever story Topper was telling.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully while smiling, “It’s a good plan guys! I’ll ask if he can stay behind to help me clean so then we can finally be alone together. God I hope he doesn’t say he’ll leave.”

Wren looked at her friend with sympathetic eyes, “This man has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“You’re going through all this effort for the biggest player at this school,” Jasmine reminded her.

Y/n shrugged a shy smile on her lips, “But it’s Rafe. We know him, he’s-he’s a good guy.”

“She’s not wrong. He is a good guy,” Wren agreed.

Jasmine laughed, “Well let’s hope he actually tries to pull a move tonight. I’m tired of seeing you reject every guy for him.”

Y/n sighed, “If nothing happens tonight then I’ll give up and it means he really hates me.”

Wren put her hand over hers, “He doesn’t hate you babe. I promise you he doesn’t.”

“Ladies I think it’s tiiiime to head out,” Mason said as he walked over. The buzz he had clearly showing.

The three girls looking at each other before standing up. Y/n cleared her throat, “I-I think I’m gonna stay behind a bit.”

“Dude what? No you’re coming out tonight,” Topper said as they all walked into the kitchen.

“I’m coming out tonight Top. I just wanna stay back and clean a bit,” she gathered all the courage she could, “Uh Rafe could you stay back and help me?”

Rafe turned to look at her with furrowed brows. His kind was racing with reasons as to why she would want him to help. He was also fighting with himself to say no.

He looked over at his friends who were all smirking at him. He huffed a dry laugh, “uh yeah yeah sure.” He gave her a tight lipped smile. As soon as he saw her play with her hair and that smile form on her lips he knew she deserved a million yes’.

After everyone left Rafe and y/n started silently cleaning the kitchen and living room. Rafe glanced up at her every so often, catching her eyes a few times. A subtle heat would creep up on her cheeks when his blue eyes met hers.

She brought over a few beer bottles to the kitchen to recycle as she cleared her throat, “so Rafe how is uh soccer?” She needed something to talk to him about, the silence was killing her.

He looked up at her from where he was wiping the counter. The light buzz he had was making him feel a bit more like himself, “It’s good, season finally starts next week.”

She leaned against the end of the counter, “That’s good. I expect big things from you Rafe, you won the championship last year.”

He chuckled nervously, “Now I really have motivation to do good.”

She smirked, “well you’re like insanely talented so I regardless you’re going to kill it.”

“I will if you come to some games,” The words left his mouth faster than he could stop them. But he was glad he couldn’t stop himself. The blush on her cheeks and the way she looked down fighting a smile made any embarrassment he felt worth it.

“Of course I’ll be there,” She smiled at him, “thanks for helping me clean Rafe. I really didn’t want to come home to a messy apartment.”

“Anything for you,” He shrugged with a small smile.

Her heart was pounding in chest as she spoke, “One more shot before we go?”

He chuckled, “let’s do it.”

She looked around for shot glasses, “Uh I think we used all the shot glasses.” Her suspicions were correct when she opened the dishwasher seeing them in there.

Rafe’s stomach twisted at the idea that popped into his brain. He rubbed his hands on his pants anxiously as he spoke, “I can just pour it in your mouth like a couple of freshman.” He tried to joke hoping he didn’t make her uncomfortable with his suggestion.

Her eyes lit up mischievously feeling like a genius as her plan was going better than expected, “Only if you let me doing it you.”

He nodded laughing, “Fair enough, so what’s your alcohol of choice?”

“hmmm tequila,” She smiled.

He picked a bottle from the counter opening it and looking over at her with a smirk, “Ready?”

She chuckled nervously, “uhhh you first.” He handed her the bottle.

She looked up at him, his tall frame towering over her, “Okay you’re gonna have to lean down or something Rafe you’re too tall.”

He walked around to sit at one of the stools. His knees pointed to her, long legs spread. Without thinking she stepped towards him. Practically standing between his legs, “Get ready Cameron.” She smirked hoping to hide just how dizzy he was making her feel. She’d never been this close to him and it was overwhelming.

He tilted his head back opening his mouth. Her face felt hot as she started pouring the liquid in his mouth. She shouldn’t have been as attracted to it as she was. She pulled away after a few seconds. When Rafe was done drinking he looked at her with a smirk, “That was more than a shot.”

She shrugged feigning innocence, “Oops.”

He let a breathy sigh, a smile still on his lips. He couldn’t find any words to say because when he looked at her for too long he got nervous.

“uh it’s your turn,” He stood up taking the bottle from her hands. It was then he realized how close she was. She smelled so good he wanted to lean into her. He wanted to push her hair back and tuck his face into her neck, kiss her pulse as he breathed in her perfume.

Y/n opened her mouth and tilted her head back a bit. Rafe’s hands moved before he could think. He placed his hand on the side of her face, his thumb going under her chin tilting it up gently. Her mouth opened wider on it’s own accord, something in her wanting to do exactly whatever he wanted. Rafe noticed it too and his jaw clenched as he thought about her in ways that aren’t very gentlemanly.

She couldn’t even taste or feel the alcohol starting to go down her throat as she stared at him. Rafe looked incredibly hot as he stood over her. His lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrated not spilling all over her. The few seconds felt like minutes when he was this close. Rafe pulled the bottle away. As she closed her mouth swallowing the remaining liquid Rafe’s thumb wiped away a drop from the corner of her lip before pulling away. She quickly took a drink from the soda she had opened, trying to get the tequila taste out of her mouth.

He cleared his throat as the tension in the room was palpable, “So uh we should um catch up with everyone?” He said as a question because he didn’t know what to do from here. He wanted to do whatever she did.

Y/n wanted him to bend her over the kitchen counter. But she kept her composure nodding her head, “Uh yeah yeah.”

She stepped away from him instantly missing the closeness as she grabbed her purse. He waited by the door as she walked over. His eyes watched her every move. He held the door open for her as she walked out. He never once looked away as she turned her back to him to lock her door, he enjoyed this view of her. The skirt she had on could barely be considered a skirt, it made his pants suddenly get tighter.

He shifted between his feet as she turned around, a tight lip smile aimed towards her. Of course she returned a toothy grin with a short laugh, he was so cute she couldn’t get enough.

Y/n thought her plan was working, she felt like she was really getting him to open up to her and like her. But whenever she felt like she was getting somewhere his awkwardness would return and that feeling in her gut started blooming. The one that made her doubt herself, what if she had come on too strong back inside and that’s why he was being awkward?

Rafe watched her from where he stood by the pool table. She was waiting for the bartender to finish making someone their drink before ordering her second round when some random guy went up to her. From what Rafe could see it seemed like she wasn’t really enjoying the guy’s company.

He gripped his beer bottle in his hands as the guy stepped closer to y/n. She was giving him polite smiles and nods as he went on about who knows what.

The walk to the bar was mostly quiet between the two. A somewhat comfortable silence that was filled with small talk. Even after the moments they had pouring liquor into each other’s mouths they couldn’t be normal around each other. Especially Rafe. Anytime his shoulder would brush against hers he’d step over a little not wanting to make her uncomfortable. When in reality she wanted him to wrap his arm around her because she was cold and because he smelled good. The tequila hadn’t had much of an affect on him anymore so any confidence he had with her was diminished.

“Dude it’s your turn,” Topper nudged him trying to get his attention.

Rafe turned to him trying to act as if he’d been watching him try to get the ball in the pocket. He rolled his eyes, “Eager to lose Top.” Topped chuckled shaking his head not wanting to call out his best friend on his staring problem.

He set his beer down and slightly leaned over the pool table as he aligned the stick with the ball. He still had a clear view of y/n, of course he was still looking up at her every second as he adjusted his position. He pulled the stick back as before pushing it forward between his fingers he looked up and his heart rate picked up.

The guy that has been bothering her had put his hand on his girl. He had put his hand on the small of her back, his body pressing against her side as she uncomfortably shifted away from him. It was clear she didn’t want him near her and he wasn’t getting the hint. What made if even clearer was when y/n’s eyes met his from across the room, a desperate look in her eyes.

Rafe could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he grew more angry. He dropped the stick onto the table not bothering to say anything to Topper or anyone else. He took long strides over to them not wanting her to be in that situation any longer. He bumped into a few people on the way but he didn’t care enough to apologize, his eyes zeroed in on her.

Once he was standing behind her Rafe shoved himself between her and the creep. At first y/n was worried it was another creepy guy but as soon as she smelt the familiar dior cologne she knew it was Rafe. The whole time this guy James was talking to her she had been hoping Rafe could read her mind of her pleading him to help her. She had seen him watching them and for a second she felt a sense of pride as she saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that.

Then the guy noticed that she wasn’t too into whatever he was talking about and decided to touch her to get her attention. Y/n had been leaning on the bar watching the bartender make her drink not full turned to him to hint that she wasn’t interested. When she felt the hand on her lower back she tried leaning away, him thinking that means he should get closer. Panic filled her eyes as she felt helpless, usually ignoring them or politely turning them down would turn guys away but not this one.

Before he could get even closer is when she smelt that amazing dior cologne. Rafe gave the guy a shove, not too hard to where he’d draw attention. He didn’t want to make y/n more uncomfortable by getting the whole bar’s attention by starting a fight.

“Hands off my girlfriend,” Rafe said his voice laced with venom. She stepped to the side but still behind Rafe to look at the scene in front of her. Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks beginning to feel hot like she just took another shot of tequila.

James scoffed putting his hands up in defense, “Dude she was the one coming on to me.” Y/n scoffed glaring at him in disgust.

She was opening her mouth to say something when Rafe laughed mockingly, “Yeah I doubt she’d give you the time of day even if she was single. Go the fuck away now.”

Rafe turned around to her, barely any space between them. His brows furrowed in concern as he took in her glassy eyes and pink cheeks, “Are you okay?”

He looked even more handsome when he was worried about her. She wasn’t even thinking about the situation she was just in all she could think about was Rafe. Maybe her plan had worked.

She cleared her throat trying to find her voice, “uh yeah. yes. Can we actually go outside?” The room had started to feel too hot and stuffy, or maybe her body was just over heating from their closeness.

He nodded, “Come on, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd. His much taller and wider frame creating a path for her.

Once outside she felt like she could breathe again until Rafe turned to her again and her eyes met his. He was so beautiful it hurt her to think about how maybe he just said what he said to help her. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. She wished he would just talk to her like he talked to everyone else and flirt with her like he did with every girl or like he did a couple hours ago in her kitchen.

“Y/n are you okay,” He asked her again letting go of her hand not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He immediately regretted it and wanted to reach for her again. Rafe wanted to move her hair out of her face and stroke her cheek.

She gave him her best smile even though he could see a sadness behind her eyes, “I’m fine Rafe, I could have taken that guy. It was just hot in there.” She tried to play off.

“You’re lying,” He said softly, “why do you seem sad? I can go back in there and punch the guy.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I’m not sad about that.”

“Then what is it? I can help.”

She huffed not really wanting to tell him but knowing she had to rip the bandaid off at some point, “Rafe why don’t you like me? Well I think you like me now. But before why was it only me you never talked to or even any ounce of attention to? But then you like step in and save me from a weirdo and act all concerned so I’m just confused.” She felt like a weight lifted off of her shoulders finally getting what’s been bothering her off her chest.

Rafe stood dumbfounded and feeling the world’s biggest dick. He didn’t think that she had noticed how weird he was around her and now he’s finding out she thinks he hates her. He should be punching himself. It takes him a few seconds to find the right words to say.

“Y/n you’ve always had all of my attention. I-I am always looking at you, in the least creepy way possible,” He sighed finally confessing, “Whenever I’m around you I-I can’t be that Rafe everyone expects of me because you make me nervous. You’re perfect. You’re so nice, funny, beautiful, the smartest person I know, and gorgeous. I was afraid I’d do something stupid or mess up and you’d think I was just some dumb jock.”

She stepped closer to him leaving no distance between them. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him, “Rafe I’ve liked you since I met you. I-I have been dying for you to do something for so long now, please don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

How could Rafe say no? Her big eyes staring up at him with her warm palms on his chest that were now sliding up his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He grabbed her waist firmly bringing her impossibly closer. That nerve racked Rafe was gone as soon as he heard her say she liked him. He felt like himself now, moving with confidence as he walked backwards pressing her against the side of the bar.

At the same time that her back hit the wall he leaned down and connected his lips with her soft plump ones. She let out and soft moan at the feeling she had been craving since she saw him for the first time. Y/n didn’t even care that her back and hair were pressed agains the dirty wall because one of Rafe Cameron’s hands were sliding up her body and wrapping around her throat gently.

He kissed her with fervor trying to make up for lost time. And oh boy was Rafe already planning on just how he was going go make up for it. After a few minutes they pulled away breaths mixing together as they stayed close to each other.

“Wow,” She whispered before a giggle slipped past her lips. She had finally kissed him.

He laughed with her feeling the same giddiness she did. He reached up brushing some strands of her eyes, “I’m sorry I’ve been an idiot. Let me take you home and make it up to you.”

She nodded shyly. Suddenly not knowing how to act around the Rafe she had been praying to see, “Yes please.”

He smirked leaning forward and pressing a kiss below her ear. He nudged his nose against her ear before softly saying, “Please? Well aren’t you a good girl.”

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