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“Who’s calling?” Your husband, Nanami, huffs from above you, his hips snapping into you. Your teary eyes glance at your phone while you let out small whimpers. “I-it’s our son.” You breathe out, your thighs tremble beneath his hands holding them down beside you.

Nanami groans and stuffs his dick fully into you, a whine escaping your lips as he picks up the phone. Between his work schedule and your 4 kids, there isn’t time for you and your husband to partake in a your shared activities other than the few times you guys got creative.

There was this one time you guys had your oldest watch the kids while you guys went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, which ended in a quickie in the dark parking lot before heading home.

Or the other time you guys had a pool day and you went inside to start getting the snacks ready. Nanami followed shortly after to have himself his own quick snack. Both of your days are pretty busy, but Nanami never fails to make some time for you and your pussy. You can admit sex hasn’t really been a priority, until tonight. Upon realizing all the kids would be gone, you immediately called Nanami to be sure he brings his ass home when he is off and not do any overtime- yes you used your mom voice too. Nanami agreed not wanting to be scolded.

When he did get home, he noticed a few things, there was any tv on, or music blasting from your two oldest rooms. There weren’t toys scattered in the living room or the dining room table from your two youngest, no yelling or screaming from all of them in general, it was just quiet. He smelt food in the air, he usually does every night he comes home but it’d be already eaten, or everyone will be eating at the dinner table (he insists not to wait for him because he often stays late) but since he left early from work, it isn’t ready just yet. He quickly rushes up the stairs, starting to feel the panic seep in just a bit, all the kids rooms are empty.

He opens his shared bedroom to see you just laying on your stomach, in the silky robe he got you, reading a book. He calms down because if you were okay, surely, the kids were too. His eyes gaze down your figure, your feet are in the air crossed, while you read. The robe sits at your upper thigh, and since it’s so thin, your ass pops out in the most desirable way possible. “Honey?” He eyes you suspiciously, taking a breath as he starts to settle down, “Where are the kids.”

You heard the front door shut, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the arousal hit you even more. The book you have been reading had been in your mind, and hearing your husband come home really made you ready to take him, full. You had dinner cooking in the oven, almost ready to serve for just Nanami and you. Your oldest son is at a movie with his friends and they are going to go eat after. Your second oldest daughter is spending the night with her best friend, and your two youngest are sleeping over with their grandparents. To say you were practically rushing your oldest son to leave already, since he was the last one to go, was an understatement.

“They are busy and safe.” You closed the book and turn your body towards him, your eyes hungry before you looked at him, but damn near starving when you did. That damn suit and tie. You explained where they all were as you sat up in the bed, impulsively pushing your chest out as you leaned back on your arms. Nanami didn’t ignore the lustful look in your eye, the way your nipples perked against the thin fabric, only assuming you had nothing on underneath. He quickly put a few things together, why you called him to not do overtime. He knew what his wife wanted, at least he thought so.

When your sweet loving husband started off kissing your neck, waiting to use the few hours to just worship your body, you, your hands cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye, “Honey, I love you so much and I know that you do but tonight-right now I need you to fuck me like you don’t. I want y-“ His eyes darkens more at your plea, how desperate you were truly. How can he ever say no to his gorgeous wife. He cuts you off with a kiss before he started fucking you every way loose. Yes exactly what I said. But of course no matter what time it is, you guys are parents after all….

“What?” Nanami answers the call, still buried deep inside you, grinding against you as his thumb circles your clit.

“..Oh Hey dad, where’s mo-“

“She’s busy, are you okay, why are you blowing up her phone?” Nanami cuts your son off, his eyes focused on you squirming around, biting your lip to keep any lewd sounds hushed while he was on the phone with your son. He speeds up his movements on your clit, softly sucking in a breath when you clench tightly around his dick.

“I wanna buy some snacks and get some food after the movie, mom said she’ll send me m-“

“How much?” Nanami asked wanting him to get to the point so he can get back to his wife. He slowly pulling out before pushing himself back in. Your hand quickly covers your mouth as you shut your eyes. Your legs were shaking crazy. Your husband wasn’t one to always be rough in bed, but the times he is, you would feel it for days, in the best way possible. (He has that dog in him😞) Nanami definitely isn’t holding back, not when it’s been this long you guys were kid free for a few hours and together at that. Nanami was making up for lost time, fingering you until you couldn’t talk properly, eating your pussy like it personally offended him, fucking you left, right, up, down, diagonal, all up until your phone kept blowing up.

“Like about $40.”

“Okay, give me a moment.” Nanami grunts, as he bottoms out again, the way you squeezed his dick nearly knocked him out cold. He feels his dick throb inside you and pulls the phone away from his ear, breathing heavy.

“Thanks d-“

Nanami hangs up the phone and tosses it beside you before leaning in closer to you, peeling your hand away from your mouth and pulling it above your head. “Tell me something honey.” He hums kissing your swollen lips.

You whimper as he fucks you again, slow but rough this time, ”y-yes?” You gasp as he hits your cervix.

“When the kids ask for money, do you send it to them from my account?” He looks into your eyes, sweat dripping down his head watching your reaction to his question really his dick.

You’re screwed. Both literally and physically.

“Not alwa- o-ooh shit.” You moan, his hips moving faster than light. Nanami absolutely hates when you use your own money, hell, even when you were working. When you guys first started dating he already knew you were going to be his wife. Nanami would always say you didn’t need to work but you didn’t want him to be the sole provider. Eventually, you guys moved in together and you were still working. Though, he convinced you to work less hours and took you out on a date when you agreed. It wasn’t until you got pregnant with your first baby, did his wish come true. Shit, he was more excited when you both went down to your job to quit than he was to see the 2 pink lines.

“All the hours I work, being kept away from our family, my perfect wife -ngghh- my perfect wife’s pussy. And you still insist on usi-fuck- using your own money when you have access to my money- no our money, shit your money.” He moans grabbing your other hand and pulling it above your head with your other.

“Y-you pay for e-ever-“

“I’m supposed to baby. I want to.” He interrupts you, lifting your legs to his shoulders, and grabbing your phone with his free hand and sending your son $100 from his account. “Why must you make things complicated, love. I am the man, it’s my job to take care of you, our family. Let *thrust* me. Use my money for the kids, the house, the cars, whatever it is, I have enough, more than.” He kisses your lips softly, opposite to his thrusts. “Use your money I give you for you, whatever you want for you- shit for you. Everything I do is for you, everything I make, it’s yours, ours on paper, but it’s all yours. All for you.” He grunts into your ear, as if he’s teaching a lesson. Technically, he is.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t using my money first again, okay hun?” He hums at you, a moaning teary mess.

“Now where were we?” He smiles before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass up and spanking it. “Oh, right.” He chuckles as he spreads your cheeks apart, seeing your drooling sensitive pussy, clenching on air.

*edited but not proofread*

More:

Pussywhipped!Choso | part 2

Married!Eren x Maid!Reader

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Snickerdoodle pt. v

pairing(s): Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader summary: You try to navigate the complexities of a relationship involving Art and his wife, Tashi, as well as their boyfriend, Patrick. warnings: smut 18+, like three different sex scenes at least, masturbation, threesomes, consensual voyeurism, piv, everyone is bisexual, the trio kinda shares reader, adults (parents even) running around like horny college students, a bit of domesticity, silly poly adventures, hastily proofread word count: 6.5K prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s feels like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You quickly snatch your hand away from Tashi’s neck. She clears her throat, and you bring both palms to smooth down your thighs. 

The sun isn’t shining as brightly as it was before, but it’s enough to feel exposed under the scrutiny of Art. 

Though, you can tell that he isn’t angry about what he just walked in on. Instead, he looks like he wants to get a closer look, but stayed back out of fear of interrupting.

He’s still standing in the doorway when you remember the reason you were there in the first place. 

“Wait—where’s Kaleb?” You gasp.

“He’s uh,” Art stammers. “I left him back in the kitchen. He wanted a post-training shake.” He’s got his hands on his waist as he continues to assess the two of you. “I told him I was gonna go find you guys…” he trails off, finally making his way closer to the couch that you two are occupying. 

You peer up at him like a child about to be corrected. 

“So, uh, what’s this?” He says dragging his hand under his chin like he’s amused. 

“Um,” you glance at Tashi. She’s sporting an equally amused expression as she takes in Art’s still evident bulge. You go to answer, but she beats you to it. 

“What’s it look like?” 

Art’s eyes cut to hers, and they appear to have a conversation between their gazes that you aren’t privy to. You decide that’s your cue and stand to leave the room. 

Just when you think you’re going to slip past, Art catches your wrist in his hand. 

“Where’re you going?” His voice comes out in that gentle, calm tone that you’ve come to expect from him, but his eyes are sharp. His gaze alone making you feel like he’s holding you down with a hand wrapped around your neck. 

“I was gonna go get Kaleb,” you murmur. 

“Alright,” he brings a hand to your waist. “Just a second?” 

You nod despite yourself. 

His thumb rubs over your hip, making you shiver slightly. He drags his eyes down your figure before looking over to Tashi. You follow him.

She’s staring at the both of you, lip tugged between her teeth. Her legs are crossed neatly. The hungry look in her eyes does nothing to deter from the regality she’s currently exuding. 

You’re still staring at the visage of Tashi when you feel Art’s lips capture yours, pulling your attention back to him. 

You melt into him, instinctively bringing your hands to trail up his arms. His skin is slightly damp and cool to the touch as your fingertips trace the muscles that flex as he wraps his arms around you tighter. He presses the palm of his hand against your spine as your head tilts back to allow him into your mouth. 

The way Art kisses you is familiar, yet the feel of him still ignites something in your belly. It’s almost violent, the way it completely takes you over. Nothing else exists. Just his lips, his tongue. His hands that pull you closer to him. His teeth that nip at your skin. Just him. 

You gasp out his name as he dips his head down to press open mouthed kisses along your jaw. He has you fully pressed up against his front, one hand cradling your head and the other holding you in place by the hip. You release a shaky moan when you feel his tongue lave at the skin below your ear. 

There’s an almost imperceptible creak behind you, but Art’s ministrations keep you fixed on him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs continuing to place kisses onto your skin. “Y’know that?” 

Before you can respond, you feel a hand snake around your waist. It’s not Art’s. 

You look down to see their slender fingers traveling down your hipbone and shudder when you feel stiff nipples press into your back. 

Tashi carefully pulls your hair away from your neck, placing a delicate kiss to the skin there. The motion makes you arch your back into her, which she takes as an indication of your consent. 

Your breathing starts to dramatically increase as you take in the feel of Tashi’s hands sliding over your body along with Art’s. He wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours as she takes over nipping at your neck from behind. 

Tashi seems to enjoy pinching your skin between her teeth and watching as it makes you squirm in their hold. One bite in particular makes you whine into Art’s mouth. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently shushing you as she rolls her tongue over the stinging skin to soothe you. 

You whimper, but relax into them once again. 

Art cups your face in his hands, whispering “good girl” against your plush lips. Your pulse quickens at his praise. 

You want to fuck him so bad. Both of them. 

And when Tashi lithely brings her hands under your top, trails her nails up your skin before pinching your nipples, you almost give in. 

But you remember the reason you’re here. 

“Wait,” you reluctantly pull away. 

Tashi releases her hold on you, and Art steps backwards to give you some space. But he grabs ahold of your hand instead, not ready to let you go just yet. 

You rub your thumb over his hand in yours. “I need to go,” you say softly. “I’ve gotta get Kaleb home.” 

He nods, allowing you to release his hand. 

You clear your throat. “And, um, I also think I need some time to…think about all of this.” 

Art looks confused by your statement. As if reading his mind, Tashi answers for you. 

“Yeah, of course, you probably need some time to process,” she reassures you, but her gaze is locked on her husband. Her eyes telling him “let her have this, don’t push her.” 

When you find Kaleb, he’s knocked out on the sofa, clearly worn out from the day. His protein shake from before sits half full on the coffee table. Art tells you that it’s more banana smoothie than anything. He offers to carry him to the car, buckling him into his booster seat. After softly shutting the door, he makes his way to your side. 

“You’re not upset are you?” He’s giving you that look. The one he makes before resorting to groveling. 

You sigh. “No, Art, I just,” you glance at your son through the window. He’s still sound asleep. “I just found out some things today that surprised me. About our relationship.”

He swallows before leaning his side against your car, head hanging low as he takes in your words. 

“I didn’t know Tashi knew about us.” You say simply. 

Art raises his head. “I—I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoff. “Of course it was, Art! You know that would’ve made things easier for me.” You cut a glance at Kaleb again as he shifts in his car seat. You wince before lowering your voice. “I felt like I was your mistress, Art, why didn’t you tell me the truth?” You ask. “And I don’t buy it’s because you didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You raise your eyebrows at him as he picks at his fingers. “Art?” 

He sighs, stepping away from the car before turning to face you fully. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into that.” You furrow your brows. He stammers to fix his statement. “I mean I didn’t know if you would want to get involved in a situation like ours. It was almost easier to just not talk about any of it,” he trails off. “And I could pretend I was just a normal guy who met this wonderful woman. And I didn’t want to ruin it.” He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. 

Art’s voice softens. “But I know it was selfish of me to avoid it because of my own comfort. I should’ve been transparent with you from the beginning.” 

You only cross your arms. 

Art steps closer to you. “I promise I was going to talk to you about it—about everything…especially now that I—“ 

“Even about Patrick?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Were you planning to tell me about that as well?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “I was also going to tell you about Patrick.” He reaches for your hand that’s tucked into your arm. 

You’ve learned that, for Art, part of the communication process is maintaining a physical connection. It’s like if he isn’t touching you in some way, the words won’t resonate. So, you let him take your hand in his. 

“I also wasn’t sure how’d you’d react to that,” he mumbles. “Not everyone is keen on finding out that the man they’re sleeping with is also attracted to men.” 

You almost can’t believe him. “Art—“ you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “It’s me. Of course I don’t care that you aren’t straight, hell, neither am I.” You laugh lightly. It brings a soft smile to his face. 

“If anything, it would’ve been good to know before I slept with him,” you say, quickly looking off before he can process your words. 

“Wait, what?” 

You sigh internally. 

“When did this happen?”

You try to wave him off. “Oh it was just a random thing a little while ago. We were both high, and I’d ran into him at a gas station one time, and it was my anniversary week, and you were busy and it just happened…” you say, stringing all your words together. “You know how it is.” 

He shakes his head. “When were you planning on telling me about this?”

You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze. 

Art sighs at your lack of response. “You know what? Let’s save that for a later conversation.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say as you turn to check on Kaleb. “I’d better go,” you nod your head in his direction. 

Art takes a look at your son before agreeing. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He lingers in his driveway until you’ve buckled your seatbelt, making you promise to text him when you’ve made it home safely. 

ᯓ

You take some time to process the situation you’ve ended up in. It’s harder than you’d expected. You’d gotten so used to Art’s presence in your life that not seeing him makes you feel like an addict going through withdrawals. Your fingers itch to text him when you see something he’d like, and you yearn to at least hear his voice at night when you’re alone in bed and devastatingly horny. 

Some nights, when you're at your lowest, you wonder if Art is also thinking of you, if he ever touches himself to the thought. You bite your lip, maybe he buries himself in the warmth of Tashi to cull the ache, or maybe it's Patrick he turns to.

You ease the throbbing between your thighs to the looping thought of him and Tashi and Patrick, and Art and Tashi, and Patrick and Art.

Despite it all, you reluctantly ignore Art’s requests to meet up, emphasizing that you just need a bit more time. You don’t think you can handle seeing him. 

In truth, you’re feeling scared again. Although Tashi had effectively shown you that she was a willing participant in this, your nerves still get the best of you. Your anxiety working to come up with all types of catastrophic outcomes. 

Worries triggered by deeply rooted insecurities fester in your brain like what if Art and Tashi really are using you? What if this is just a temporary thing? Something to spice up their marriage. Maybe the Patrick thing wasn’t enough for them. Will they drop you once they’ve gotten their fix? 

And even worse, what if it’s not just a fling? What if you can’t ever imagine going back to how your life was before Art? How would it even work? How would Kaleb react? 

It's evidently clear how much Kaleb adores Lily, but you're not sure how he'd approach the idea of possibly being step-siblings. God, how would you ever begin to explain the the complexities of your relationship to an eight year old?

Thinking about it makes your head throb and your stomach churn. So, you settle for avoidance. You don’t have to confront the unknown if you never encounter it. Easy. 

ᯓ

Unfortunately, your attempt at going cold turkey with the Donaldson’s is thwarted when you see them at a PTA meeting. You’d gotten there early, as usual. Nancy’s husband, Frank, had helped you carry your cookie-filled containers into the building. You think he might just enjoy getting first dibs on whatever goodies you've decided to bring.

You’re surprised to see Tashi as she’d stopped regularly attending them after Art retired. She chooses the seat next to yours, placing her purse down before draping her Burberry coat over the chair. Art pulls out the seat beside her, stealing a glance at you as he settles in. 

For the entirety of the meeting, you’re completely distracted. You keep glancing at Tashi’s long legs that are crossed beside you, your eyes trailing from the pointed toes of her shoes up to where her hands are clasped in her lap. You think you’re being discreet, but when Tashi stands to greet amigurumi Cynthia, who’s eager to tell her about the new options on her Etsy shop, Art catches your eyes with a sly smirk. 

Most of the parents have started to leave, but you remain seated, unable to free yourself from this obvious trap.

Art takes the opportunity to slide into Tashi’s empty seat, smug smile still stamped onto his face. You look down at the napkin he’s holding with a half-eaten snickerdoodle cookie. “So, how are you?” He asks before taking another bite. He's trying to ease his way into it, you can tell. He presents the question so casually, but underneath that cool collectedness, you know he intends to ensnare you.

Your chest rises as you inhale. “Hmmm, it’s a Monday night, and I’m stuck here,” you tease. “But I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yeah, and at least we have good snacks.” He offers. 

You nod in agreement before gesturing for his cookie. He holds it out to you and you pinch off a piece before bringing it to your mouth. Art watches as your tongue darts out to lick the crumbs that stick to your lipgloss. Whatever is swirling around in his gaze is exactly why you’ve been avoiding him lately. 

You swallow when Art turns to face you. His hair has gotten longer, making his curls drape over his forehead as he leans against the chair. He gives you a soft grin. “So…how do you feel about going to get dinner tonight?”

And there it is.

“Oh…um,” you start, searching for an excuse. 

“Before you start, I know your mom keeps Kaleb on days like this.” 

You curse internally. “Okay, well what about Lily?”  

“She’s at home with Patrick.” 

You glance over at Tashi, who’s attempting to end her conversation with Cynthia, and begin to open your mouth. 

“And Tashi’s fine with it. It was her idea.” He says, absolutely beaming. 

You sigh and stand up from your chair. 

He leans forward, elbows pressed into his knees. “So, what do you say?”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll come.” 

The two of them help you pack up your containers, patiently waiting as you open the trunk and instruct them on where to place them. When you turn around from shutting the trunk, Tashi steps forward, closing the distance between you two.

It feels eerily similar to a night, mere months ago, in that very same parking lot. 

“Thanks for agreeing to dinner,” she says softly, reaching out to rub her palm down your arm. Even through the sleeve of your puffer coat, you shiver at her touch. Thankfully, it’s cold out, so you can blame it on the temperature. 

ᯓ

About an hour later, you’re seated at a cozy restaurant, tucked into the corner booth. It's not especially busy, but a delicate clatter of voices and clinking utensils accompany the soft jazz that's playing. You’re sandwiched between Art and Tashi as they talk about the first time they met. 

They tell you about the Junior U.S. Open, how both Art and Patrick asked for Tashi’s number, how she had promised not to be a homewrecker. You smile wistfully, the thought of them young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed making you feel a sense of nostalgia on their behalf. 

Tashi places her hand on your thigh for emphasis when she tells you that Art had been so adorable and polite. “All he wanted to talk about was how amazing my tennis was.” She grins at him before taking a sip from her glass. “That’s probably why I kissed him first.” 

“First?” You lift your brows. 

She nods. 

“So, did you like all kiss at the same time or…?” You ask, glancing between her and Art. 

She hums out a laugh. “Look, I was eighteen, you can’t blame me for not wanting to choose.” 

Art chuckles. “Well, what’s your excuse now?”

He’s joking, but you see the way his mouth slightly twitches. 

Tashi scans his face and purses her lips. “Two parasites latched onto me when I was young, and I still haven’t figured out how to remove them.” 

This seems to bring a genuine smile to his face. He looks at you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You shake your head at their antics. You think that maybe you can relate to eighteen year old Tashi. 

It should feel odd. Being on what feels like a date with the man you’ve been having an affair with and his wife. Yet, when you all leave the restaurant, and they walk you back to your car, one of them on each side, you think that it feels surprisingly natural. 

When Tashi leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, you sigh into the cool night, eyes fluttering shut. 

And when Art inevitably presses his forehead to yours before kissing your tingling lips, you know this is something you won’t be able to avoid any longer.

ᯓ

Before long, you fall into a routine with the two of them. They take every opportunity they can to wine and dine you, and when Tashi is working, Art has no trouble keeping you occupied. 

The time you spend with him is not much different from before. Except now, instead of coming to your place every time, you spend the night with him on your free weekends. 

Art lets out a deep sigh that reverberates through him when he finally sinks into your cunt in his marital bed. He presses you into downy pillows that smell like his wife and whispers words of praise. Telling you how perfect your pussy is, how you feel so good around him. You get high on it, head almost exploding from the rush of it all.

Maybe it’s the freedom that’s come from you all being on the same page, but sex with Art ascends to a higher level. Without the guilt weighing you down, the only thing you feel in your gut when you’re with him is his cock as he pounds into you. 

Art fucks you like he’s determined to make you never want to leave him. Every stroke feels purposeful. Every motion communicating something you’ve feared confronting. 

After Art coaxes a third orgasm out of you one night, you cling to his tacky body as hot tears spill from your eyes. 

He’s quick to wipe them with his thumb, asking if you’re alright. You can only nod and sniffle as you let him hold you and press kisses to your tear stained face. 

He says something to you, but the words don’t register as you give in to the seduction of sleep, your body having been exhausted beyond repair. The three words he’d uttered float over your head and disappear into the dark.

ᯓ

Art and Kaleb continue their tennis lessons. Apparently, he’s showing a considerable amount of potential. And Art’s eyes light up when he boasts about how much Kaleb has improved since they started. 

He wins his first junior tournament, and you swear you see Art wipe a tear. He ignores your taunts and asks Kaleb how he’d like to celebrate. Without reservation, he excitedly asks to get ice cream with Lily. 

It’s late November, and the night air is likely too brisk for it, but you and Art agree to take them to their favorite ice cream shop. You hesitantly let Lily order for you, as she’d asked you to pick out a table for them and urged you to “trust the process.” 

You watch them with a smile on your face as Kaleb all but presses his face to the glass obnoxiously, which makes Lily pull him by the arm and say something that you can’t hear. Whatever it is makes your son roll his eyes, but he uses his sleeve to wipe the spot where he’d left condensation on the glass. 

When the three of them join you at a table next to the window, Lily instructs Art to feed you her surprise concoction as her and Kaleb await your reaction. You close your eyes before playfully glaring at them in suspicion, then let Art place the spoon in your mouth. 

“How is it?” 

“Hmm…chocolatey.” You answer. “I like it.” You take the cup and spoon from Art as you dig into your chocolate ice cream with M&M's sprinkled on top. Lily grins as Kaleb insists on trying yours. Art chose strawberry flavored, to which you wrinkle your nose. 

Later, the two of you sneak a kiss after the kids fall asleep in the backseat, and you decide you can’t get enough of the taste of strawberries.

When Art drops you and Kaleb off at home, he tells you goodbye with a quick kiss to your hand. You’re smiling from ear to ear as the cool wind whips your hair around. He attempts to say those three words again, but he’s interrupted by Lily groaning loudly from the car that her tummy hurts. When he turns back to you, you’re already chasing after Kaleb who’s run to the front door holding his trophy over his head. 

ᯓ

“Don’t look at him,” Tashi tuts at you. “Keep your eyes right here, baby.” She tilts your chin up with her index finger, forcing you to look at her.

You tear your eyes away from Art where he kneels on the bed next to Tashi. Like her, he’s completely naked. His cock is bobbing between his milky thighs, still shiny from your spit and his precum.

Tashi had rubbed your clit as you sucked him off moments ago. But, she pulled you off of him before he got a chance to cum, making you lay down under her.

You toss your head back when she aligns her pussy with yours, mouth falling open. 

She starts gently rocking back and forth, your clits bumping and sticking to each other.

She turns her head in Art’s direction and takes his mouth in hers. You cant your hips up to meet hers as you take in the way their mouths move against one another. 

“You like seeing me fuck your little toy?” Tashi whispers into Art’s mouth. He groans her name, mouth open wantonly against hers. 

“Look at her, baby, she’s so pretty like this, huh?” 

Art nods and tries to reach out a hand to touch you, any part of you, but Tashi places a hand on his wrist. 

“Hold on.” She looks at you. “You want him?”

You keenly nod your head. 

“Say please,” she murmurs, still grinding into you. 

You choke out a moan. “Please, Tashi can I—can I have him?”

She looks at Art and nods her head down at you, giving him permission to touch. 

Art leans down to grab your face between his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.  

Then, he’s shimmying himself down to the bed to lie down beside you. He finds your neck and starts trailing kisses there. You arch your back as he tweaks your nipple with his thumb and forefinger before skimming down your stomach. 

He replaces his fingers with his mouth as Tashi continues to use your cunt. Art’s eyes flutter shut when he closes his mouth around one of your nipples. He releases a muffled moan, and you realize he’s grinding his dick between the space created by your hip and the mattress. 

He tries to inch his hand down lower, where yours and Tashi’s pussies are kissing each other. When his fingertips brush your clit, you shudder, and Tashi slaps his hand away. 

He easily recovers, bringing his palm up to caress under your breasts. 

Art seeks out your mouth again, moans into it as the rutting of his hips begins to sync with the motion of Tashi rocking against you.

You gasp. “It’s too much—m'gonna—”

Art whines against your mouth, and you feel his hot cum coat your thigh as his hips stutter against you. Tashi releases a guttural moan that makes you reach out for her. She presses her fingers onto your tongue as you begin to convulse below her. 

You can feel her throbbing against you when you come down from your high. Art’s head is pressed against yours as he stares at where you and his wife are still connected. 

Before climbing off of you, Tashi splays her palm over Art’s face, pushing him backwards, mumbling about how he “made a mess.”

You giggle in agreement, making him bite down onto your bare shoulder with mock annoyance.

Tashi walks to their large master bathroom, her nude hips swaying. You peel your eyes away from her as you turn your head to face Art. 

He smiles softly before rubbing his nose against yours. You’re giddy, and your eyes are twinkling, and Art feels like his heart is beating too fast to breathe. He has your full attention, so he says it. 

“I love you.”

The words have no place to go but to your ears. Without thinking, you pull him in by the back of his neck, press your forehead against his, your eyes locking. “I love you too.”

ᯓ

“You know I think it’s really unfair that you make me babysit while the three of you fuck without me.” 

“Oh, please, spare me, Patrick,” Art says as he bumps his shoulder against his on his way around the kitchen island. 

“No, I’m serious, you two’ve basically been courting her,” he points at Tashi and Art. “As I stay at home playing Stepford wife,” he pouts. “When do I get my turn with her?” 

“Wow, Patrick, your turn?” You sneer at him. “I’m not a pony.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” he says, grinning at you. “When do I get my second turn?” 

“Oh, screw you!” You say shoving him by the arm. “Is that all I am to you?” 

Tashi tries to hide her laugh in her cup of coffee. 

You attempt to maintain your scowl of disapproval, but the steam seeps out of you when Patrick envelops you in his arms from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Of course not. You know I like you for your big…brain.” 

You roll your eyes at his inability to be serious about anything, but instinctually lean back into his chest. 

The two of you hadn’t slept together since your rainy day way back when, and not for his lack of trying or your lack of desire. The tension between you two threatened to boil over at any moment, but you thought it was a good idea to ease into this thing with the trio.

So, you had refrained from fucking Patrick, but you did spend time together when possible. When he wasn't busy with tennis, which wasn't very often.

Despite his foolishness, Patrick makes a good friend. He’s surprisingly easy to vent to. You never have to worry about the risk of him passing judgment.

Like the time you’d gone on a rant about your ex-husband and his fiancée.

“I mean it’s fucking sickening the way she acts so polite now! The bitch had the nerve to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids, Patrick! Her bridesmaid.”

He frowned at you around his cigarette. “Ugh, that’s fucked.”

"That’s what I said!"

“I hope she has a freak accident before the wedding,” he murmured. “Maybe not fatal, but like a coma or something so you don’t have to deal with her.”

“Ugh, no, that would only delay the process and give Chris a reason to play victim for however long,” you said dismissively. “I can hear him now,”you deepened your voice to imitate him. “I can't believe you’d try to hold me accountable for my wrongdoings at a time like this. My freaking fiancée is in a coma.”

Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, true, but honestly, that bastard would probably ditch her anyway. It’s hard to be a trophy wife from a hospital bed.”

ᯓ

He has a way of looking at you and seeing through all the layers. In a way, you think you two were bound to bond, both being connected to a married couple.

During moments like this, when you’re all together, it feels like you’re less outnumbered. Though, you suppose Art clings to you too much to ever really be free of him, not that you’d want to anyway. The two of you had been attached at the hip ever since he told you he loved you. Patrick had joked that you were in the honeymoon phase.

Tashi leans across the marble countertop, and pats Patrick on the cheek. “Aww do you feel left out?” She coos to him before pushing herself up from the barstool. 

He brushes off her derision opting to focus on eating the rest of your breakfast croissant.

Art can’t help but snicker as Tashi gushes to Patrick about how good you taste coming on her tongue. She goes to place her mug in the sink before grabbing a handful of your ass, making you gasp as her nails poke into your skin. Patrick groans around his croissant and glares at Art, his face already tinted pink. 

Tashi leans her forehead against yours, the two of you giggling before she pecks your nose sweetly. “Okay, I have to go,” she sighs. 

You nod, but pull her in for a kiss on the lips, dreading the end of your time together. You had been spending the weekend with them while Kaleb stayed at his dad’s. But, Tashi would be leaving for the day as she had an event to attend. 

“Maybe the three of you can catch up while I’m gone,” she winks before squeezing Patrick’s shoulder. Art rolls his eyes at the implication, but he smiles when Tashi whispers something in his ear on the way out. 

ᯓ

After debating about how to spend your day, you begrudgingly agree to join Art and Patrick on the tennis court. The sun is offering enough heat for you to feel comfortable as you chase Patrick’s serves. You start out teaming up with Art, the two of you playing against him. 

Patrick quickly figures out that he can win by aiming between the two of you. Art, ever the gentleman, only returns the ones Patrick serves directly to him, leaving you the opportunity to hit the ball. While you, on the other hand, assume that Art’s going to get it, leaving no one to actually return the ball. Once the two of you get on the same page, Patrick has won enough games to win the entire match. 

When you switch, and Art later beats you and Patrick, you start to think that maybe you’re the problem. 

You feel like a kid again, the three of you running around as your laughs ricochet against the court. You cheer when you manage to actually place the yellow ball where you want it to go. You had served an ace, but you're sure Art had purposely let you have it. By the time you’re done, you’re sweating and beaming. Art dabs your forehead with a towel, and Patrick gives you a piggy back ride back to the house. 

You swing your legs back and forth and place a kiss to his ear. It should gross you out when you taste the saltiness of his sweat on your lips, but it only makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

It occurs to you that you might’ve forgotten how to have fun as an adult. It’s been so long since you’ve felt true joy in a relationship. Your marriage to your ex had sapped you of your gleeful youth, and for awhile, you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. 

You hadn’t had the official “what are we talk” yet, but you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

So, when Patrick later dumps you onto the bed, after you’ve all had lunch and cleaned up, you sink into the mattress and let him press kisses all over your face. 

“I wanna eat you up,” he groans, the vibrations making you laugh as his beard scratches your jaw. 

You extend your arm out for Art who is already making his way towards the two of you. Both men hover above you, moving in sync as they mouth over your skin. Every so often their lips meet each other, tongues darting out to get a taste. 

Patrick promptly pulls the oversized t-shirt you stole from Art over your head, making your messy curls even more chaotic. 

“I’ve waited so long to fuck you again,” he says before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You try to tell him he’s being quite dramatic, but a moan interrupts you when he starts twirling his tongue around your hardened bud, at the same time as Art drags his wet mouth down your abdomen. 

He’s on a sure path toward your underwear, stopping to admire your face before dipping his fingers into the hem. 

Patrick gets impatient and places his hand over Art’s, making him tug your panties down faster. But before either of them can get their mouths on you, you raise your leg up and place the sole of your foot against his abdomen. Patrick looks up at you, his pupils dilated and eyebrows scrunched together. 

Art’s wearing a similar expression, and you can barely contain your grin as you push your foot forward, making Patrick raise up on his knees. You push yourself up and lean back on your palms. 

“Not yet, I wanna do something different,” you say coyly. 

“Yeah?” Art, always eager to please you, leans forward and plants a kiss on your collarbone. “What do you wanna do, baby?”

You trace the side of his face with your fingertips before tucking a few loose blonde strands behind his ear. “Show me what you do when it’s just the two of you.” 

Art almost chokes, clearly not having expected your request. Patrick smirks. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, crawling towards you. “Who would’ve taken you for a voyeur, huh?” 

“Shut up, Patrick,” you say, grabbing his jaw in your fingers. You level your face with his. “Just show me.” You say as your lips brush against his. “Can you do that for me?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says and pulls you into a rough kiss. You moan into it before pointedly shoving him off. 

With your heart thrumming and your lip tucked between your teeth, you inch backwards, propping yourself up against the headboard. You meet Art’s gaze, and all it takes is a short nod from you to snap him out of his trance. 

To your surprise, Art grabs for Patrick first. He leans down over him, pulling him in by the back of his neck. He uses his thumb to tilt Patrick’s head back as he deepens their kiss. You think you can feel the butterflies in your own belly as you know just what it feels like to have Art kiss you like that. 

He strips Patrick of his shirt, barely breaking the kiss and slowly lowers himself into his lap. They continue to make out sloppily for what feels like hours before Patrick brings his hands around Art’s waist and pushes his shirt up as well. It’s then that you notice, Art has been lazily rolling his hips into Patrick’s. The sight makes your clit throb, and you drum your fingers on your knee in an attempt to withhold from touching yourself.

Art laces his fingers through Patrick’s dark curls as he starts to plant sloppy kisses along Art’s jaw. He eventually licks a stripe up the side of his neck before nipping at his earlobe, to which Art bucks his hips forward. His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Just Patrick’s touch alone seems to be getting him off. 

Once they’ve rid each other of their remaining clothes, the two come back together. This time, Art traces figure eights along Patrick’s skin with his tongue as he lets his large palms roam over his body. When he gets to the small of his back, he bites down into his neck gently before spreading his cheeks apart and dipping his middle finger between them. 

You think they’ve both forgotten about you as they get lost in each other. Patrick takes both his and Art’s hard cocks into his hand, slowly jerking them.

You can’t resist it anymore. You bring your hand between your legs and start rubbing circles over your aching clit. 

The action must catch Patrick’s attention as he glances over at you with a sly smile. Suddenly, he leans over and cups his hand under your chin. He sticks his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, and motions for you to spit. 

You obey him and spit into his waiting hand. Patrick then takes your saliva and uses it to glide over his and Art’s members. 

Art releases a broken moan as Patrick’s hand moves around them faster. They start to take turns pushing their tongues into each other’s mouths. And at the same time, you dip your fingers into your slick and spread it over your clit. 

When Art starts circling his middle finger around Patrick’s hole and humping into his hand, your head falls back against the bed frame, your eyes still glued to them. 

Before long, they’re spurting white ropes of cum against each other as you follow behind in quick succession. 

You finish with a whine, your knees drawing together as you clench your thighs. 

Patrick is slumped against Art, his head laid on his shoulder as they both watch you. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he laughs, making Art also release a full bellied laugh, his eyes crinkling.

ᯓ

When Tashi comes home later, she flicks on the light to find the three of you in a pile on her bed. 

You’re halfway straddling Art, cheek pressed against his chest. Patrick’s heavy arm drapes over your back, his face shoved into Art's shoulder as he softly snores. 

She sighs at the spectacle. Yet when she goes to turn the lights off again, she wears a smile on her face. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I had to fight through a bout of writer's block and the pressures of being a senior in college to get this done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. <3 as always, my asks are open!

Tags: @fallout-girl219

Everyman gets his wish

P1

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!reader

Synopsis: The king of figure eight hooks up with a sweet doe eyed stranger a party. Thing is, he doesn’t know that she is everything he isn’t; a hard working Pogue.

Content warnings: Use of fem pronouns, smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood, mentions of class.

Word count: 6623

I've only read over this part once, there will be more. Let me know if I missed anything. xx

Tonight was the biggest night on the Kook calendar Midsummer, where the rich folks of Kildare congregated once a year to brag about their business and financial achievements and show off their wealth to one another.

Another year another midsummer but for you it was just another day working, serving drinks to the super rich.

To everyone here you were no one, nothing actually or at least that's what it felt like living on this island when you were around Kooks, they wouldn’t even look at you if you were on fire let alone when you poured their drinks and served them food. Most of them thought they were too good to even breathe the same air as you, especially the ones here.

Your whole life revolved around accommodating to kooks you were never on their side of the island unless you were  working even before you could work you could remember your time in figure eight with your mom as she cleaned the Cameron house. You had memories from as early as four years old following her around the house as she swept and folded their expensive clothes back then it ment nothing to you.

You got your work ethics from your mother. You worked your ass off serving drinks with a smile and a polite attitude despite the unlikeable personalities you had to endure, such as Ward Cameron. He behaved like he was committing an act of charity by just existing in your vicinity like you should be so greatful. Even when you were a kid and Sarah tried to befriend you, your mom told you to be careful not to upset Mr Cameron or his kids out of fear that she would lose her job if you did. It was bramatic but it was a very real possibility.

“I don’t know how much they pay you here but I'm sure it's enough to know how to make a proper Tom collins. Did you even put any Gin in this?” Ward snarked as his wife clung to his side with her obnoxiously big head piece threatening to poke out the eyes of her youngest step daughter.

“I'm so sorry sir. I can make you another one.” You offer with a tight lipped smile.

“Try to get it right this time, huh?”

“Dad, chill.” The blonde girl at his side snapped in your defence.

As you remade Ward’s tom collins your eyes flickered up to the group noticing the illustrious Rafe Cameron, not even looking fazed at the way his father was acting obviously used to it and absolutely fine with it. The family in front of you made you grateful that your family wasn’t anything like them, because despite their grand entrance and lavish clothing you could tell not a single one of them enjoyed the company.

“Here you go, sir.. Can I get you anything else?” You ask looking at the group for confirmation. 

“Macallan on the rocks.” Rafe requests from behind his family not even sparing you a single glance, of course.

“Good choice, it's a popular whiskey.” You say trying to brighten the bitter mood his father supplied only for Rafe to look you up and down with an even more bitter glare in response.

You’ve never had an issue with Rafe beyond his attitude which he’d had for as long as you could remember, the only time you could think of him not being like this was with his mom. She was always the only person he seemed to really like and she was the only person he would listen to, like the time Rafe joined in with you and Sarah playing tag and he tripped you if it hadn’t happened right in front of your eyes you wouldn’t have believed anyone could get him to apologise but his mom did.

You turn away from Rafe’s scrutiny to grab the bottle from the top self with the assistance of a small step ladder and as you reach for the bottle you hear Ward begin again. “Do you really think it's a good idea to drink today?”

“I’m 23, what's wrong with one drink?”

You pour Rafe’s drink despite Ward's words to his son and drop in two ice cubes, not forgetting to plaster your face with a smile before you turn around. Ward shoots you a disapproving look as you place the whiskey in front of Rafe.

“That will be all.” Ward confirms in a way that tells you he definitely won't be tipping your service.

“Thanks.” Sarah says before following her father into the crowd.

Only an hour in and Midsummer was in full swing, every kook in attendance eager to mingle and flaunt their wealth but none of them had the wealth the Cameron’s did. Everyone on Kildare knew them, not always for the best reasons but everyone knew them, especially Rafe. He was everything your parents raised you not to be but you couldn't blame him when he had a father like he did.

This was your third year working midsummer and your first time working at the bar, now that you were old enough. The conditions behind the bar were a lot better than when you served hors d'oeuvres to the rowdy teens dragged along by their parents. Behind the bar you didn't have to wear a shirt and tie and the tips definitely made you reconsider your choice to not come back next year.

“Hey sweetheart, lookin’ nice!” You hear a voice call from over your shoulder, deciding to ignore it as now that your shift was over you didn’t have any obligations to anyone here anymore so you kept walking to your car.

When a car pulled up beside you cruising as you avoided the gaze of the driver hanging halfway out the window until he called for you again this time with a whistle, you stopped abruptly to face them.

“I really liked your service back there.” When you continued to  walk beside the car not feeling a need to respond to that comment. “Don't say you don't remember me. I'm hurt.” Of course you remembered him, Topper Thornton, a mythic snob who seemed to be in a good enough mood to not insult you right now.

When you got a good look at the car you noticed Rafe in the passenger seat looking bored as ever, followed by Kelce in the back with a couple of other guys who you couldn't name but they were definitely also kooks.

Topper doesnt seem deterred by your lack of response. “How about you hop in and we take you to a real party?” 

“I would take you up on that offer but I'd literally rather be doing anything else with anyone else.” You reply as you reach your car quickly unlocking it and hopping in.

The drive back to the Cut seemed longer today probably because of the irritation from having to deal with so many kooks and all the unfilled potholes you had to endure once you crossed over into low income territory. When you got home you weren't surprised to see that no one else was there. There was a mess left in the living room that you knew wasn’t going anywhere if you didn’t do something about it but you resisted the urge to clean up after your brothers.

Instead you headed straight for the bathroom wanting to rid yourself of the tight little black dress you thought was a good choice for your first time behind the bar and despite all the tips it earned you, you were more than grateful to be out of it. If it weren't for the hot water turning cold you probably would have stayed in the shower for much longer but the moment the icy liquid hit your body you squealed and hopped out into the small bathroom switching off the water once you were wrapped in your towel safely.

Without the sound of running water you could hushed voices and movement coming from the otherside of the door assuming it was one of your brothers you walk into the living room wrapped up in a towel ready to chew out whoever was home for leaving the place in such a state but when you're met with a set of baby blue eyes belonging to a certain blonde you scream and clasp a hand to your chest protectively.

“Jj! What the hell?!” Just as you finish up your sentence you hear wrustling of plastic coming from behind him and see the other pogue boys behind him, John B waving from behind the fridge door and Pope sitting on the couch as if there isn't a pile of laundry nearly his size stacked next to him. “Guys have you ever heard of knocking?

“Hey.” Pope waves at you and you smile back at him still waiting on a reply.

“We did knock duh.. You just didn't answer.” Jj says as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch and laundry pile.

“We saw your car outside so we just came in, sorry.” John B says in between mouth fulls of cocktail sausages

“Okay so why are you here?” You ask, running out of patience with the boys.

“Kiara sent us to come get you. She said you looked miserable behind the bar earlier and thought maybe a party would cheer you up.” Pope says apparently the only one in the room who wants to be useful. “Oh and she will not take no for an answer.”

“And y’all really think a kook party will help?” You ask rhetorically.

“Sorry, we are just as powerless as you here.” John B raises his hands in defence.

“Now go get dressed before we drag you out in that towel.” Jj threatens.

You roll your eyes and walk away. The first thing you do when you reach your room is put on body lotion wanting to feel good at least knowing you were about to proceed to stress out over what to wear, Jj insisted on Knocking on the door every five minutes to hurry you despite your offers to stay home.

When you finally come out of your room Jj is pacing impatiently while John B rambles about some girl he’s nervous to see tonight and Pope seems too relaxed for someone who hates kooks as much as you.

“Why did it take you so long to put on a tank top and a skirt?” Jj asks, sounding exasperated.

“You wouldn’t understand but beauty takes time.” You state simply with a smile.

“You know Kie will kill us if we're late?” Pope asks as if it is some big revelation.

“Exactly, let's go.” John B says and before anyone else can respond he’s rushing to the door as he unwrapped a mini muffin and stuffed it in his mouth. As you lock the door behind him and the others you wonder where he found all that food since you didn’t buy groceries yet this week.

“John B what's up with you? I haven’t seen you this nervous since Jj stole that money from his dad for pizza when we were twelve.” You ask genuinely concerned that he was gonna have a nervous breakdown before you even got to Figure eight.

“He's fallen in love with the Kook Princess.” Pope says nonchalantly.

You crane your head to look over your shoulder at John B, his expression confirming Pope’s statement. “As in.. Sarah Cameron?” You laugh as you jiggle the door handle to confirm it's locked.

“Yep.” Jj confirms popping the P at the end of the word.

“You know Kiara hates her..” You say as you hop into the twinkie behind Jj and Pope.

“Y/N I think it's true love.”

“Hey, it could be worse. She could be a psycho like Rafe.” Pope firmly pats John B’s back.

“Oh god.. If Kiara doesn't get to me first, Rafe is gonna kill me!” John B’s head drops onto the steering wheel dramatically and he starts mumbling about his doomed romance.

“If you're gonna have a fit let someone else drive.” You say as you punch the back of his seat.

“No, I'm okay.. I'm okay.” He sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

When you arrived at Tannyhill John B made sure to park on the street outside so as to not attract attention from any kooks, that's where Kiara met you waiting by the gate.

“Hey guys, you're late.” Kie says as you all hop out of the twinkie.

Everyone grumbles an apology which makes Kie roll her eyes.

“Sorry, John B was having a fit.” you say in mocking.

The party was in full swing, kooks and their fancy cars lined the obnoxiously large driveway and music blasted from inside the house.

“About what?” Kie asks.

“Don't blame me, Y/N took an hour to get ready.” John B defends.

As the group reached the front of the house you passed Rafe’s black truck a car anyone in the outer banks would be able to identify if it passed them and as the

“Y’all literally broke in while I was in the shower. Plus I just got home from the country club twenty minutes before you guys.” You argue back as your group squeezed past a group loitering in the foyer.

Kiara chuckles and stops in front of the kitchen island that held all of the drinks– a lot of drinks. “Honestly I don't even care anymore, let's drink!”

“That's what I'm talking about!” Jj yells as he grabs a large jug to mix up some toxic concoction. You grimace as you watch Jj empty out half a liter of Vodka into the mixture, mixing it swiftly with a spoon he found on the counter then pouring it into five separate solo cups.

“Jj are you sure this is safe to drink?” You ask as you take an attentive sip. “This could kill someone! Where's the cola?”

While the others were brave enough to choke down Jj’s attempt at a cocktail, you walk around the island to grab the bottle on the other side from there your eyes scan across the room noting the faces of the various Kooks you served that day and right in the middle of them all was Rafe Cameron you knew he would be here but you just thought you wouldn't spot him so soon.

“Don't water it down too much!” He whined as he watched you dilute the mixture with cola. Your eyes trail over to the adjoining lounge flicker between your drink and Rafe as he leaned down to the coffee table in front of him to snort a line of something. Jj’s eyes follow yours across the room. “What are you.. Oh.”

Once you finished pouring the cola it wasnt who you thought in your line of sight. No, it was Sarah Cameron in all her glory, really living up to the princess title. Perfect hair, perfect smile and all over perfect no wonder John B was in love.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara says pointing at Sarah and every one follows the point of her finger to the blonde girl.

“Oh no.” John B mumbles to himself and rubs his hands over his eyes in frustration.

“Dude, it's her house.” Pope sounded almost confused.

“Whatever, why is she coming over here?” She huffs.

“Hey, guys.” Sarah waves flashing her pearly white teeth at the group which Kie rolls her eyes at. Everyone watches apprehensive as she walks toward John B putting a hand on his arm before turning back to the group. “Glad you could all make it. You’re Y/N right? We met earlier.”

“Yeah, I make the worst tom collins in Kildare.” You wave from across the kitchen island and she laughs.

“Why is she talking to us?” Kiara asks with a serious crease in her brow. “Seriously, John B?”

 “Kie we have bigger problems. Rafe cameron at twelve o’clock.” Pope says, tilting his head forward. The whole group including Sarah perk up looking over at rafe seeing that he's walking over with Topper and Kelce on his tail.

“I'm out.” Pope says quickly leading the group out of the packed room. By the time you were able to get back around to the other side of the kitchen island Rafe, Topper and Kelce were cutting you off from the group with large strides following your friends out through the back door but never once even sparing you a glance, focused completely on their rivals.

You sigh at the realisation that you managed to get out of yet another scuffle with Rafe Cameron, remembering the last time you witnessed his wrath was last summer when Jj worked Midsummer with you as a server rafe was so brutal you feared Jj would have ended up in the hospital it wasn't until Ward stumbled in that Rafe even considered stopping. It's safe to say that Jj will never work at the country club again.

You waited it out in the kitchen sipping on your drink until Kiara texted you to say that they had lost Rafe and his goons and they were coming back to find you. Turns out Sarah was actually a big help in harbouring your fugitive friend, apparently she managed to hide everyone in the pool shed before Rafe got to them.

“He didn't say or do anything to you did he?” Sarah asks, eyeing you as if looking for any sign of injury or being shaken up.

“Didn’t even look at me.” You spread your arms out beside you as if to show her you’re completely fine.

“Who knew, not all Camerons are Bad?” Jj says, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I reluctantly have to say he might actually be– just a little bit– right about that.” Kiara adds looking at Sarah with a half contained smile.

“Good to know this is my redemption arc.” Sarah laughs Obviously over whatever beef she and Kiara had.

“I’m glad everyone is getting along now.” John B sighs as if the group dynamic being saved was a bigger feat than surviving Rafe.

The night went pretty smoothly until you split off from the group again to find a bathroom, after three more of Jj’s cocktails you finally felt the need to go and in your inebriated state you had no patience but it seemed every bathroom in the house was occupied or covered in vomit even with the excessive amount of them, they didn’t seem to be getting any less occupied as you stumbled from door to door.

Eventually you made your way upstairs only to be met with the same issue. Each door you attempted to open was either a bedroom, closet or occupied. After some careful consideration you decided to go into one of the empty bedrooms knowing that at least one of them had to have an en suite.

When you entered the room was empty, so you headed for the door on the right side of the room hoping it was a bathroom so you wouldn’t have to go outside in a bush. To your relief it was and you wasted no time locking the door behind you.

As you wash your hands in the sink you hear movement on the other side of the door and still your movements trying not to make too much noise. You wait a few minutes for the  noise to die down then make your way to the door slowly unlocking it and sadly that silence didn’t mean the room was empty no. The was Rafe laying on his bed legs dangling off the side. This must have been his bedroom. God what were you supposed to do now? Before you could close the door again and retreat back inside, Rafe sat up from his bed looking over at you.

Your stomach did that thing it always seemed to do when he looked at you, this time just a little more violently. If your friends knew about it they would either make fun of you for it or hate you but that exactly why they will never know.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. I just needed to use the bathroom.” You say as you step off of the tiled floor turning off the light as you move into his dimly lit bedroom. He just continues to look at you with a raised brow and stands towering over you. As you stare back you notice a small cut on his brow and a pink welt forming on the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask as your hand reaches up to touch his face but his hand catches yours before you can make contact. “Sorry.” You step back unsure of when you even got close enough to touch him.

“I'm fine.” He says in a clipped tone.

“You’re bleeding..” As the words come out your eyes drop to his hand hanging by his side with a small first aid kit clutched in his fist. “Can I help you?”

You should have been trying to get out of there as fast as possible but your drunken reckless mind forgot all about Rafe’s messy history the moment he looked at you.

Your hand reaches for the kit and he begins to pull away but when your fingers make contact with his he stills allowing your delicate hands to take it from him without opposition. If anyone else were pushing him back to sit on his bed right now he might think they wanted him to fuck them but you just seem too pure to think like that.

He watched your small fingers tear open an alcohol wipe and when he glanced up, you were staring at him with those kind doe eyes that he only now noticed so he nervously averted his gaze before his mind could take note of how glazed over or round they were.

When the wipe made contact with his skin he hissed slightly and you whispered out an apology, your voice so gentle he relaxed despite the sting. He didn't even know what he was doing until his hand clasped the back of your thigh almost fully enveloping it and squeezing slightly as you pressed a small band aid to his brow and you didn’t question it thinking that he needed something to distract him.

There is a long silence and Rafe drops his hold on you. “You should put some ice on that.” You gesture to the side of his face.

Rafe just looked at you, something between suspicion and curiosity in his eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?” The thought flashes through his mind that you might be his guardian angel because here you are dressed in all white looking more innocent than anyone at this party.

“I-”

“Nah, I would know if I’d seen you before.” He continues, not too bothered whether you had an answer to his previous question or not. It was funny to you that now that there were no clear signs as to what class you fell into he was willing to give you more than a few words.

You’d met Rafe many times before not that he ever fully acknowledged your presence which was a good thing considering, the closest you’d gotten to him in years other than serving him food and drinks was when he was tormenting your friends.

“So angel, who invited you to my party?” His gaze lingered a little too long on your body as he spoke to you only looking up when you didn't answer.

You were very careful with your next words knowing that if you said you came with your Pogue friends that wouldn’t end well and he’d be kicking you out on the street and marching off to fight them. “Kiara.. Carrera-.”

“Yeah I know her.. She brought those low life pogue friends of hers didn’t she?” His tone switched slightly deepening when he asked about the boys that were like brothers to you.

His words echoed in your head reminding you exactly why you should cut this conversation short with him– because he hated low life Pogues such as yourself.

“I wouldn’t know, umm.. I should get back to-” Once again you were cut off by Rafe.

“You’re not gonna leave me here alone are ya, Angel? I’m hurt.” He said in a tone that was so sickeningly sweet and if he hadn’t gently grasped your hand to stop your retreat you would have thought his words were aimed at someone else. “C’mon we can have our own fun up here.”

The hand that held yours moved to your side right above your hip, his touch was light and tickled as his fingers landed against your body tapping softly like they were pressing down on piano keys. He guided you to sit down with him on the bed in the center of the room.

“What's your name?” he asked, staring deeply into your eyes, almost actually looking interested.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats. “That's a pretty name, I'm Rafe.”

“I know.” You confirm as if you didn’t know whose party you were at or whose house you were in.

He nods in satisfaction. “So Y/N, do you like my party?”

“Parties aren’t really my thing..”

“That's why I haven't seen you before.” Rafe surmised wrongly. “Don’t worry I’ll show you a good time.” he adds and all of a sudden he's closer to you than you remember and his hand is on your upper thigh thumb caressing the exposed skin there.

You forced a smile and nodded at him, if it weren't for the fact that your brain was all hazy from the cocktails Jj had mixed up maybe you would have had the sense enough to say no to him when he asked you to stay or when he pulled you into his lap or even when he kissed you. The kiss turned into heavy breathing and grinding down on his lap but your body just drew you closer to him each time you thought about moving away from his touch.

You pulled back trying to calm yourself and come back to your senses but Rafe’s lips just latched on to your jaw, working their way down your throat. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer with the other hand on your hip grinding you down against his hard on.

“Take this off.” He breathes between kisses as he tugs on the hem of your shirt and you’re momentarily taken aback by the sharpness of his command.

You lift your arms enough for him to lift your tank over your head, leaving you in a bralette that was too skimpy to really cover anything underneath. He throws your shirt aside then lifts you in his arms and turns to place you on the bed for him to climb on top of you between your legs.

He gripped the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper and messier, his tongue swiping across yours. There’s the faint drone of the party going on outside and people passing  by but you couldn’t care less as he pulled his hips away from yours kneeling between your thighs to pull his shirt off over his head.

If he couldn’t feel your wetness before he could definitely see it from his position with your skirt bunched around your waist exposing your cotton covered core. He gives you a warning look, when your hands begin tugging on the hem of your skirt trying to cover the evidence of your arousal.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He sounded rougher like he was straining himself.

For a moment, his gaze softens as he studies you, a flicker of admiration passing through his eyes. When his eyes trail down to your soaked panties again they darkened and filled with lust.

“Fuck..” Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You bit your lip softly not trusting your voice so you shook your head in reply. 

He kissed the corner of your lips softly then pulled back shaking his head. “I need you to say it. Out loud.”

“Please don’t stop.” You whined and that’s all the confirmation he needed to reach down to your skirt and panties pulling them down and completely off. Once the damp fabric was out of the way he began rubbing his fingers between your wet folds.

You cursed yourself for giving in, for getting so caught up in the moment but his touch was so intoxicating all you could do was whine and tug at the sheets around you as his fingers sank into your core and began pumping in and out of you.

The sound of your wetness mixed with your soft moans had Rafe groaning deep in his throat. 

Your back arched towards him as his thumb landed on your sensitive bud. He breathed out, his eyes twinkling as he took in your appearance completely overwhelmed by his touch.

He pumped in fingers and slowly scissored them inside of you stretching your walls. He quickened the pace of his thumb against your clit and you bite down on your lip as you approach your high.

He can tell you’re close and his eyes burn intensely as he watches your face contorted in pleasure. “Let go for me Angel.”

Even after you came around his fingers he didn't stop his hands movement until he saw tears begin to form in your eyes.

“You did so good for me, Angel.” He says as he pulls back and pulls his fingers out of your core bringing them up to his lips tasting your juices on his fingers. Your head rolls to the side, lip caught between the whiteness of your teeth as you tremble beneath him.

He wanted to go down on you so bad but at this point his dick was straining against his jeans painfully. 

Rafe’s hand cups your cheek tilting your face back to look at him slowly, almost hesitantly then he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. “You’re doing so well, f’me.” He mumbled against your lips and closed the distance between you, the large hand on your face moving to tangle into your hair as your lips meet again.

What you were doing was so wrong knowing the history Rafe had with your friends, this was essentially a betrayal but at this point there was no going back. You'd already taken it too far and now he was between your legs pulling the zipper of his jeans down and tugging them off with his boxers and you had no qualms as he rested himself between your thighs again and began lining his hard cock up with your entrance.

His hands drop to your sides, reaching up to the straps of your bralette tugging them down to expose your breast. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” He attempts to unclasp the bralette from the back only to get impatient and pull on both sides until something gives and it comes undone and he throws it somewhere in the room along with the rest of your clothes.

You watched the corner of his mouth curve upwards as he gazed down at you. “You ready, Angel?”

“Yes, I want you inside me.. Please.” Rafe liked that you were so obedient and you wanted him as much as he did you right now.

“Stay still for me okay.” Rafe commanded, as he pushed his hips forward finally beginning to push past your warm folds, your wetness enveloping his length slowly. You felt a painful stretch as he pushed through your tightness.

Rafe's eyes lulled back as your warmth enveloped him. He swore he felt it suctioning him in and he knew he would’t be able to pull away if he wanted. It seemed like forever until Rafe bottomed out when he finally did your eyes were brimming with tears.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He whispered with a shaky voice.

You could only whine in response to his praise too caught up in the overwhelming pain and pleasure to form words coherently.

“Say my name.” Rafe commands as he thrusts just once to emphasize his words. “Say it!” he grunts as he continues not able to hold back his thrusts for longer.

“Rafe.. Rafe, Rafe.” You chant his name in time with his thrusts. 

He leans down on his forearms, caging you in to kiss down the column of your neck and gently nip at your collar bone moving further down between your breast before he wrapped his lips around your left nipple sucking it harshly into his mouth and releasing it from his lips with a pop before going back down to lick and suck on it more.

The sound of your wetness filled the room and Rafes breath was heavy as he latched onto your breast muffling his groans as a knot was forming deep in your gut making your core squeezed around his length. You were so overwhelmed by all the sensations and sounds.

“Fuck, I’m close angel.” He groaned against your chest, speeding up his thrusts sitting up on his knees and moving his hands to your hips to hold you down as he adjusts his angle making you take him deeper. “Let go, I can feel you holding back.. Just let go.”

And you did, your body convulsed beneath him still whimpering his name as you came undone around him, he wasn't far behind you and came only a moment after later spilling into you while still thrusting wanting to extend your shared pleasure.

As you came down from your high your gaze was focused on the ceiling and your mind went hazy as you focused back on the sounds and vibrations in the house around you. Only then did you remember you were at a party where you had maybe too much to drink and your friends were probably looking for you downstairs somewhere, completely unaware that you had public enemy No.1 between your legs right now. 

But before you could finish that thought Rafe hisses as he pulls out of you instantly missing your warmth when he does and all you could think about was how empty you felt now that he wasn't inside of you. You open your eyes as he falls to your side resting his arm across your abdomen gently hugging you against his body. 

You needed to leave it was the right next move but you felt yourself drifting in and out of unconsciousness maybe because of the weight and warmth of Rafe’s touch, the alcohol in your system or the long day of working at the country club but either way your need to leave was out weighed by your want to stay.

When you woke in the morning Rafe’s presence was no longer there, instead you were met with an empty bed still slightly warm on the left side. You took that as a sign that you should leave assuming Rafe left to avoid an awkward goodbye and would want you gone before he came back.

You stumbled slightly as you stood trying to locate each piece of clothing you had arrived in coming up short when it came to your phone, knowing you couldn't leave in your current state. When you finally located your phone too much time had passed and you feared Rafe would find you still in his space. The door to the bedroom opens up revealing Rafe standing shirtless with a glass of water.

He walks over leaving only a small distance between the two of you. “Good to see you’re awake.”

Try to step around him towards the door. Rafe puts the glass down on his desk quickly grabbing your wrist to pull you in, his hands cupping the sides of your face, pulling you towards him for a slow deep kiss.

You try not to show the shock that envelops you as he pulls back tugging your lip as he does. His eyes are missing their usual darkness and intensity, his face looks relaxed and almost happy, this wasn't the Rafe Cameron you learnt to avoid. Your eyes flicker across his face as if you’re trying to make sure that this is the real Rafe Cameron standing in front of you.

“You could stay.” He suggests and despite how tempting that offer felt, now you knew that your friends would be looking for you and maybe they had been already and gave up either way you needed to get home before anyone saw you here.

“I can’t.”

Rafe caught your hand just as your other one found the door knob to his bedroom. He crowded you against the door and kissed the side of your neck. “You’re gonna leave before I get your number?” His eyes gleamed as he turned you to face him and pulled your body against his. “C’mon, don’t just use me and abuse me.” He jests, feigning offence. “Phone?” He commands with his hand out.

He steps back allowing you to unlock and hand over the device so he can type in his number but not before deleting the two dozen texts you got from the pogues last night. “I Texted myself so if you don’t call I will.” He says, peering down at you through slightly squinted eyes as he hands back your phone that's when he notices your outfit, stepping back to eye your body more closely.

Rafe quickly turns away to grab the grey hoodie that was hanging from his desk chair handing it to you. “I could give you a ride..” He suggests as you take the sweater from him and he smiles a real toothy smile.

“No, I'm good.” You say, smiling up at him through your lashes before pulling the hoodie over your head. “I promise, I’ve got a ride.” You lied.

Rafe nods, looking satisfied before opening the door behind you so you can leave but not before he pecks you on the lips one last time.

Once Rafe’s bedroom door was closed behind you rushed down the stairs trying to rationalise what you had just done and nothing came up. How could you think sleeping with Rafe was a good idea? What would you do if your friends found out? Fuck where were your friends?

When you exit the house you check the most recent text on the P4L group chat assessing the vibe noting that everyone was freaking out over your disappearance. You pause at the gate at the end of the Cameron’s drive when you hear someone calling your name.

You turn back to the house seeing Sarah running towards you. “Y/N! Thank god! We’ve been looking for you all night.” She says trying to catch her breath. 

“We?” You ask.

She nodded, still trying to gain back her breath as she walked beside you. “The others are waiting in the twinkie.” she points across the street through the open gate. “Where did you go?”

Before you could answer her there was yelling from across the street. “She’s alive!” Jj exclaims opening the door to the back of John B’s camper.

“Did you guys sleep in here?” You ask, looking at them in disbelief as you climb into the back.

“Duh. As if we were gonna leave you here.” Pope chuckled.

“Sarah, where did you find her?” John b says looking genuinely surprised that she came back with you.

“I didn’t. She was leaving when I was.”

“What were you doing in there all night Y/N?” Pope asks with a raised brow?

“Yeah and whose hoodie is that? Did you meet a guy?” Kie asks excitedly.

“Better not be a Kook!” Jj adds, which earns him some nods and hums of agreement.

“Can we just go?” you snap.

“Oh my god! You did. Didn’t you?” Kiara says, sounding even more giddy. “Wait, You never talk to guys. Who was he?”

“I think I'm still drunk guys. Can we please go home?” You beg, starting to get anxious that you might actually admit to who you were with last night. Your body ached and your head was still a bit hazy as you had only woken up about half an hour ago.

“Agreed, my bed is calling.” Pope says no longer sounding interested in the conversation.

rafe sliding a ring on readers finger while hes sliding IT in😋

PUT A ROCK ON HER HAND!! ♡ Rafe Cameron

content: lost of virginity, little manipulation, mentions of marriage, degrading, praising, breeding kink, +18 PLEASE MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

a/n: GOOOOD I JUST KNOW THIS MAN IS A KEEPER

Rafe had been fucking obsessed with his girlfriend from the moment she’d stumbled into his life. She’d tease him with her purity, batting those lashes while swearing she’d only spread her legs once a ring was on her finger. But Rafe wasn’t built for patience. He wanted her, needed her, bare and dripping for him, and he’d spent weeks breaking her down, whispering filthy promises in her ear until her “no” turned into a shaky, wet-lipped “maybe.”

Tonight, he’d finally cracked her. She was sprawled on his bed, her dress a crumpled heap on the floor, legs trembling as he pinned her thighs apart. “You’re gonna be such a good little housewife for me, aren’t you?” he growled, his voice rough with lust as he sank into her, slow and deliberate, stretching her tight, untouched cunt inch by inch. She whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body jerking under the raw burn of him claiming her virginity. “Fuck, bunny, you’re so tight—been saving this pussy just for me, huh?”

He didn’t rush it, not when the sight of her unravelling beneath him was this goddamn good. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, lips parted as she gasped and sobbed, her slick heat clenching around his cock like she was made for him. Rafe’s hands gripped her hips, possessive, imagining her barefoot in his kitchen, belly swollen with his kid, her days spent cooking and waiting for him to come home and fuck her senseless. That thought alone had his dick throbbing inside her.

“Gonna make you mine,” he rasped, one hand sliding up to her tits, squeezing hard as he thrust deeper, her little cries spurring him on. Her pussy was soaked now, slick dripping down his balls, and he smirked, knowing she couldn’t fight this anymore. He reached into his pocket, fishing out the 4-carat ring, his ticket to owning her completely. Mid-fuck, with her trembling and whimpering beneath him, he grabbed her shaky hand and forced the diamond onto her finger, the metal scraping her skin as he bottomed out inside her.

“R-Rafe!” she choked out, her voice a broken mess of shock and need, her cunt fluttering around him as she stared at the rock now staking his claim. Tears streaked her flushed cheeks, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, pounding into her slow and dirty, savoring every twitch of her body.

“My wife. My perfect little slut. Gonna keep you home, fat with my babies, pussy ready for me every damn night.” Her sobs turned to moans, her resistance melting into the wet, sloppy rhythm of his cock owning her, and Rafe knew he’d won, her virginity and her future all his to fuck and mold however he damn well pleased.

Bunny (P9)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reade

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: well- here's the next part gang 🤟 Next part is gonna take me 3 day at least pls don't gang up on me and track me down I beg.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, police stations, abuse, bad father daughter relationship, aggression, blood, bruises, malnutrition, sad bunny but soft!Rafe (idk ig?)

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9)

The restaurant is warm, filled with the scent of sizzling meat, it’s small, family-run, where the walls are covered in colourful tapestries and old generational photos. A string of mismatched fairy lights flickers above the booth, casting a golden glow over the chipped wooden tables. It’s comfortable and homey- somewhere that the two girls come all the time given the owners are Sofia's family friends, somewhere Y/N would usually feel at ease.

But not tonight.

She’s sitting across from Sofia in a corner booth, her fingers idly picking at the tortilla chips in front of her, breaking them into tiny pieces but never bringing them to her mouth. Her stomach feels heavy, but not from hunger. The weight in her chest has been there for two days now, pressing down on her every time she tries to push her reality out of her mind. Sofia on the other hand, is talking animatedly, her dark eyes bright with excitement;

“—and then he tells me he’s never been to the Cut before- I mean I know he's new but can you believe that? Like, he’s lived on this island for three months, and he’s never even crossed the bridge for more than a minute?” She shakes her head playfully before continuing,

“I mean, it’s probably a red flag, right? Or maybe it’s, like- cute? No you know what, he needs me to show him around right? I'm not delusional but I really feel that this time its dif-”

Y/N hums absently, nodding as she moves the chips around her plate, the low hum of their conversation in the restaurant blends with the soft guitar playing through the old speakers near the register. Sofia keeps talking, something about how 'this new guy actually texts back', how he asked her about her day, how it’s refreshing. Y/N wants to listen, she really does. She wants to be present, to ask the right questions and tease Sofia about her obvious crush. But all she can think about is the fact that there’s a baby inside her.

A baby she didn’t ask for.

A baby whose father is a faceless, nameless shadow.

Her fingers tighten slightly around a broken chip, her jaw clenching and this time, Sofia notices. She pauses mid-sentence, her gaze flicking to Y/N’s untouched food, the way she hasn’t really reacted to anything she’s said.

“What’s up with you?” Sofia asks, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, “and don’t tell me you’re just tired, because I know when you’re lying to me.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. She presses her lips together, willing herself to keep it together, but under Sofia’s knowing stare, her walls start to crack. She exhales sharply, finally looking up from the mess of now broken crumbs.

“I don’t even know Sof,”

She mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper. Sofia’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, resting a hand on Y/N’s,

“Hey, come on.- you’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Y/N swallows hard. She wants to tell her. But saying it out loud makes it real, and she’s not sure she’s fully ready for that. Instead, she just stares down at the table, trying to figure out how to even begin. She shifts slightly in her seat, exhaling through her nose. She knows Sofia won’t drop it- she never does when she knows something’s off. So she pushes out a breath and shrugs, giving Sofia a tired half-smile.

“It’s just... JJ and I got into it a few days ago. And I guess it’s just- taking a toll on me more than I thought it would.”

It’s not a lie.

Not really

“You and JJ always fight. Like, all the time. It never lasts more than a day.”

Sofia’s brows furrow as she looks to the girl comfortingly. Y/N presses her lips together again, tracing the rim of her water glass with her finger, “Yeah, well… this time, he’s not talking to me. He’s just been… I don’t know. Distant? He only texts me if he needs something or to tell me he’s crashing at John B’s.”

She shrugs again, trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal, even though it is. Because JJ has never done this before. Even when they fought, they never really ignored each other. And now, when she needs him more than ever, he’s pulling away. Sofia watches her carefully, taking in the way Y/N won’t quite meet her eyes, how she keeps fidgeting with her glass.

“Okay, yeah... that sucks,” she admits. “But, this is JJ we’re talking about? He’s your brother. There’s no way he stays mad at you forever- I mean, I literally watched you two try to strangle each other over an out of date Pop-Tart, and five minutes later, you were splitting it in half.” Y/N lets out a small, hollow chuckle at the memory, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Sofia sighs,

“Look, I get it. It sucks when things feel off between you two. But whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Y/N nods, but she doesn’t say anything because although her relationship with JJ is an issue at the moment- it isn’t the problem.

But he’s a safe excuse.

So she lets Sofia keep talking, lets the conversation shift back to her and the guy she’s seeing. But even as she nods and hums at the right moments, she can’t shake the feeling that things are starting to slip out her grasp.

The ride home is quiet, the low hum of Sofia’s car filling the space between them. Y/N watches the streets pass by, the neon lights of convenience stores and run-down gas stations casting eye-catching glows. As they pull up in front of her house, she exhales and turns to her best friend, guilt tugging at her,

"Sorry I was pretty shitty company today."

Sofia scoffs softly waving her hand in dismissal before shifting in her seat to face her, "No, you weren’t. Don’t be silly." She leans over, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to the side of Y/N’s face. Y/N musters a small smile, trying to believe her.

"I love you."

"I love you too, girlfriend. See you tomorrow?"

Sofia tilts her head, giving her a gentle smile in return. Y/N nods, lifting a hand to send her a playful air kiss before stepping out of the car. She watches Sofia drive away, then turns towards the house, her eyes catching on the familiar sight of JJ’s bike parked in the driveway. Stepping inside, she finds him in the living room, shoving clothes into a bag. He doesn’t look up right away, just keeps moving, shoulders tense. Y/N hesitates, watching him.

She wants to tell him everything.

She wants to fall apart right here and let him put her back together, just to be held by someone who would understand. Yet the way he’s been acting- the distance, the short replies- makes it feel impossible. He finally glances at her, expression unreadable.

"You good... ?"

It nearly breaks her and she forces herself to nod quickly, swallowing down the lump in her throat answering,

"Yeah. You?"

"Been fine."

JJ shrugs, his voice flat as he responds- and that’s it. They both know there’s something wrong, but neither of them know how to fix it. Y/N’s gaze flickers to the half-packed bag beside him. Her throat feels thick as she clears it before she asks,

"Where are you going?"

"John B’s for a few days."

JJ doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he answers. She nods, pretending it doesn’t sting, pretending she doesn’t feel him slipping further away instead putting on a small smile and mumbling out an,

"Oh... okay."

For a second, he hesitates at the sound of her voice.

His fingers grip the zipper of his bag a little tighter, like maybe he wants to say something more, but then he just exhales sharply, slings the strap over his shoulder and mutters,

"I’ll see you later."

And he’s gone.

The door shuts behind him, and all that’s left is silence. Y/N stands there, staring at the empty space where he stood, the weight of his absence pressing down on her. Her mind wanders but she startles at the sudden, shrill ring of the landline. Her brows furrow as she looks over at it. Nobody ever calls the house phone, she's even been meaning to cancel the damn thing for months now, but it always slipped her mind. A weird feeling creeps up her spine as she crosses the room and picks up the receiver.

"Hello?"  

There’s a brief pause, then a robotic voice filters through the line:  

"This is a collect call from—" a short beep sounds before a gruff, familiar voice cuts in,

"Luke Christopher Maybank." 

"—an inmate at Kildare County Police Station. Do you accept the call?"

Y/N's stomach drops and she exhales sharply, pressing her forehead against the wall as she closes her eyes. For a second, she considers hanging up. Just letting it ring out and pretending she never picked up, but instead, she reluctantly whispers,

"Yes"  

A click can be heard and then his voice, rough and slightly muffled rings out from the other end, "Y/N?"  

She swallows, "Dad?"  

"You gotta pick me up," he grumbles. "These fuckin' cops got me locked up for nothin’. Just some bullshit drunk and disorderly charge—it's all a misunderstanding, alright? Just—just get down here."  

Y/N presses her palm to her face, dragging it down as she leans heavier against the wall. She doesn’t say anything right away. What is there to say?  Why was she picking up her own father from the police station- last time she checked in every other normal families home it was the parents picking up the teenagers. Luke huffs out a frustrated breath when she doesn’t answer fast enough.

"C’mon, girl, I know you’re there. Don’t be difficult, just come get me. And—" he pauses,

"bring some money with you." 

Y/N stills and her heart sinks. Money? All she has left is that two hundred and fifty dollars, well now two hundred since she had to tank her car up. The money she was saving for her... problem. Her fingers curl tightly around the phone cord as she stares at the floor, cursing him in her mind, rage bubbling up in her chest. Luke snaps, his voice sharper this time,

"Can you hear me or wha-"

"-yes I can fucking hear you, alright?"

Y/N bites out before she can stop herself. A little too harsh. There’s a beat of silence between them before he hums, a low, warning sound, but he doesn’t say anything else. She feels a little nervous, knowing she shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. She never should have spoke to him like that. The telephone beeps, signaling the time running out. She exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I'm coming."  

Luke sniffs, shifting on the other end, "You better be kid."  

The line clicks dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N steps into the Kildare County Police Station, her shoes clicking sharply on the tile as she walks toward the counter. The air smells stale, the buzz of the overhead lights almost as grating as the noise in her mind. The officer behind the desk looks up at her and she clears her throat, her voice steady but flat,

"I'm here for Luke Maybank"

The officer nods, picking up the phone to make a call. But before she has time to stand there, Shoupe steps out from behind the door. He notices her immediately, the familiar face giving her a slight pause. He says offering her a nod,

"Y/N"

"Shoupe."

She looks up, a tight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. He asks, his hands resting on the counter leaning in slightly.

"How’ve you been?"

"Good."

She keeps her answer short and stiff. He raises an eyebrow, as if he expected more before continuing,

"Well, I've been good too thanks for asking."

Y/N hums noncommittally and glances at the floor. Shoupe has always been kind to her, but at the end of the day he's still part of the police... and she can't really trust him, and he knows that. Shoupe exhales and motions to the officer at the desk.

"I’ll take care of this one."

He takes the place of the previous officer, fingers tapping rhythmically to type into the computer. Y/N glances around the waiting room which is practically empty, except for a middle aged man fast asleep in the far corner chair. Shoupe pulls out a piece of paper from the printer and places it on the counter infront of her.

"Your dad’s bail is $500."

Y/N’s eyes flick down to the piece of paper, mouth going dry at the sound of the number. Her eyes flicker across the document and land on the digits printed out in bold. Her hand slips into the pocket of her hoodie and takes out the $200 she’s been clinging to, counting it out slowly before offering it to him by placing it on the counter.

"That’s all I’ve got."

"Y/N..."

"Shoupe," she cuts him off, "That’s literally all I have left."

She gives him a look as if it should be obvious that she's clearly done with all of this. Shoupe runs a hand over his forehead, his eyes softening as he looks down at the cash on the counter. He sighs heavily.

He knows what goes on in that house.

Knows the toll it’s taken on her and JJ, but legally, he can’t do anything unless they report something. He winces, clearly not liking the way she’s speaking to him, but he doesn't push it.

"Look Y/N, I’ve told you before, if you and JJ ever need help... if you’re ready to talk about your dad, about what’s going on-"

"-I have nothing to say -he’s my dad."

She interrupts him again, eyes narrowing, voice steely but her heart is thumping heavily in her chest. There’s a long pause as he studies her, but she doesn’t flinch. Her expression is unreadable. Finally he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I can’t keep doing this, Y/N."

He says it softly, almost apologetically. He looks at the money again, then back up at her. He hesitates for a long moment before shaking his head, clearly wrestling with his own conscience. But then, after another long pause, he reaches out and takes the $200 from where it lay,

"This is the last time I it slide."

Y/N doesn’t respond, just stares at him for a beat. She knows she should probably feel something- relief maybe, but instead she just feels tired.

"Thanks"

She mutters, and she doesn’t bother to offer any more words.

Shoupe turns to leave, and when he returns Luke steps into the reception, his presence filling the space with that familiar weight she’s always hated. His eyes land on her immediately, and he plasters on a grin.

“Hey, kiddo”

He greets, the warmth in his voice as forced as the fatherly act he’s putting on. Before she can react, he pulls her into a hug. It’s stiff, his arms heavy around her, and Y/N doesn’t exactly return it. She just stands there, barely breathing, eyes momentarily flicking toward the reception desk where she knows Shoupe is watching. Luke’s grip tightens briefly before he steps back, clapping a hand on her shoulder like nothing’s wrong.

“C’mon, let’s go home huh?”

Without waiting for a response, he turns and strides toward the exit, acting like this is all just some minor inconvenience. Y/N doesn’t move right away. Her gaze moving back to the front desk, landing on Shoupe who’s watching her with that same expression, like he’s waiting for her to say something- to do something.

But she swallows down the lump in her throat and turns away, walking after Luke without another glance back.

Outside, he's is already waiting by the passenger side of her car, leaning against the door, like she didn’t just use the last of her money to get him out of a cell. Y/N doesn’t say a word as she steps toward the driver’s side. The moment she clicks the unlock button, Luke pulls the door open and gets in without hesitation, shutting it behind him.

She lingers outside for a second, inhaling sharply. Her fingers twitch at her side before she finally lifts a shaky hand, curling it around the handle. She pulls the door open and slides in, shutting it behind her with a quiet thud. The quiet settles thick between them and the air in the car feels suffocating. Luke is staring straight ahead, unmoving, unreadable. Y/N doesn’t look at him. She can’t. The tension makes her skin crawl, makes her hands itch to grip the steering wheel just to have something to hol-

CRACK

A sharp, blinding pain explodes across her face.

Her head snaps to the side, and for a moment the world blurs as blood splatters across the driver’s side window, red prominent against the glass. She cries out, the sound involuntary, ripped from her throat as agony spreads through her skull. Before she can process, before she can even breathe, a rough hand seizes her by the t-shirt, yanking her against the door.

“Don’t ever fuckin' speak to me like that again.”

His voice is a low growl, thick with rage, spit flying as he sneers at her and his fingers dig into the fabric, twisting and constricting. Y/N’s hands fly up, wrapping around his wrists, but she’s helpless—he’s too strong, too relentless. The pressure makes it hard to breathe, hard to think beyond the burning pain radiating from her nose.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Luke slams her against the door again, harder this time. The whole car shakes.

“Is that fuckin' clear?!”

A sob breaks from her, raw and shaky, “-yes.”

His grip tightens, “What was that?”

“Yes sir.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, voice barely above a whisper, trembling. He stares at her for a moment longer, the fury in his eyes making her stomach churn. Then, with a sharp shove, he releases her, sending her back against the seat. Luke exhales harshly, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the moment, then mutters,

“Drive”

Y/N’s whole body is trembling, her breaths uneven. Slowly, her shaking hand lifts, fingertips grazing the sticky warmth dripping from her nose. She pulls back, eyes locking on the crimson staining her fingers.

“Now.” His tone is sharper this time, a warning.

“If you ain’t gonna drive right now Y/N, I swear to God you’ll be limpin' home.”

She doesn’t hesitate after that.

With jerky, frantic movements, she starts the car, the engine roaring to life. Her head is pounding, the sharp sting of her broken nose making her vision blur, but she forces herself to focus. She pulls out of the lot and onto the road, the streetlights casting long shadows over her shaking hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beach parking lot is empty, save for her car, parked near the dunes. It’s late- but there’s no way in hell she’s going home, not tonight.

Not all alone with him there.  

The air is thick with salt, the distant crash of waves the only sound cutting through the quiet. Her car door is open, letting in the cool night breeze, and the windows are rolled down. It helps her breathe, helps her not feel so confined.  

She flips down the visor mirror, tilting her face slightly to the side. The faint glow from the overhead light highlights the swelling creeping along the bridge of her nose, the discoloration already setting in- a deep, ugly bruise spreading beneath her skin.  

She sighs.  

In the cup holder, a fast-food cup sits, condensation dripping down the sides. It was full of ice earlier, but now it’s just cold water. Her passenger seat holds a damp, crumpled t-shirt, stained slightly red from when she pressed it to her face after the bleeding slowed.   Her fingers ghost over her nose, wincing when even the lightest touch sends a sharp sting through her skull. She drops her hand, pressing her head back against the seat with a quiet exhale.  

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, staring at nothing, just listening to the waves. The night stretches on, then the low rumble of an approaching engine made her fingers twitch against the steering wheel. She flicked the mirror shut, cutting off the reflection of her slightly swollen nose, and turned her head just as the black Range Rover slowed to a stop a few feet away. The headlights dimmed, the driver’s door opened, and out stepped Rafe.

Two whole days.

Forty-eight hours since she’d told him and in all that time, not a single word, she didn't see him once.

Now he was here.

He walked toward her car, his movements purposeful but not rushed. The glow of the parking lot lights bounced off his sharp features, making his expression unreadable. When he stopped at her open door, he glanced down at her in the darkness, his mouth parting slightly before he finally spoke.

“Hi”

Y/N swallowed, feeling like she was made of glass, like she had to keep herself still or she’d crack.

“Hey.”

Her eyes flickered downward. He was holding something—an envelope, brown and slightly crumpled at the edges his voice calls out,

"I had a feeling I'd find you here"

Her brow furrowed slightly, curiosity prickling at her, but before she could ask, Rafe exhaled through his nose and said,

“I think we should talk.”

She hesitated, then gave him a small nod, eyes darting away as she jerked her chin toward the passenger seat in silent invitation. As Rafe moved around the car to get in, she saw it—the bloodied t-shirt still crumpled where she’d left it. She quickly snatched it up in an instant, shoving it into the back seat just as Rafe opened the door.

He settled into the passenger seat, the dim light from the dashboard casting a faint glow over them. He glanced at her, ready to speak, but then his expression shifted. His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening as he took in the dark bruising spreading across her nose, the faint swelling along her cheekbone. His voice was sharp, edged with something she didn’t want to name.

“The fuck is that?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

Y/N barely blinked responding- many years of experience had taught her to lie without hesitation. Rafe let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

“And what? The stairs punched you in the face when you got to the bottom?”

Her fingers curled into fists against her lap, the muscles in her jaw tightening, “Just shut the fuck up, Rafe. If you don’t have anything to say, get out of my car.”

"I'm trying to be nice-"

"Yeah? Well I don't want your niceties"

His nostrils flared, exhaling a long, irritated breath, but he pushed it down. His fingers drummed once against the envelope in his lap before he finally stilled. Rafe shifted in his seat, gripping the envelope before exhaling like he was about to say something.

“So, I—”

Before he could get another word out, a loud growl echoed through the car. She froze, her lips pressing together as if that could take it back. Apart from the lunch she’d had with Sofia, she hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Her body had clearly decided to remind her of that at the worst possible moment.

“Sorry”

She mumbled, trying to act like it was nothing. Rafe gave her a look, one brow lifting.

“Do you need to eat or…?”

She shook her head quickly, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced at all, he looked skeptical as he started patting his pockets, digging around like he was searching for something. After a few seconds, he pulled out a slightly squished protein bar and held it out to her.

“Here.”

Y/N stared at him, blinking in disbelief and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Relax, it’s Topper’s. He left it in my car.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing between him and the protein bar before finally taking it from his hand. “Thanks,” she muttered, unwrapping it and taking a small bite, the dull ache in her stomach started to ease almost instantly.

Rafe just watched.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the envelope in his hands as she chewed the protein bar. She gestured to it with her fingers, swallowing before asking,

“What is it?”

“It’s a trip to Charleston. With a hotel booked near a—” His jaw tensed, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Near a clinic.”

Her chewing slowed- then it stopped altogether.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bar as she stared at him. Two days. He hadn’t spoken to her in two days, and in that time… he had organised this? She asked, her voice quieter than before.

“What?”

“I found a clinic in Charleston. One that’s, you know… quiet.” He lifted the envelope slightly as he shifted in his seat.

“Booked an appointment for you.”

Her fingers crumpled the wrapper before shoving it into the empty cup holder. Slowly, she reached out, taking the envelope from him, her fingertips brushing against the brown paper as she peeled it open. Inside, there were neatly printed documents- clinic appointment verification, hotel booking confirmation, the details laid out in plain ink. She stared at them, her eyes scanning over the words but barely processing them.

“You did this…?”

“Yeah.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, she wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond. Rafe ran a hand over his jaw, his voice quieter now.

“You deserve to have that option you know.... It’s not like you asked to get pregnant.”

Her fingers curled around the papers, her grip tightening slightly. She nodded once, her throat suddenly feeling tight. A breath passed her lips, and then, in the softest voice- so quiet because if it was any louder, she knew it would waver- she murmured,

“Thank you.”

She pulled out the clinic information, her eyes scanning over the details. “It’s for Tuesday evening,” Rafe said, watching her as she read. “Least busy time of the week.” Y/N nodded slightly, and she turned the envelope upside down, letting the rest of its contents slide out- and then her breath hitched.

A thick wad of cash fell into her lap, the weight of it heavy.

Her fingers hesitated before picking it up, and as she held it, she could already tell- it wasn’t some small stack of bills- it was a lot. She turned to him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Is this for all the clini—”

“No,” he cut in before she could even finish, shaking his head, “the hotel, the ferry, the clinic—it’s all been paid for.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion. “I'm sorry... ?”

“It’s been paid for”

He repeated, voice firm. She glanced down at the money again, gripping it a little tighter. She lifted it slightly, gesturing as she asked him.

“So… what’s this for?”

“It’s for Friday.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose and her stomach clenched slightly. Friday. The evening she'd spent being his- private dancer. “Oh” she muttered, realization settling in. Rafe’s jaw ticked, and he gave her a small nod.

“Yeah… it’s yours.”

Y/N looked down to the green paper biting her lip before she flicked her fingers through the thick stack of bills, her breath catching as she counted. Her eye's widened in disbelief and she recounted it all again- slowly and surely, yet the result was the same.

Three thousand dollars.

Her head shook immediately, “Rafe, I can’t take this.”

“Y/N—”

“No, I— I can’t take this,” she said more firmly now, shoving the cash back into the envelope.

“This is insane. We didn’t even—fuck, I didn’t even 'dance' for you”

She said and both of them knew exactly what she was referring to when she spoke of dancing. His jaw clenched as he sighed out,

“Just take it.”

“No.”

His frustration spiked slightly, “Can you stop being so fucking stubborn and take the money?” Y/N met his stare head-on, her grip still firm on the envelope. Yet neither of them backed down. Rafe exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against his knee before he tried again.

"Just take the money… please."

His voice was lower this time, a little less sharp, and when she glanced up at him, his eyes weren’t as hard as before. Y/N looked back down at the envelope in her lap, her fingers grazing over the edges. Her chest felt tight, torn between her pride and the harsh reality of needing it. She let out a quiet breath, then slid the money back into the envelope without another word. Deep down, as much as she hated accepting it, she knew she needed it.

Y/N looked back down to her lap and picked up the folded pieces of paper, the crinkling of the paper broke the heavy silence and she stared at it her fingers slowly dragging over the surface, tracing the edge of the ferry ticket she’d just pulled out.

There were two.

Her thumb brushed over the printed words on the tickets, her gaze flickering between them. The cold night air from the open window tugged at her hair, but she barely noticed. “Thought you’d want to take someone with you...” he said, nodding toward the tickets,

“So you’re not alone.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she caught the sincerity in his gaze. It was strange, this version of Rafe, the one who wasn’t demanding or mocking, just... there. She couldn’t help but feel the tight knot in her chest loosen just slightly.

“One of your Pogues or something”

He added. She let out a small, heavy sigh as her head leaned back against the headrest. Her fingers fidgeted with the tickets again, but this time it wasn’t because she was trying to make sense of them. It was because something in her stomach twisted- an ache that had nothing to do with hunger anymore. Her gaze dropped to the tickets in her hands, the crinkling of the paper loud in the quiet car.

“They don’t know”

She said softly, her voice barely a whisper, the words tumbling out like an admission she hadn’t meant to make. Rafe’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he turned to look at her more intently.

“What?”

Y/N’s lips parted, but she hesitated for a moment. She swallowed hard, her eyes still on the tickets, the words coming out barely above a whisper,

“No one knows”

The car seemed to get even quieter, the sound of the ocean in the distance a hum. She could feel his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up tp him. The silence stretched on, thick and unspoken, until finally, she turned to face him, her voice low but steady.

“…You’re the only one who knows.”

Rafe froze.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening, but all he could do was sit there, processing what she’d just said. Y/N’s words hung in the air, and she couldn’t quite shake the vulnerability that had seeped into her bones- the weight of the secret that had been hers alone to carry. She stared down at the ferry tickets again, her fingers absently shuffling them in her lap, but her mind was elsewhere. After what felt like hours, she broke the silence. Her voice was small, fragile,

“Would—... would you go with me?”

The question hung in the air between them, tentative and raw, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t meant to ask it, hadn’t planned on it, but there it was, slipping out like a confession. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at her, his face unreadable, his eyes scanning hers like he was trying to figure out if she really meant it.

If this was truly what she wanted.

The seconds dragged by, stretched thin as they sat in the car, Finally, Rafe spoke out, his voice low, almost as if he's not sure he heard her correctly. 

"Me?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady on him, her fingers tightening around the ferry tickets.  He already knew deep down what his answer was going to be, but the question still caught him off guard and he hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to go with her- but because he wasn’t sure what it would change between them. He sighed, his hand twitching against his thigh before he turned to her fully, meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah... I’ll go with you."

There's a long pause as the words settle between them, and Y/N looks at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to take it back, but he doesn’t.

He means it.

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skincare sweetz! 🍰🎀

Astrid Munoz wears Christian Dior Fall/Wint 1997 by Patrick Demarchelier

doechii @ tom ford fw25

helmut lang in net mode: web fashion now - laird borrelli (2002)

Alyson Dubey & Drew Gregory for i-D Japan, photos by Josh Wilks

chloé fw25 details

mariacarla boscono @ roberto cavalli s/s 2003

alyson dubey for id japan, photos by josh wilks

God wouldn’t have put a dream so big in your heart and soul if it wasn’t achievable.

frou frou and fab ❤︎︎

shhh… problematic favs ❤︎︎

❥ joseline hernandez, tamar braxton, nicki minaj, kim kardashian, bella hadid, the clermont twins

Marc Jacobs Fall 1995

foxy brown front row at the marc jacobs spring 2003 fashion show.

Christy for Marc Jacobs Fall 1995.