Glasses

double-crossed — rafe cameron x reader

☄. *. ⋆ content warning(s) & genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, open wounds mentioned, violence depicted, anger issues depicted, sexually explicit content, unprotected sex, aggressive sex, rafe is soft, reader is even softer — smut

˚♡ ｡˚ synopsis: you despised him as much as he despised you. to him, you were nothing but a traitor to your people. you were a threat to him, he had finally met his match, but in their time of need, it's amazing who people turn to.

✧.*

the beach bonfire burned the brightest in the cut. where the waves were stronger and the sun was more intense. the lack of money was made up to you by the abundance of friends and peace. nobody really needed the money—that was what they lived by. all money did was make life easier, but life wasn't supposed to be easy. life's a bitch, until you make it your bitch.

“you're thinkin' real hard, ma, what's on your mind?” on the dock, there was a good view of the sun setting. everyone was tucked away, and the air's crisp. the sky was tinted with orange and blue, fading into the rippling sea. jj sat next to you as you lost track of time, lost track of yourself, eyes glued to what was in front of you.

“gonna kill him when i see him,” your voice was flat, monotone. jj frowned, the corners of his mouth tipping downward. it would have been easier on him if he knew you were joking, but he knew you weren't. “won't have any fuckin' parts left to bury.”

you could handle the threats and tension, but rafe cameron had crossed a line when he put his hands on pope. pope, who had done the least amount of provoking out of everybody. you hadn't been there when he had gotten jumped, and it pained you deeply. you were always ready, however. what you needed was some alone time with rafe, to get him in order your way.

“your hands are all fucked up.” jj commented, signalling to the various cuts and bruises that littered the knuckles on your fists. you brushed it off, much like everything. the walls in your room were stained with crimson—it'd taken the help of cleo, jj and kiara to hold and calm you down. kiara and sarah sent you out to recollect yourself, while they spent their time rubbing the blood out of your walls.

everybody was worried, there was no denying it. you could be more aggressive than you needed, but nobody could get used to it. ever since your parents disowned you, left you out of their will—you left home, left one side just to end up in the cut. you were alone, had no money, no family, no years of independence or experience. you still made something of yourself, found the love in your heart to call yourself a proud pogue. rafe was the first to call you a traitor, spending every moment in your presence unleashing empty threats and insults. you didn't care about rafe, you didn't care about anyone, not even yourself. you just needed to get your shit done.

“he's not worth it, (y/n),” it was unlike jj to say something of the sort—he relied primarily on instinct and nothing else. no thought, no thinking of the consequences. pure reflexes. “let him get himself fucking killed.” you didn't answer him, the sound of the waves filling in the silence. it was exactly what you were gonna do, you were gonna let him get fucking killed.

in the comfort of your own home, you found peace. it was a simple atmosphere, with the beat-down trailer park making no impression on the outside. the inside was what mattered, the warmth spreading through you as you rolled up your blinds, exposing the moonlight that embraced your skin gracefully. the air that passed through the cracked window was cool, refreshing. you retrieved a beer bottle from the fridge, the cool air grazing your bare legs as you kicked your legs over the sofa, spreading yourself out before slamming the cap of the bottle against the table's edge.

you ran a hand through your freshly-dried hair, wincing as the cheap fabric of the couch grazed your sunburnt bits. it was hot, despite the pinch of cool air, despite your lack of clothes. you were in nothing but one of jj's shirts, your panties underneath. the first buzz of dopamine hot you like a truck as you took a swig of beer, cold and invigorating. the television screen hummed with lights, volume at a bare minimum. you had soon began to regret your decision as the sound of weight against wood began to fill your ears.

your head spun towards the source of the sound, your front door locked, just a few feet away from your sofa. you rolled your eyes at the sound of the pounding, audible heavy breathing on the other side. “son of a motherfucker.” you snatched the blade sitting on the edge of your table, tucking it neatly into your underwear before pacing towards the door.

the sound of soft grunts were heard from the other side, but you had no way of making out who it was. with a steady hand, you prepared yourself, carefully unlocking the door before grabbing onto the handle, pulling with a quick flick of your wrist.

to make a miracle happen, you had to believe in them. to make a calamity happen, you had to be yourself. “you're fucking kidding.” he had his hands up, as if to say, “don't hurt me, i'm not armed,” but you couldn't take any chances, not while rafe cameron was standing on your porch in the middle of the night. you clutched your blade in one hand, using the other to disregard his stance of defeat. “no no no, (y/n)—” you grabbed onto the hem of his shirt as you pulled him into your house, past the steps of the porch. the back of his head hit your wall as you kicked the door closed and, in a matter of seconds, you had your elbow pushing down on his chest, the knife against his throat.

“(y/n), please,” he panted, straining against your touch. you shook your head, glaring at him. “not a chance, rafe,” you hissed. he closed his eyes shut, his breathing almost irregular. “give me one good reason as to why i shouldn't gut you right fucking now.”

he had no reliable answer, no good one, at least. he stayed quiet, with the knife pressing into his throat, for a good while. you watched his hands fly back up once more, the pressure you held him down with slowly loosening as he signalled to his shirt. it was torn up, stained with fresh blood. you stared at the mess, before returning his desperate gaze. “please, (y/n).”

hesitantly, you retracted the blade from his skin, letting it drop to the floor. you could tell the blood was fresh, watching the way it spresd throughout the white material of his shirt. your fingertips slid down his chest, aiming to grab ahold of the shirt's hem. you watched him, as if awaiting his approval—he nodded carefully.

the shirt was slick with blood, practically having to be peeled off his skin. he winced, stiffling a grunt of excruciating pain as you slid the shirt further up his chest, holding it down with one hand. you used the other hand to examine the situation. he had been shot. that's what it looked like, at least. the blood was constant, the wound very much open. your breath hitched as you met his gaze once more, his eyes fluttering, as if he was ready to give out at any moment.

“shit, rafe, i got you,” you wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders, your arm around his waist as you helped him walk towards the sofa. “jesus, fuck.” carefully, you sat him down, making sure he wouldn't cinch the wound. he let out a cry he failed to hold back as you helped him position himself, laying him onto his back.

it was a compromising, unexpected situation. you weren't exactly sure of what to do, whether you should've been calling jj or john b or, anybody, really. all you really knew was, in that moment, you had no rage to hold onto. you were concerned, and you had wished it was for your white sofa, and not the man bleeding onto it.

“what happened, rafe?” he shook his head, leaning it back as you listened. while he talked, you paced into the kitchen, frantically grabbing onto what you thought you'd need. rags, water, rubbing alcohol. you knew you had a medical kit in there somewhere, you just had to find it. “came by the cut, couldn't sleep. shit on my mind,” you hurried back to him, setting what you had found aside. you watched the wound swell with blood before taking one of your clean kitchen rags and placing it directly onto the source, applying as much pressure as possible. “got shot on the deck, didn't know where else to go.”

you scoffed as you positioned your fingers, putting weight onto his wound. it didn't seem too deep, but the bullet had to have been lodged in there. “could've called the hospital instead of comon' here.” he wiped his face with his hands, nodding, as if he was sorry. “i know, i just,” he paused, looking for the right words. “something told me to come here, y'know?”

you didn't question it, you weren't sure if you wanted to. you retracted the fully-stained rag, setting it aside before replacing it with another one. the aim was to soak up all the excess blood, stop the bleeding for a bit. once it had been soaked up, all that was left were the streaks of it trailing down his navel. “don't move,” you ordered, leaving him to go back for the medical kit. on the way back, as well as forth, you thought about what you were really doing. you had a chance, one to finish him off. you had the opportunity to avenge everyone—sarah, john b, pope. everybody, but you had no leverage. no rage left to hold onto, at least, not then. not while he was vulnerable.

“thanks for taking me in, i'm really sorry.” you set your kit aside, opening it to reveal neat arrays of medicine, shots, epi pens, and such. “don't thank me yet, this'll sting real bad,” you warned as you pulled out a packet of cotton pads. he gulped as he watched you—he couldn't look away, for whatever reason. you dampened the pads with the rubbing alcohol you had brought earlier. to your surprise, rafe's fingers had weakly latched onto your shirt, holding as he braced himself.

“king kook can't take the heat, what a surprise,” you laughed teasingly. he rolled his eyes, purposely retracting his touch. “you really should hold on, it'll burn.” you were right. because, the minute the pad came into contact with his wound, he found himself pulling at your shirt once more, a string of curses following.

the more you strived to disinfect it, the more the pain dialed down. you were careful to use gentle hands, wiping away as you circled his wound before finally discarding it. “you okay?” he nodded, his grip loosening as he let out a sigh of relief. he didn't have much time to deal with the pain, knowing there was only more to follow.

“rafe, i really need you to trust me now.” to extract the bullet, you needed a steady mind as much as steady hands. if you were to hit an artery, an organ—it would be fatal for him. “came here for a reason, (y/n),” he laughed weakly as he leaned back, watching the way you searched for the tools you needed. “were the best nurse on the damn island. still are.”

you shared in his laughter, the need to reminisce greater than the need to resist. “remember when you scraped your knee?” he was quick to agree, looking back on the years you two had shared together as kids. “oh, yeah,” he chuckled. “you came running with your stupid kit. all you had was water and bandages, this is an improvement.” you had fixed his knee up then the way you were now.

“when'd things all get so fucked?” the laughter had dialed down as you shrugged. “probably when i became a traitor, so you like to say.”

he shook his head, as if disagreeing, despite being his statement in the first place. “nah, nah. didn't betray any of us,” he paused to clear his throat, desperately searching for your eyes. “just miss you, y'know?” you didn't know if it was the pity that tugged at your heartstrings, watching him, sick and pale on your sofa, but you felt your gaze soften. “miss you too, rafe.”

you felt him wince at the feeling of the cold, metallic tool grazing his overheated stomach. he bit his lip as he watched you. no amount of trust could make up for how afraid he really was, it could all go wrong in a matter of minutes. he knew it, and you did. you knew it—you knew it as you used your left hand to reach for him, the atmosphere shifting as he reached back, lacing his fingers through yours. he gave your hand a squeeze, as if giving you all the permission you needed to continue.

treating the wound was the easy part. working your magic, extracting the bullet. you had it wrapped up in thirty minutes, more or less. what presented an issue was rafe. you couldn't ignore the way tears slid down his cheeks, moans of pain passing his lips as he gripped your hand. he held on tight, his leaving crescents on your knuckles. you had apologized a million times, the sound of his cries burdening your heart. during the entire process, he looked like he was ready to fall unconscious at any second. you wished he had, it'd have been a lot easier.

“thank you, so much,” his voice was softer than ever as you finished stitching him up; you were ready to wrap his wound just to be careful. “i'll be out of your hair as soon as you finish, promise.” you scoffed at the idea, despite being aware of the circumstances. he was right, he should get going as soon as possible. you didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, made it impossible for you to let him leave. “yeah, sure,” he met your eyes as you cut off a piece of gauze. “stay the night, can't go anywhere like that.”

“are you sure you want a kook here, pogue?” you knew he was joking, but it didn't stop you from tying the gauze a little too tight as you shot him a glare. “this pogue just saved your life.” it was clear who had won the argument.

you helped him get comfortable, offering him a spare top and shorts. “can i ask why you have men's clothes in extra large?” you shrugged, tossing him a wife beater and cargo shorts. “it's all jj's shit,” you didn't miss the look he shot you, his eyes switching between you and the clothes in hand. “don't tell me you have a problem with pogue clothes, too.”

he shook his head as you walked into the kitchen, allowing him all the privacy he needed while you went to retrieve two beers. unfortunately, the one you had set out earlier had grown accustomed to the room temperature. “nah, nothing like that, just wondering why you have all his shit,” you heard him as you pulled the glass bottles out. when you looked back, you froze in your tracks. he had been in the middle of pulling his joggers down, replacing them with jj's shorts. you wanted to look away, you really did, but you couldn't retract your gaze. before you could, rafe cocked his head to the side, locking eyes with you as a smirk played on his lips. “nothing you haven't seen before, sweetheart.”

you scoffed, pulling your gaze away in a state of pure embarrassment. “they call it the past for a reason, asshole.” you tossed him the bottle, watching him catch it with a taunting scoff.

you allowed him as much space as he needed on the couch, sitting on the other side as you opened your bottle the same way you had done earlier. rafe watched you, an almost genuine smile on his face, “some things never change, huh?” you turned to face him with a puzzled look, taking a swig of your drink as you did so. “all the bottle openers in the world, and you've been doing that since we were twelve.”

“yeah, i've always been the creative one, haven't i?” you watched as he copied your tactic, positioning the bottle as he slammed his palm into the cap, letting it pop right off. he had bent forward in a way that let your eyes explore him whole—you watched the way the muscles in his arms flexed, eyes sternly glaring at the bottle in hand. what you had noticed before anything else was the chain wrapped around his neck. you hadn't paid much attention before, but you had a clear view of it now.

even as he laid back down, your eyes remained glued to the familiar piece of jewellry. it was old, you could tell, what was supposed to be silver had tarnished after years of being worn. it was real silver, delicate patterns tracing the shape. rafe looked at you, following your gaze before he pulled at the chain with his thumb, his lips curling into a smile. “pretty, isn't it?” you nodded, but it was just as familiar as it was pretty. “yeah, been wearing it for years.”

“feel like i've seen it before,” you finally announced. he took a sip of beer, eyebrows raised as the smile never faltered. “i'd hope so,” he murmured, earning a look of confusion from you. “it's the best gift you've ever given me.”

it had taken a while for your memory to lock in, your look of puzzled concentration faltering after a minute. as a kook, you had spent your entire childhood with rafe. until the day your parents kicked you out, you were by his side. until the day you left and became a pogue, you were his to protect. when you were thirteen, he was a year older. you remembered buying him the chain a day before his birthday, locking it around his neck the day the clock struck midnight. “you've really kept it all these years?” your voice was soft, too soft. he nodded, though hesitant. he could barely look you in the eyes. “of course i did,” as if the answer had been obvious to everyone but you. “my favorite girl gave it to me.”

the guilt that had ate away at you all those years had begun to resurface. you thought you were angry, all this time. ever since he had crossed the poor side of the island the first time after your departure—after calling you a traitor—you thought you had been harboring anger. you hadn't betrayed your people, you had betrayed him. behind his façade of a blinding fury, he was hurt. you could see it in his eyes all those years ago, and you could see it now.

“you just took off,” he continued. “went to your house and your parents said they kicked you out. did you even think to tell me? ever think about your best friend taking you in.”

the anger had begun peeking past the pain he had been keeping inside all those years. “couldn't ask that of you, rafe. i had to go.” he scoffed, no matter how honest you were being. you couldn't face him—not him, or ward, rose. none of them, not after losing all you had. it was a match made, because that day, rafe had lost all he had, too. “so, you ran? didn't tell me shit, just left me,” his voice practically broke near the end of his sentence. “you were all i had.”

for the first time in a long time, you ignored the way your head grew foggy. you ignored the way your blood boiled and heart pounded. you ignored the anger you had been training in order to save yourself of the guilt. “i'm sorry, rafe,” you had apologized. it was quiet, but only for a while.

“forgave you a long time ago,” the way he always had. not just anybody, but you.

you had begun to imagine what your life could have been like, how many things you could have prevented for rafe and yourself. you would have lost the friends you had now, but you'd have kept the boy who was always by your side. you could have spared him the pain brought onto him by ward, by everybody. the only time he mattered was when he was with you. the artificial dream was nothing but artificial.

“i should've been there,” you summed your thoughts aloud. “after everything, i should've been there for you.”

rafe shook his head, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he sighed. “you were the only person i wanted with me,” he admitted. his words struck a nerve, your chest growing tight at the confession. “not a day's gone by, where i haven't thought about you.”

you had spent so much of your time hating him, detesting him for the way he had grown harsh and cold. how he treated you during your hour of need, but where were you when he needed you? “if i could take it all back, you know i would.” he knew you would, in a heartbeat. the hatred was nothing but the color that stained the canvas—the canvas, grief, pain. you were both in pain, you both felt betrayed. “i wish you could,” he wished you could. he really did.

the clock next to the television told you that it was three hours past midnight, but you weren't tired. silence had engulfed you both whole, both of you much too hesitant to speak. you cleared your throat, “want me to help you get to bed?” rafe turned to you, meeting your eyes with a look in them you couldn't quite decipher. “i'll sleep on the couch, you've done enough.” you weren't happy with his answer, but you didn't wanna come on any stronger than you already had.

“the bed's big enough for the pair of us,” you informed him. “you got shot, you aren't sleeping alone let alone on the couch.” he didn't want to resist, all he wanted was to jump out of his skin and straight onto the bed. your bed. with you right next to him. you offered a smile, watching his eyebrows furrow as if he were in deep thought. “it'll be just like old times.”

the bed really was big enough, enough space for a third party, too. that was precisely why your house was the go-to spot within your group of pogues. the amount of times you had woken up to jj, pope and john b drunkenly stacked on top of each other was incredible. there was always enough room for the girls, too.

you had spread out two blankets, one on top of the other. it was as humid as ever on the coast, so you really didn't need it. what you needed was to prevent rafe from losing more blood. “is this alright?” he nodded appreciatively. you felt him behind you, his presence. you felt it as he towered over you from behind, and you didn't dare turn around. he had grown an impressive amount since the last time you'd seen him. the right way, at least. you'd never know it, but he watched you. he watched the way you stood there, legs bare and hair beautifully messy. you had gotten prettier since the last time he'd seen you. he could barely recognize the knockout inches away.

you took a step towards the bed, aiming to fix the edges and tuck the bedsheets in properly. the sheets were just fine, really. you just needed an excuse to cut the tension, to resist the urge to turn around. your attempt had proved unnecessary as rafe stopped you in your tracks, his large hand clamping around your wrist as he turned you around, the need to face you stronger than ever.

for a bit, you both stayed silent. he eatched you carefully, quietly admiring the way your cheeks flared as you struggled to return his gaze. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest only, this time, you weren't angry. he dropped your wrist, fingers tracing the shape of your jaw as he moved to cup your cheek. it was as if he couldn't believe it was happening, like he had been dreaming the entire way through.

“you're so pretty,” the words tumbled out before he could stop himself, unaware of what reaction he'd induce. “always been the prettiest on the island.” he admired the work the sun had done on your skin, your eyes, your nose, your lips. the way your natural hair color had faded under the heat, but remained healthy and stunning.

you would always be his girl, nobody else's. you knew it, he knew it. nobody else needed to know, it was your truth. it was what gave you sudden courage, a dose of adrenaline. it gave you enough to stand up to him, hands of your own moving to cup his cheeks before you pressed your lips to his. he gave in the moment he walked into your house. really, the moment he had met you. even while you weren't his, he was still yours. he still gave in, and he would give in every single time.

as his lips met yours, it was as if the world faded away. the kiss started slow, a delicate exploration that ignited a fire within. rafe's fingers traced the contours of your jaw, his touch leaving a trail of heat. the taste of him was intoxicating, a perfect blend of beer and longing. his lips moved with a rhythm that spoke of familiarity, a dance that only the two of you shared. the kiss deepened, a magnetic pull drawing you closer. your hands found their way to the back of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair as the intensity heightened.

in a bold move, rafe's hands began to explore, trailing down your sides, igniting sparks along your skin. with a sudden urgency, he lifted you slightly, guiding you towards the bed. the softness of the mattress embraced you as the kiss continued, a symphony of desire building with each passing moment. the world outside ceased to exist as you succumbed to the intoxicating allure of rafe's touch. the room became a haven for whispered promises and shared vulnerability. you melted into the embrace of the bed, allowing the connection between you and rafe deepen, an unspoken understanding that transcended words.

“watch your wound, rafe,” you warned, gasping as his newly treated wound caught your attention. he couldn't care less, planting sloppy kisses alongside your jaw. your eyes fluttered shut. “don't give a shit, got better things to do,” he murmured, peppering kisses down your neck as he pulled at the hem of your shirt. he tugged at it—jj's shirt. “take this shit off, you're not wearing his clothes anymore.”

the proposal didn't seem to bother you that much. you complied, allowing him to pull the shirt off with your arms in the air. your breasts fell bare, capturing his attention faster than ever. “just like that, baby,” he practically growled. you couldn't help the moans that passed your lips as he attacked your chest, wet lips travelling down the valley as he tugged with his teeth, massaged with his tongue. you pulled at his blond locks, letting his lips trail back up your tits before latching onto yours once more.

while waiting for you to catch up, rafe undid the knot on his shorts and pushed them down to his ankles, kicking them off before removing his tank top. he was left in only a pair of loose grey boxers that rested low on his hips, showing off his v-line and his hip bones. he then motioned to you to do the same. “come on, take off your panties,” he said, grinning. “let me see that pussy.” you pouted in response. he stepped closer to you, putting his large, warm hands on your hips. “you want me to do it for you?” you bit your lip and nod slightly.

he held onto the waistband of your panties and pulled them down as he sunk to his knees. he let the delicate fabric fall next to him, looking hungrily at the newly exposed area. he leaned his face in and pressed his nose to the joint of your leg and groin, taking a deep inhale of your scent. you couldn't suppress your moans, and neither could he, the tightness in his boxers unbearable. it was wet—so wet, he almost wanted to chuckle and tease you a while. just for old time's sake, but the ache that shot down to his cock reminded him that he was in no position to tease you while not dealing any better himself. he spread your legs, kissing gently at your clit in a feather-like touch that had you moaning and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“so pretty,” he murmured, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time, this perfect pussy.” “rafe,” you gasped in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you needed him most—equally because you really needed him on your cunt and because you really needed him to shut up. “fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, chuckling as he toyed with you, “that’s so fuckin’ cute.”

the impatience had him dragging his tip along your folds, collecting the slick pooling at your cunt before pushing right past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buried himself to the brim. his jaw clenched, breath labored as he waited for you to adjust, let you kiss his cheeks and jaw while you murmured how handsome he was, how perfect he felt, how good was to you. your hips bucked up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he drilled into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buried his cock into you as deep as it could go with every aggressive thrust. you could feel the head kissing against the sweet spot in the back of your walls, your trembling pussy sucking him in and hugging around him as he groaned.

the friction felt sickening, like he could pass out at any second, like he was drifting along the bridge of pleasure and the crevice of consciousness. it wasn't the wound causing it, it was all you. you did that to him—he didn't know how or why, but you made him feel like he didn’t have a grip on his thoughts. he didn’t mind it so much, he thought—didn't hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around it. he was where he belonged.

rafe, in all his years of knowing you, had never experienced the side of you that could be that gentle. the side that slid your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his lats and biceps, gently caressing the skin like was made to be worshipped. your lips seared into every part of him they could find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face dug into your neck. even your voice was a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, as if saying it wrong could break him. 

“fuck, you're so tight,” he rasped, whining into your neck as your hand cupped the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips slammed into you sloppily, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he neared his climax, but it didn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, drilling into your sensitive bit each time without fail. “cum—i’m gonna cum. cum with me, baby.”

it was messy, the way cum spilled out of you and coated his dick, but it was flawless and felt so, so right, as if it was showing him all the ways he could've had you all these years. you couldn't help but think how perfectly rafe fit against you as his body slumped on top of yours, panting and exhausted as he caged you in his arms.

“don't leave,” was all he could make out through rasps, his body sputtering. you smiled sweetly, fingers looping through his as your eyes fluttered shut. “not a chance,” you promised. “not this time.”

GIVE ME BACK JOHN B AND JJ AS THE MOST CHAOTIC BESTIE DUO PLEASE 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Best Friends Brother~ Jeremiah Fisher

WARRING- Shower Sex, Unprotected Sex

"I'm going to shower now." You told Conrad.

"All right, I'm going to take a nap." Conrad Yawned.

After getting a towel from the bathroom closet, you turn on the shower.

After changing out of your clothes, you head to the shower.

"Can I join you?" A voice asks. You turn around and see Jeremiah standing outside of the shower, naked.

"What? No, get out!" You try to cover yourself. But he steps into the shower with you away.

"I said get out Jer. This can't happen again. The last time, Conrad almost caught us.”

"But he didn't." He said this before pulling the shower curtain shut.

"We can't do this." Before you can say anything else, he kisses you.

"He won't find out." He said

"I don't want to risk it." As you turn to leave, you tell him.

"I know you want this, so stop denying it." He moves toward you.

He reaches over and places his hand on your arm, drawing you toward him.

"We can't." You mutter. He kisses you after pushing you up against the wall.

He drops to his knees and raises an eyebrow at you. You give him permission by nodding your head. He licks at your folds, the warm shower water hitting his back.

"That feels so good." You moan.

"Shh, we don't want Conrad to hear." He says.

You bring his head closer to your pussy and pull his hair between your fingers.

He gets up and gives you a kiss. He grabs your thighs and thrusts hard into you without any warning.

You tried to stop your moans by biting your lips, but they kept coming out.

He keeps a steady pace while trying to get you to reach your peak.

"You need to be quiet. We don't want to get caught." Jeremiah keeps you quiet with two fingers in your mouth.

"I'm going to cum." You try not to scream as you moan.

"Cum for me, y/n."

You cum, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. To calm you down, Jeremiah shoves his fingers into your mouth again. You can feel him tremble and release.

As you both catch your breath, he places you on the ground. "We need to be more discreet next time." You said .

"Who says there's going to be a next time?"Jeremiah jokes in a playful way. You laugh and act like you were hitting him.

"I said there's going to be a next time." You say it in a serious manner.

"I'll take you up on that offer," Jeremiah said .

"It's not an offer, it's a demand." You smirk with a glare

"Okay, whatever you say." Jeremiah throws his hand up jokingly.

“I’ll see you later.” Jeremiah smirks leaving the bathroom.

rafe is SO much better than me bc i woulda taken a chunk outta his neck right here

Just a little blood M.S 🔞

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt and reader are in the mood, but reader is on her period and is insecure about doing it, but matt says otherwise.

author's note: BEFORE YOU JUDGE, THIS IS ABOUT THE FACT THAT MATT IS A DECENT MAN ENOUGH TO WANT YOU WHILE YOUR A LITTLE KETCHUP BOTTLE.

warnings: p in the v, smut, blood, cursing, praise, unprotected (don't do that), teasing

"That's it, baby. Come here." Matt moaned, pulling me into a kiss. His hands sliding up my back into my top, unclasping my bra without having to look.

I had just sucked him off, and that was the only deal for me tonight because I was on my period, which Matt didn't know about.

The night was going to a whole different route, finding that Matt was very desperate and needy for me.

I open your mouth to deepen the kiss, moaning into his as I wrap my arms around his neck.

I pull away, my lips making a smooch sound with his when they part, Matt meeting my gaze.

"You are so fucking perfect..." He breathed, his hand sliding up my leg to squeeze my ass. "You know what you've done to me? You've turned me into a fucking addict. Every time I see you, I need you."

I knew about the affect I had on him, and I loved it. It only fueled us both more.

I lay back, propping on my elbows, holding his gaze and the nape of his neck gently.

"If you're gonna keep saying those things, why not do something about it?" I tease, failing to hide the smugness in my tone and the smirk my lips curled into.

"Oh, fuck..." Matt groaned, his eyes going dark, him grinning. "You're just asking for it, baby." His voice came out rough, his hands sliding under my top to drag my lacy bra up and off before he also removes my top from over my head.

"Oh, asking for what exactly?" I tease further, tilting your head to the side slightly with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, I'll show you what you're asking for in just a moment." He breathed out, looking deep into my eyes like he was a starved man as he leaned down, trailing soft, slow kisses over the skin of my cleavage.

"I think you're all talk." I reply, forgetting the control Matt has over me, looking down at him.

He stops with the kisses, lifting his head to look at me immediately when I make that comment. Matt takes one of my sensitive nipples into his mouth, knowing that'll shut me up.

"Oh, don't do that..." I whisper, enjoying the pleasure, but not being able to take the teasing.

"Don't do what?" He teased, nipping at my other nipple, his face buried in the skin of my breast. "You didn't think I was all talk, did you?" He growled, pinching the other between his fingers and tugging slightly.

I moan, my back arching and my hips bucking in the air slightly.

Even though I promised myself I'd just let Matt only do certain things that didn't involve him having to know about my period, there was still an undeniable heat between my legs that ached for attention.

"Give it to me how I like it, Matt." I beg.

"I'll give it to you," he growled, nibbling on my tit, enjoying the assault. His hand slid down, pulling at the waistband of my pants.

Suddenly I tense up, my eyebrows raising when he tries to remove my pants. I sit up, causing Matt's mouth to move away from my breast.

"What?" He asked, his breathing heavy. His eyes were locked onto my body, particularly my tits.

I look into his eyes, not knowing how to say what you were gonna say as I swallow my own spit.

"I'm on my period." I let it spill like a casual sentence, which it should be because periods are normal.

I wasn't embarrassed about admitting something like that, but I was more focused on the fact that I told him after I've gone through teasing him and sucking his dick to nearly fucking.

"I don't care." He replies casually, his eyes locked on mine, shrugging as if to say 'what's stopping me?'

I knew he wouldn't care, but it seemed as if he was implying something.

"Matt, did you not hear me? I said I'm on my period." I reply, narrowing my eyes.

"I heard you," He grumbled, "But it doesn't change anything." His eyes were intense, filled with lust and desire.

I look into his eyes, raising my eyebrows in surprise, letting out a chuckle before I start to get turned on again.

I pull him in, laying on my back as we lock lips.

"Mhm," He moaned, his hands exploring my body once more. He kissed down my neck, his hands gripping my thighs before he leaned up to look at me. "You're turning me on, so don't stop just yet."

My eyes were on him as I begin to remove my pants quickly.

"Anything for you." I breathe out, tossing my skirt to the side before hesitating to remove my underwear and the pad that was attached to it.

I worried about the smell, and how he'd react to just my period overall. The self-conscious was still there even if I knew Matt wasn't that type, and he said he didn't care.

I look back at his eyes for reassurance.

"Baby," he groaned, looking at my body hungrily. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he pushed me on my back, pinning me to the bed. "I don't care about the smell or the mess. I just want you."

"Yeah?" I ask softly, my face softening with a smile, my heart warming up.

"Yes, baby, I promise you it's nothing that's a deal breaker for me," Matt responds seriously, looking deeply into my eyes, his hands on your hips. "I will bury my nose 6 foot deep into you to prove it."

I hiss, scrunching my face in disgust and concern at what Matt said, him being unfazed.

"Okay, do you have a towel?" I quickly and causally ask before I change my mind because of his comment as I look around, turning my head.

I needed the towel to put it underneath me, so blood doesn't get on his bed and stain it.

"Yeah," he said softly, gently getting off me.

He makes a quick trip to the bathroom, grabbing the towel before returning to me with it, placing it underneath me carefully as I lift my hips for him.

I watch him before I meet his gaze.

"Perfect. I'm ready.." I whisper, sighing as my hands return to his neck and shoulders, holding on.

He helped me remove my underwear before carefully setting it to the side, his eyes remaining on me. He smiled softly before leaning down to kiss me once more.

"You're so beautiful," he moaned before gently pushing into me, rocking his hips against my still-glistening entrance.

I raise my eyebrows and open my mouth, letting out a soft moan.

Matt let out a soft groan as he felt me tighten around him, the head of his cock pushing against something soft and wet. "Fuck, you're so wet," he moaned, leaning down to kiss and nibble on my neck.

I don't respond with the same energy as I start to feel self-conscious about the smell and simply the fact that it's blood.

"Matt, I don't know if I wanna do this..." I reply low with my eyebrows scrunched.

My response caused him to lift his head from your neck, and look at you.

Matt felt me tense up under him, and he knew that look in my eyes—the one that meant I were was to pull away. He hated that look. "Don't do that," he growled, his voice low and rough.

Suddenly when you saw how starved he truly was, my confidence regains itself as if I was never insecure.

"Don't do what?" I tease, my voice shaky and breathy as I open my mouth before biting my lip gently, holding back sounds.

"This," Matt replied, his voice still low and rough. "Don't stop." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against mine in a heated, possessive kiss that sent shivers down my spine.

I immediately close your eyes, kissing Matt back with the same energy he was giving me. I pull away to be vocal just how Matt likes it.

"That's it," he growled, his hips moving faster, his cock thrusting deeper into me. He leans up, lifting his shirt and putting it underneath his chin, so it won't get in the way, his eyes staring intensely in mine, his stomach being in display.

I moan louder, the moans just slipping out of me naturally. I never had to fake with Matt because he never gave me the reason to.

"Shit, fuck me..." I beg shakily even though he was balls deep in me.

Matt's eyes were locked on yours as he growled lowly. "That's it, baby. Take it all," he encouraged, his thrusts becoming more desperate.

I cried out in pleasure, the desperation in my face.

I lean over to see his cock pumping in and out of me, seeing my blood on it.

"Oh, how do you feel about that, Matt?" I ask sort of teasingly as I look towards him.

Matt felt my body tremble beneath him, his heart racing with the thrill of having me so entwined with him. He didn't even bother looking, his jaw clenching as he focuses on my pleasure. "It doesn't matter."

I groan in pleasure and frustration because of the things he says and the way he says them. I roam your hands on his upper back, digging my nails into his skin.

"Say that again." I request, biting my lip as I held eye contact with Matt.

Matt felt the heat between us intensify as he continued to thrust into my tight folds. He groaned lowly, the vibrations rumbling against your sensitive flesh. "It doesn't matter."

Matt's thrusts became more powerful, his hips slamming against yours. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot, making me moan even louder. He grinned wickedly, taking pleasure in the way I was so eager for him. "Yeah, baby? You like that?"

I groan at the cockiness, my eyes rolling to the back of your head. "Fuck you, fuck you," I hiss.

I wrap my legs around his waist, so he penetrates me deeper.

"Take it all," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. He felt my legs tighten around his waist, my body clenching around his cock in a way that sent waves of pleasure coursing through him.

Matt's skin slaps against mine, creating clapping noises that circulated the room.

It was so slippery and wet that Matt's cock slips out of me as he was thrusting, causing him to slow down when he notices.

When his dick slips out of me, some of the period blood also slips out of my hole, streaming down onto the towel that was underneath me.

"Hey, hey," Matt soothed, not wanting me to be self-conscious about something normal as our eyes meet. He leaned down, entering me with his dick again. "Eyes on me. Focus on me."

Escapism

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Your brother always stayed up with you whenever you couldn’t sleep and nothing has changed now that his best friend is the reason for your late nights.

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, side of Rafe x reader, lots of playing in Rafe's face, kook!reader, non canon ages

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

⭑

You were a shitty girlfriend.

Perhaps, in some ways, you were being too harsh on yourself because it wasn’t like Rafe would ever win boyfriend of the year. The blond came with a plethora of issues that could only be fixed with therapy—something you probably wouldn’t even be able to pay him to do—and he chose to handle every single one with one horrible coping mechanism after the next. When it was all said and done though, you really only had yourself to blame.

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the man before you started dating him.

You knew Rafe well—you’d grown up with him—so was it really his fault that you chose to ignore every single thing you knew about him in the hopes that he would mature and change? Was it his fault that you forgave him time and time again with the hopes that he could still change? Was he the asshole for being him or were you the asshole for going into this with the expectation he’d be something he wasn’t?

“Come on,” Topper would say to you in the dead of night. “You and I both know what he’s like—what he’s always been like.”

It was usually after he’d listen to you cry over Rafe and whatever girl he’d kissed or whatever awful thing he’d said to you, pupils blown and alcohol on his breath. He’d pull you to sit back, hands rubbing over your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It was always well into the night when you both should’ve been asleep, but per your routine as of late, you’d be waiting up for Rafe to call or text or walk through the door.

Anything to let you know he wasn’t passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“Rafe can take care of himself just fine.”

Or some variation of that would reach your ears, and you’d press your hands to your face in exhaustion. You’d never miss the bitterness—borderline malice—in Topper’s voice as he said something like that. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, but more so your relationship with the other blond as a whole and his frustration with it. Topper never wanted you to date Rafe, and you knew he took no pleasure in watching Rafe prove him right.

Rafe may have been his best friend…

…but you were ten and Topper was twelve when his mother married your father. He’d been protective of you since day one, having been an only child before that, and you knew that he hated having to let you make your own choices and mistakes with the guy you’d both once called a friend. If you and Rafe came out of this relationship intact, you doubted you’d ever call him ‘friend’ again.

He’d hurt you too much for that.

You weren’t a bad girlfriend for thinking such thoughts. Nor were you a bad girlfriend for trying to break up with him on several occasions, something Rafe would always talk you out of with promises of remorse and change. You didn’t even think you were a bad girlfriend for venting about your frustration and hurt to his best friend—your stepbrother.

You were a shitty girlfriend for allowing something to continue that should’ve ended years ago.

Fed up with talking about Rafe and how badly he’d hurt your feelings earlier in the day, Topper had pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss. A kiss that you returned, shoulders sagging and a weight lifting off of your chest as his arms circled around your waist. Rafe had called you a nag hours before, subsequently telling you he wouldn’t be staying over before hanging up without another word.

It had hurt you, but you were sure Topper was just relieved to have you all to himself.

Or at the very least, wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you anyway—Rafe under the same roof be damned.

You both were quiet in the dark living room—your parents asleep upstairs—and the longer you kissed him, the more you just wanted to forget about Rafe. The t-shirt you wore was bunching up under the blonde’s hands, and you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you, and any other night you would’ve loved to drag this out, but much like Topper…

You just wanted to feel him inside of you.

You never wore any underwear to bed, both for convenience and just because. It was something Topper had come to appreciate, and when you helped him pull his shorts down, cock springing free, you couldn’t slide down the couch fast enough. He hooked one hand under your thigh, helping you and dragging you closer, the other squeezing his cock with long strokes.

He rubbed the tip of himself against you a few times, coating the head in your essence, unsurprised at how wet and ready for him you already were. The feel made you bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your hips in an attempt to get him to sink into you even if just a little. You didn’t miss the soft chuckle that rang through the air.

“I’m sorry,” he huskily told you, pushing into you with one slow thrust. “Is that better?”

You hated his mocking tone, but not as much as you loved the feel of him stretching you out. You clawed at him, pulling him closer, sighing into his mouth when he finally kissed you again. The movements of his hips were slow, too afraid to do too much and make too much noise. The pace was enough to make your head spin and was definitely enough to make you squirm beneath him. When you started lifting your hips to meet him halfway, he groaned into the kiss.

Rafe was the furthest thing from your mind.

Sliding your hands up Topper’s frame, you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp. By the way he shuddered against you, you knew that he liked that. Every snap of his hips into yours had you swallowing down every noise that threatened to escape. His cock stroked your walls in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shifting, you felt his hand slide down to rest on the inside of your thigh, pushing it and spreading it until your leg hung off of the couch. At that, you did gasp, a choaked sound escaping your lips before you snapped them shut. His free hand was beside your head now, forearm resting on the couch cushion. You both were quiet, but your soft labored breathing could still be heard if you listened hard enough.

When you softly moaned his name, he shushed you.

“I want…” you fought to catch your breath enough to speak. “I want you to come inside of me.”

You felt another shiver travel up his spine, head falling into the crook of your neck at that. You knew he wasn’t close, but you felt like making that known. It wasn’t something you both made a habit of, but you loved the feel of Topper spilling into you, cock twitching as he coated your walls in his release. When you pushed against his hand, he got the hint, and you circled his waist with your legs, ankles hooking at the small of his back.

Topper took his time fucking you.

He often did, feeling no need to rush or no fear that you’d get caught. You didn’t know if he was just that confident in how quickly you could pull yourselves together or that it simply wouldn’t happen. Some part of you wondered if maybe he just didn’t care. You knew that couldn’t be true for several reasons, the most pressing being your boyfriend.

It was funny.

Rafe had probably cheated on you more times than you actually knew of, but the minute some other guy looked at you for even just a second too long, he was gearing up for a fight. You didn’t know if he was performative or just that skilled at compartmentalization, but you hated it. What good did it do for him to act so noble and possessive when way too many people knew how much he’d embarrassed you over the past six months?

You didn’t doubt that he’d try to kill Topper in some coked out rage if he ever knew.

Topper’s hand was cupping your breast under your shirt as he pressed kisses to your neck and jaw. He was whispering in your ear, telling you how good you felt and how wet you were, and how much he wanted to feel you coming around him. He knew what to say to send you over the edge, and at the first sound, he covered your mouth in another kiss to swallow your moans.

You squeezed him tight, walls clenching as he fucked you through your climax, cock plunging into your soaking cunt as he chased his own. His thrusts grew sloppy, and they weren’t as languid, and his blond strands kissed your forehead as they grew messy and awkward with sweat. Your legs had long fallen around him, and you pressed your hand against his lower back.

When he came, he buried his face into where your neck and shoulder met, groaning into the skin. You shuddered at the feel of him spilling into you, still clenching around him as remnants of your orgasm finally started to dissipate. His breathing was heavy against your skin before pulling back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

You could only hear your efforts to catch your breath.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, positive he could feel the action against his forehead. You fingered the top of his shorts, and you bit your lip. You didn’t say it back often—something you still had trouble accepting and admitting—but you told him enough so that he’d never doubt it.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” you quietly asked him. “Rafe probably won’t come over until after noon…if he comes over, at all.”

You tried not to let your voice shrink at the thought, but Topper caught it anyway. Pulling out of you and sitting up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. Righting himself, he pulled you to your feet, his other hand pushing his hair away from his face.

“You know you never have to ask,” he told you.

His hands were comfortably on your waist as he followed behind you, guiding you upstairs.

“What…? You got a problem or something?”

You knew it was coming when you were the only one who wasn’t laughing, unamused as he recounted his tale of how he’d cornered Pope. You’d never known the other guy to get into any trouble or bother anyone, and while you knew there would never be anything you could do about whatever petty rivalry your brother and your boyfriend and their friends involved themselves in, Pope just seemed like low hanging fruit.

He wasn’t even the type to fight back.

“I just don’t find it funny,” was all you said, squinting under the harsh rays of the sun. “You know Pope’s not even like that. I might’ve laughed if it were JJ or…I don’t know…someone who would actually put up a fight.”

Rafe’s entire demeanor clouded over at that, and you were prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth when Topper spoke.

“Rafe,” the other blond warned. “Chill.”

He seemed to anticipate Rafe’s ire just as much as you did, and Rafe paused, glancing at his best friend before huffing. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with that cold blue gaze of his. The sun shone off of his dirty blond strands, the tresses curtained along his forehead, and you watched him bring his hand up to rest against his lips before finally settling on a better response than what you both knew you almost got.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Choosing to end this fight before it even began, you sighed, looking away.

“I’m not saying anything, Rafe. You can do whatever you want,” you murmured. “You always do.”

He heard that loud and clear, and the laugh he let out wasn’t humorous in the slightest. You heard him roughly get up from his seat, chair scraping against the wooden floor. You watched him snatch his glass off the table, mumbling something about needing a refill but not before making a comment to Topper that was solely intended for you.

“Get your sister, Top,” your boyfriend drawled, making you cross your arms over your chest.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, and you avoided his gaze.

“Sometimes I swear you like fighting with him just as much as he does you.”

At that, you scoffed, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t laugh because he beat up Pope Heyward…and that was apparently a problem,” you pointed out to which Topper merely shrugged, unable to disagree. “I apologize for not finding it funny.”

“Babe,” he softly said, reaching out and touching your arm. “He’s a Pogue, and you know how Rafe is.”

His excuse for Rafe’s behavior only made you roll your eyes, and you heard him sigh as you reached for your stuff. He said your name, trying to get you to sit back down, but you were only more determined to leave once you caught sight of Kelce walking up the steps to the restaurant too. Dealing with all three of them at once was enough to give you a coronary.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer Rafe as you passed him on his way back to the table, ignoring Kelce too when he said hey to you. You hated to take it out on him when he didn’t actually do anything this time, but you knew his mindset was just as bad as Rafe’s, and so you figured it was preemptively deserved. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe was going to talk shit about you the second you were out of sight.

It was one of those days where you really felt emboldened to finally break up with him for good. Rafe hadn’t been good to you nor right for you since the beginning, and you knew that if Topper was a lesser person, he would’ve said ‘I told you so’ a million times by now. You were grateful that he didn’t make you feel worse for being naïve enough to ever believe in Rafe Cameron.

Although, some part of you wondered if having you crawl into his bed night after night was satisfaction enough.

It was hours later when he was softly apologizing for both his and Rafe’s behavior, fingers digging into your waist as you pushed yourself down onto him. Rafe had long fallen asleep, his light snores easing your worry as you’d snuck out of your room. Topper was awake—as you’d hoped—and it was true that you’d only intended to talk. Rafe’s attitude hadn’t been much better when you finally reunited again, something you were sure Topper had overheard.

“You really want to talk about Rafe, right now?” he’d whispered, hand sliding along your thigh.

“Topper,” you’d quietly hissed in warning. “Not…tonight. He’s…”

You didn’t need to finish that sentence, feeling no need to as you gestured towards his door. The blond had fixed you with a look that made your stomach flip, a hint of a smirk dancing along his pink lips as he held your gaze.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You’d swallowed at that, feeling unsure, but that was a feeling that had never stopped the other man before either. The first time he’d ever kissed you, you’d felt unsure, but Topper hadn’t cared, holding you to him and fingering you on the back deck while his mother threw some grand party downstairs. You still remembered the way you came around his fingers, an admission of insecurities somehow leading to your first ever sexual experience—and with your own stepbrother no less.

“Topper,” you’d quietly warned when he brushed his lips against yours. “Rafe…”

“Do…not…talk about him, right now,” he’d slowly said, fingers grazing along your folds just as slow.

Despite your hand against his shoulder, he’d laid you down, lips finding the skin just under your jaw.

“He’s the last thing I want to talk about, right now.”

…and he’d meant it, curving his fingers into you while pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and throat and collarbone. Any protest you had was swallowed down and quickly forgotten at the slick feeling between your legs, Topper’s fingers sinking into your cunt with ease. Your own twisted into the fabric of his shirt, hips lifted towards his hand, fighting to swallow down a whimper each time his thumb circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he’d cursed into your skin. “I love how wet you get for me.”

It wasn’t long after that that he was hurrying to get inside of you, shirts and shorts discarded as he pulled you on top of him. When you sank down onto him, he’d sighed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips. With your hands on his stomach, you’d lifted yourself until the tip of his cock just barely remained inside of you before sliding back down.

You gently bounced on top of him, hyper aware of who was just in the other room. You could tell that Topper wasn’t a huge fan, feeling that you had to pick one between being on top and being gentle, but it couldn’t be both. When his hands slid up your frame, they rested on the sides of your neck before pulling you down. Your eyes fell closed when you kissed him, and you gasped into his mouth when he lifted his hips, driving himself up into you.

You mentally cursed, realizing you’d been tricked.

With his hands quickly sliding down to snake around your waist, Topper wasted no time in lifting his hips to push his cock up into you. The force of his thrusts had you squeezing him in more ways than one, lips parted and eyes tight as he roughly fucked himself up into you. His bed shook under his movements, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining into his mouth, the sound of him sinking into you reaching your ears.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hummed, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

When his bed knocked into the wall, he halted his movements, using the moment to both catch his breath and listen. Your own heart stuttered, digging your nails into his chest because you’d literally told Topper so. Once Rafe was knocked out, it was usually pretty hard to wake him up, but it would be just your luck that this night of all nights he’d be a light sleeper.

You really didn’t want to imagine the chaos if he left your room in search of you only to find his best friend balls deep inside of you.

When no worrying sounds reached your ears, Topper took that as a sign to continue, knees bent as he thrust up into you again. You could tell he was close by the way his cock twitched inside of you, and something nagged in the back of your mind about that. When you attempted to pull yourself off of him, he held you tighter.

“Topper,” you gasped, a warning in your tone. “Don’t-.”

Your words were abruptly swallowed when he rolled you both, pinning you beneath him and jerking his hips into yours. The rough and fast pace had you momentarily forgetting your train of thought, weakly pushing against his stomach. You both knew why you didn’t want him to finish inside of you, but he didn’t seem to care about Rafe possibly sinking into you in the early hours of the morning with his best friend’s cum dried along your folds.

You yelped when you came, a roaring sound in your ears as you felt him do the same, filling you up with a grunt. His hips didn’t stop snapping against yours the entire time, fucking you through it and fucking his cum into you. He had you completely caged beneath him, and all you could do was quietly milk his cock, toes curling as you scratched at his back.

When clarity finally hit, the fog lifting, you roughly pushed him away. You didn’t miss his quiet chuckle, and you didn’t spare him a glance as you reached for your oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, pulling it over your head and slapping his hand away when he reached down to slide his fingers between your sticky folds.

You didn’t spare Topper another glance before hurrying out of his room.

You kept your eyes on Rafe as he flew down the road, the loud music making his truck almost vibrate. He was ignoring you, preoccupied with his conversation with Kelce who was in the passenger seat. It was funny because the only one with a right to be mad was you, recalling the fight you’d had on the beach not even an hour ago.

“She was all over you, and you just stood there and let it happen,” you’d yelled at him, feeling humiliated for the umpteenth time.

“I barely remember what that girl even looks like,” was his reply, pupils blown. “It was nothing, baby.”

You had slapped his hand away when he reached for you, unmoved by the way his countenance darkened. The sounds of the party just down the beach only served to remind you how you felt when you walked up on him with his hand on some girl’s waist, her lips trailing kisses along his neck. You could tell she was drunk, and instead of pushing her away, Rafe just entertained it.

Your eyes had only met for half a second before you were turning away.

You didn’t even know why he chased you down the beach, and that was what you’d told him.

“You’re not sorry…you don’t feel bad, and you know what? You’ll probably do worse two weeks from now, so why are you even here?”

You’d shrugged at him, certain your confusion was evident on your face.

“Look, it was nothing,” he’d spat at you. “Once again, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

That had actually made you laugh, tears kissing your eyes.

“If you caught me cozying up to any guy with half the effort that she was with you…you would lose your shit, and you know it,” you’d sneered, watching his jaw tick. “I would love to see the look on your face if I fucked someone else.”

He’d gotten in your face, his finger almost touching your eye.

“I was barely touching her-.”

“That wasn’t the case three months ago,” you threw in his face. “…and I can only imagine what I don’t know about.”

Rafe’s nostrils had flared, and for a split second, you swore you saw some shame pass through his blue gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came though, anger replacing it instead.

“You wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” he bit out, invading your personal space. “I said I was sorry, and you said you forgave me, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go fuck some asshole who clearly doesn’t value his life.”

His words had only made you angrier, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your face even, recalling the feel of Topper’s cock inside of you just thirty minutes before Rafe came to pick you both up. You and your boyfriend had stared each other down for a few moments more before he spoke again.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he finally said, shrugging. “I would love to see you try when you can’t even stick to staying broken up with me.”

His words had the desired effect, and you’d felt your face fall.

“Now, you’re trying to convince me you’d ever have the nerve to cheat on me?” he’d wondered, fingers grazing his own chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He’d left you with a scoff, and you hadn’t been able to stop your tears from spilling over. All you’d ever tried to do was routinely look for and believe in the best in Rafe, and you couldn’t believe that he threw that in your face like some insult. Maybe it was an insult though…because how many times were you going to let him show you exactly who he was? How many times were you going to let him play in your face?

The day after you’d confronted him about sleeping with some girl—only privy to the information because of none other than Topper—you’d cried yourself to sleep. It was always little things before that, but that incident was what broke you, allowing Topper to slip into your room and wrap his arms around you. It was reminiscent of a time where he used to sneak into your room almost every night, your parents none the wiser to what went on underneath their roof. You’d been eighteen then, Topper twenty, and you both mutually agreed to putting a stop to it.

However, that night, his mind had clearly gone to the same place yours had.

When he kissed you, you’d pulled him closer, and two years after you ended your forbidden dalliance, you resumed it again. For a few hours, you’d forgotten all about Rafe and what he did and just basked in the feel of Topper pushing his cock into you, embarrassingly turned on because of how much you’d missed him. You hadn’t paid any mind to the countless phone calls and texts that were blowing up your phone, no one else but Rafe and his vain attempts to fix what he did.

The day you forgave him, you knew you were making a huge mistake.

Rafe throwing the grace you’d shown him in your face had you stomping to his truck. You’d ignored the feel of eyes on you, knowing it wasn’t Rafe, opting to slide in the backseat without acknowledging him. Kelce—ever the standup guy—just pretended not to notice the tension between you and his friend as he slid into the passenger seat. The moment Rafe’s truck was on the road—music blaring through the vehicle—you’d grabbed Topper’s hand.

He didn’t protest at all when you dragged it across your thigh, pushing his fingers between your legs.

…and that was how you found yourself watching Rafe, keeping your eyes on him not because you actually wanted to, but because you didn’t need him looking over his shoulder. Even if he did, it was dark, but still, you weren’t exactly emotionless as Topper slid his fingers in and out of you. Your lips were parted, and your chest was heaving, and even though all that could really be heard was whatever rap song Rafe put on, you were still pulling your lip between your teeth.

You reached out to grip the door handle when Topper added another finger, his hand soaked in you, and you reached down to place your own hand on top of his. You spread your legs a little more, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your hips a bit. You were thankful for the music, certain that if the truck were quieter, they’d be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing between your folds.

He pulled them in and out of you for the duration of the ride, just slowly stroking you and teasing you. Every time you started to tighten around his fingers, he’d stop, just letting them sit there long enough for you to come down from a high that quite never happened. Like clockwork, he’d start moving his fingers again, and he only fully pulled them out of you—underwear snapping back into place—when Rafe pulled into his driveway.

He'd sucked them clean by the time Rafe and Kelce opened their doors, and when your boyfriend saw that neither of you were moving, he paused. You crossed your arms over your chest when he glanced at you, throwing him a frown.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute,” Topper told him, and Rafe only scoffed.

“Please do,” he mockingly said, tone full of arrogance as he wrongly assumed what the conversation would be about. “…because I didn’t do shit, and I’m tired of your sister blowing things out of proportion.”

That last part was aimed at you, and you only coolly met your boyfriend’s gaze before he slammed the door shut.

“He’s such an asshole,” you mumbled, staring at his back as he walked away. “I’m breaking up with him. For good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Topper’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, we both know how much you’ll hate having me all to yourself again.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you turned towards him, reaching to slip your hand down his pants the moment Rafe was inside of his house. Wrapping your fingers around Topper’s cock, you slowly stroked him, uncaring as to how risky that was. You were just angrier than you ever were at the realization that Rafe didn’t appreciate how gracious you’d been, and how many other girls would’ve dumped him months ago for everything he’d pulled. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe respected you less for it.

That realization didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would…because you’d long stopped respecting him in return.

You moved to settle in Topper’s lap, facing away from him as he lifted his hips enough to only just pull his pants down. One hand was pulling at your panties, yanking them aside just in time for you to sink down onto his cock. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he filled you up, throbbing inside of your heat. It was almost too easy, courtesy of his fingers and how wet he’d made you.

You lifted yourself slightly, moving over him and hanging onto the headrest of the driver’s seat while Topper lifted his hips too. His grunts and labored pants were a little loud, but that was only because you were alone. Rafe nor Kelce was going to hear anything from all the way out here in a closed vehicle. You clung to the seat harder as you thought about Rafe’s haughty tone and that challenging look in his blue eyes, so certain that you’d never do to him what he did to you.

So certain that you’d never have the guts.

Speaking of, it felt like you could feel Topper deep in your stomach as you rode him. His hands were tight on your waist as he bounced you on top of him, cheeks grazing his thighs with every movement. One of those hands slid around you, reaching under your dress and resting on you, fingers rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet truck. “Just like that.”

You knew that this couldn’t take long—and Topper knew it too—and feeling you come around him always sent him over the edge, so your eyes rolled when he started circling and dragging his fingers across your clit. He lightly pinched it, making you jerk, and the fact that you were fucking him in Rafe’s own backseat had you coming hard.

The broken moans that tumbled out of your mouth should have embarrassed you, but you were too concerned with sliding yourself up and down his cock, squeezing him tight and making him come too. Topper wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you back against him as you came together. Knowing that you’d stayed out here long enough, he was gently pushing you off of him the second he started to soften.

You could feel him dripping out of you, and you hurried to put your underwear back in place.

“Did you talk some sense into her?” was the first thing Rafe greeted you with the moment you both made it back inside.

You ignored him, hearing the tone of Topper’s voice as he said Rafe’s name. You knew that it would just be another useless talk of him almost begging Rafe to do better. The older blond never listened to his friend though, and you knew it didn’t twist Topper up too much, always happy to make you feel better when your boyfriend fucked up.

He took advantage of it every time.

Like now, for example.

Your hands clung to the railing of the back porch, head bowed as Topper drove into you from behind. Rafe was asleep in his own room—Kelce asleep in a guest room—and you couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again, sneaking into his designated guest room and begging him to fuck you. He was never one to protest, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you against him while murmuring something along the lines of ‘not in here’.

There were too many people in the Cameron household for him to touch you on the same floor as everyone else.

You kept pushing yourself to your tippy toes, thighs squeezing together with every slow stroke of his cock. Rafe’s t-shirt was pushed up your back, and the light slap of skin against skin reached your ears as well as the wet sound every time he slid between your folds. When he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm curled around your waist.

“You love this,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You love fucking me right under his nose…especially when he really pisses you off.”

If you’d tried to deny it, the way you tightened around him would’ve exposed the truth anyway. You did. Rafe underestimated you, and you loved proving him wrong, especially with his best friend of all people. You moaned, pushing back against him at that. Topper only chuckled, twisting a hand at your roots and pushing you back down over the railing again.

After coming around him twice, the insides of your thighs were embarrassingly sticky, and when Topper eventually stilled against you, pumping you full of his cum, that only made your predicament worse. When he pulled out of you, you reached down to wipe away some of the mess, fighting to catch your breath and reminding yourself that you’d have to make a stop to the bathroom before rejoining Rafe.

Topper was silent the entire ride home, and unlike with Rafe, you had no one but yourself to blame in this situation. Whenever you happened to glance over, you’d catch sight of his clenched jaw, cold blue eyes—so much like Rafe’s—focused on the road. His knuckles were white from the strain of his skin pulled taut over them, a death grip on the wheel of his jeep.

You didn’t speak because there wasn’t much you could say.

So fed up with Rafe’s blatant disrespect—and the pitying looks the odd girl threw you at the party as he danced with some stranger—you hadn’t thought of who else you’d be hurting when you grabbed the nearest guy and pressed your lips to his. You were so far gone with the alcohol, and the satisfaction you’d felt only drove you to close your eyes at the feel of his lips moving against yours.

It had also caused you to momentarily forget about your boyfriend, a misstep that was quickly remedied when you found yourself covered in alcohol.

Several of his friends—Kelce included—had been struggling to hold Rafe back as he tried to make his way to you. His angry shouts could be heard over the music, and you suspected that the bloodthirsty glint in his blue eyes was what drove your poor unsuspecting victim to slip away. Watching him get further out of reach only drove Rafe crazy…until his angry gaze landed on you, as if just remembering your presence.

He was screaming at you, calling you every name in the book, and you’d taken a step back as his friends struggled to keep him from getting to you. Only one stood off to the side, and when you remembered Topper’s presence, you hadn’t been able to keep the sheepish look off of your face. Adopting the older brother role, he’d quickly stomped towards you, yanking your arm as he pulled you along and away from your enraged boyfriend.

“I think its time you call it a night,” he’d evenly said.

That was the last thing he’d said to you, holding you as you stumbled to his car.

When his phone rang again, cutting through the silence in the vehicle, he finally answered it.

“Rafe, she’s drunk,” Topper told him the minute he picked it up. “…and you can’t act like you didn’t have this coming a little.”

You shifted in your seat, thinking to yourself that you’d gotten back at Rafe many times over. You didn’t hear what your boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend—said on the other line, but it was loud, and you could pick up on his tone. Topper chuckled to himself, and if you hadn’t been looking at his face, you might’ve thought it was genuine. His frustration with both Rafe and you—mostly you at the moment—was all over his face.

“There’s a whole list of shit you’ve done while drunk or high. You can talk to her tomorrow,” he told his best friend, meeting your gaze. “I’m handling it, so if you come over, I’m telling you now I’m not answering the door.”

You looked out the window at that, swallowing at the venom in both his voice and his gaze.

Your parents weren’t home, out of town for the weekend, and you were never more grateful, certain you’d never been this drunk in your life. Topper was still ignoring you as he helped you inside, and when you stumbled away from him, leaning against the table by the entrance, you gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Before you could do it, he was dropping to his knees, angrily taking off your shoes. You flinched at the way he threw them across the room, slowly rising and staring you down. The house was quiet—too quiet for comfort—and you licked your lips.

“Topper-.”

“It’s already bad enough seeing you kiss him and be with him and fuck him,” he spat at you, pointing outside. “Even worse when he treats you like shit, and you just won’t leave.”

You frowned at him, tears kissing your eyes.

“I’m…sorry for just hoping he’ll do better…”

“He won’t!”

Topper’s voice bounced off of the walls, and you shrunk away from him as he got in your face.

“How many times does he have to show you that? Why do you still expect better from him, so much so to the point where you’re kissing random guys, now?” he wondered, rearing back away from you with a frown. “Yeah, you wanted to make Rafe angry, but we both know the truth.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together when Topper stepped closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he exhaled through his nose, the atmosphere tense.

“Rafe’s mad because you dared to play his own game,” he slowly whispered. “I love you, and we both know it’s me you’re really with, not him, and I’m fucking pissed.”

You swallowed with one look into his eyes, finally finding the strength to face him, and your heart skipped a beat at what you saw there.

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, fingers digging into your arms. The sequence of events happened too fast for your drunk brain to catch up with, only gasping when he reached down to press his hand into the small of your back, yanking you closer. If it wasn’t for him holding you, you would’ve tripped over your own feet as he forced you into the living room.

Topper’s teeth nipped at your throat while he pulled at your dress, something Rafe had bought.

“I fucking hate this dress,” he quietly confessed as if reading your mind.

The sound of tearing fabric reached your ears as he forced you to bend back, his arm around you keeping you from collapsing. He kept you against him as he laid you down on the floor, in a hurry to get you at least half naked. His other hand reached behind his head to yank off his shirt, and you only had the sense to hold onto his arms while he kissed along your chest. When his pants were pushed down just enough, he pushed into you with a grunt.

You scratched at his skin at the rough entry, but it took no time for each thrust to become as smooth as they always were whenever he got his hands on you. One of your hands clawed at the rug, and you moaned—loud—when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. You suspected that Top had done a line or two tonight, gasping at his uncharacteristically tight grip.

He was fucking you so good that you almost missed the sound of a vehicle in the yard. When you did, your eyes flew open, and you attempted to look around towards the window. You guys were too close to the couch to see over it, and when you whined, pushing against him, Topper only grabbed your hands and pinned them down beside your head.

“Topper, I think…”

You couldn’t get it out, groaning as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck him,” he breathed, pounding into you.

The harsh knocks on the door didn’t faze him, and Topper only let one of your hands go to reach down and reach under your thigh. He rested that leg over his shoulder, pushing it towards you as his nose brushed yours, lips parted as he thrust into you. You were dripping around him, teeth sinking into your lip as Rafe knocked on the door again, trying the locked handle. Somewhere, you could hear your phone vibrating…and then Topper’s after a while.

The man on top of you didn’t care, stretching you out, pushing his cock into your tight hole.

“Break up with him, or don’t,” he whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose. “…but what you pulled tonight is not happening again.”

You drunkenly nodded at him, mewling as he slowed down his thrusts, the sucking sound of his cock plunging into you reaching your ears. You heard your phone vibrate again.

“You know where to find me when he pisses you off.”

BOOTS / TIM BRADFORD & LUCY CHEN

PAIRINGS: Dark!Tim Bradford & Dark!Lucy Chen x Fem!Rookie!Reader

SUMMARY: You never noticed just how dedicated your two best friends were to keeping you safe, and theirs.

WARNINGS: Overprotectiveness, fighting/violence jealousy, flirting, forced relationship, suggestive behaviour (makeouts, sub r, dom!Tim & soft dom!Lucy, fingering, handcuffs, p in v, threeway)

WORD COUNT: 5.2K Words

A/N: Dark!Chenford is a must have 🤭I had to turn to my roots for some smut cause who wouldn’t want to be in between these two?? I may have gotten carried away at 5k words 😭 (for the sake of this pretend pto’s can have two rookies) NOT PROOFREAD special order for my girl @lady-ashfade

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

They always had your back, which you found comfort in.

Whether it be standing up for you, or tearing in a new one to the woman who got your order wrong after you’d already given a smile and taken what was served. (It may or may not have been Tim yelling whilst Lucy fiddled with her nails.)

You were so close to them, since your day one on the job Lucy had been nothing but a sweetheart. Fixing your hair for you, ordering your food for you or just giving you a smile when your day was particularly gruelling. She, along with Nolan and West were your best friends. But Lucy went above and beyond when it came to you, even if you didn’t notice at times.

And Tim, was a special case. Of course at first all Rookies got the roughest side of him. But overtime Tim noticed the little things about you. And at first he figured it was you trying your hardest to kiss up to your T.O and everyone else. But he soon came to realise that you were naturally this nice. Always helping anyone where you could when they asked, even with out ask at times.

But that was the problem.

Tim found you to be in need of him, someone to properly guide you rather than your idiot of a T.O who couldn’t care less about you. You were nice, too nice for your own good. He could help in that department.

You entered the break room in the mood for about a million cups of coffee. As you reached for a cup another Rookie cut in front of you before grabbing the pot. You took a step back allowing him to fill his cup up, he was probably tired and lacking manners, so you let him continue. But if there was one person who wouldn’t?

“Hey, you cut in front of her. Pass your cup over to her and move to the back of the line.” Tim startled the Rookie in question so much that he spilled it all over himself. He’d been here for about two days in a trial week. Lucy had a feeling he wouldn’t be here much longer.

You, being you, jumped straight in to help the ass, “Here’s a napkin, you should go change. Maybe take a shower and see a doctor if there are any burns okay?” He nodded before rushing out the door, but not before shoving a cup into your hands.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened, you put the cup down, ready to reprimand the two but when you turned around you realised you couldn’t exactly reprimand two officers above you.

“Thanks for standing up for me but—,”

“No problem sweetheart, how’s your paperwork going?” Tim asked as he poured a cup for himself and his girlfriend. You always noticed him doing stuff like that for her so she didn’t have to, as if it was second nature for him. But he also did the same for you, not that you noticed. “Uhm… it’s going well.” You tried to continue on but the two of them interrupted you every time.

You sighed in defeat as you stirred in sugar, Tim and Lucy sat on either side of you, personal space be damned. You hadn’t realised how often Tim and Lucy used nicknames with you, or sat close to you, or defended you.

Was this normal?

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Lucy smiled at you as your cheeks flushed, “I— uhm,” You heard Tim’s laughter from your right, “You’ve got her blushing Chen.” Your head snapped his way before shaking your head, “No! It’s just, warm.” You fiddled with the cuff of your long sleeve as Tim and Lucy admired.

You were so adorable, always with a smile on your face. You could never handle it when they flirted with you, and they took every chance they could get to see you go red. They loved to do it, and they did it so often that you’d basically become accustomed to it. That didn’t mean it was easier to handle with two gorgeous people, especially when they’re older and in charge.

Tim loved talking to you. Just hearing your voice was enough to bring a rare smile to his face. When you were truly impassioned in a topic he could tell, so could she. You’d sit up straighter in your seat, your hand movements increased and so did your eye contact.

But with him and Lucy? You never could keep eye contact. Again, adorable aren’t you?

But what Lucy hated was when you were interrupted. It’d been a few minutes of you talking at them about a call of yours from the day before, in which your T.O had made you answer a call on your own whilst on the phone with his wife. You never noticed, but Lucy’s firsts curled up, and Tim’s hand rested on his gun.

The anger that surged through their bodies at your T.O’s irresponsible behaviour was unmatched. How dare he send someone so fragile on their own? Did he understand how special you were?

Tim’s hand moved from his gun to his radio as you continued. You’d ended up in an altercation with two armed suspects, but you’d managed to subdue them both by bursting a nearby pipe which then sprayed the pair. By the time you had both cuffed to a dumpster your T.O, Jim, waltzed in and smiled.

“And then he just, smiled. He told me he was surprised I could get the job done and that maybe I did deserve my short sleeves. It seemed so targeted and sexist. As if he couldn’t believe that a woman could handle herself. But he apologised later.” Tims brow rose as Lucy titled her head, “He apologised to you?”

Your head turned to Lucy as you crinkled your nose, “Well, not outright. But he did pay for our lunch and ordered me extra. He let me drive too. That’s his way of saying thanks.” Someone was going to have to hold Tim back from beating the life out of this dickhead.

First, he leaves you alone against two armed suspects to see what’s for dinner, then, after you did an amazing job on your own, he underestimates you.

With the worst timing in the world, in walks Jim, “Ah there you are boot. Finished the work have you? Good girl.” You and Lucy visibly cringed at his words as Tim had had enough, “The hell did you just call her?” Your T.O frowned as Tim stood in front of him menacingly, hand on his holster.

“None of your business, she’s my boot.” Jim turned back to his coffee as Tim inhaled, “Leave the room you two.” Jim scoffed as you both got up, “Yes, let the men speak huh?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she guided you out, she and Tim shared a moment and a look that screamed ‘Fuck him up.’ Jim smiled before reaching for the creamer, but it was snatched up by Tim.

“You think you’re funny? Being a sexist dick to your Rookie?” Tim prayed that Jim would try something, anything. As long as it allowed him to beat him into the floor. “Again Timmy, she’s my rookie. That’s the whole point of us Trainers, to toughen them up. You don’t question my methods and I won’t yours. Pretty little thing like that’s probably glided through here.” Tim grabbed him by the shoulder before pushing him against the wall.

“Testy are we? You and Chen have a thing for her?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And I’ll question whatever I want, when I want. And don’t talk about them like that.” The mention of you and Lucy was more than enough to set him off, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself.

Lucy ushered you into her Tim’s shop as you kept asking her questions, “Why am I in here?” Lucy sighed as she rested her hands on her belt, “I don’t exactly think you’ll be riding with him today. Best if you ride with us, I’ll go alert Grey to whats happening, just stay safe in here.” And just like that, she was leaving for the door.

“Messing with me is one thing, with her? Bad idea.” Tim shoved him against the wall again before whispering into his ear.

Tim, Lucy, you and Jim all stood in Grey’s office.

He stood with his hands on his belt, trying to process what he’d been told. “Sergeant, Officer Bradford attacked me in the break room when all I did was simply address my rookie.” Tim and Lucy’s faces simultaneously contorted in disgust at his accentuation on ‘my’.

“Save it Jim. I heard what actually happened through Officer Bradfords radio. Officer Bradford, you’re not yet excused for inciting violence with a fellow officer. Your overtime is cancelled for over a month, you’ll be having a reprimand as well as a month of anger management training courtesy of the department. The rest of your punishment will be applied later. Officer Chen, Officer L/N, you may both go.”

Lucy and you smiled and acknowledged him before glancing at Tim, ‘I’ll be fine.’ he mouthed at the two of you. The door closed behind you as you looked back into the office to see Greys hands waving around. He was pissed and so was Tim. He had to stand next to this guy.

“Hey are you okay Y/n/n?” The two of you were currently filling out paperwork together to kill time whilst you waited for Tim, you glanced back up at her with a smile, “Yeah I’m fine, just glad Bradford stood up for me. But I feel bad now, he’s in there with Grey whilst I’m here.” Lucy’s hand covered yours as she offered her comfort.

“Baby none of this is your fault, Jim is a moron and stuck in the 70’s. You’re an amazing cop and you’ll be even better as the years pass and you learn. But you’ll learn a lot more from another T.O than him. And T— Officer Bradford,” she corrected herself, “He stuck up for you because you don’t deserve to be disrespected like that. No one will ever say those things, we promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, never having someone who cared about you so much that they’d hurt someone else.

Hypothetically of course. Right?

Tim came back grumpy, which wasn’t a new thing. But he couldn’t help but feel something at the view he has. You and Lucy, shoulder to shoulder, giggling away. At his desk nonetheless. You really were meant for them.

“Alright, you’re sticking with us for the next few weeks L/N. Until you’re reassigned to a new T.O.” Tim stood in front of you as you glanced to him, “What’s happening to Jim?” Tim scoffed as he turned to the side before shaking his head and staring at his shoes, “What he deserves. He’s out of here, don’t worry about him. Not while we’re here.” Lucy nodded in agreement as she picked up your paperwork and hers, “We’re done here.”

“Good, get to our gear, boots.”

And for the next few weeks you found yourself closer to Lucy and Tim than ever. In the physical sense being you and them in the same car for every shift. In the mental and emotional sense of having more time together, on calls together, eating together at times and clocking out together. Usually to go to one of their apartments to wind down and have dinner. So close to them to the point where you found yourself in the middle of them.

The tension was thick, whenever you three were alone.

Lucy and Tim were undeniably hot, and you knew that. And so did they. The two of them were absolute menaces when it came to teasing you. Whether it be Tim or Lucy, both or alone. They wanted you all for themselves, and they will have you.

You prided yourself on making a mean cup of coffee.

Before joining the force, coffee was a once in a whole situation but since? It’s your saving grace and addiction. Your body would probably stop functioning without. Another thing you couldn’t survive without would be music. It’s why you stood in the breakroom with your airpods in.

“Boo.” You jumped at the whisper in your ear only to bump right into your new T.O. “Tim!” You jolted as he laughed at your reaction, “You should be more aware of your surroundings L/N.” Taking a napkin you quickly cleaned the mess on the table before putting a lid on your coffee. “Sorry Sir, I’ll pay more attention.”

His lips involuntarily twitched at the notion of you calling him ‘sir’. It was usually Officer Bradford or when you were pissed off, Bradford. Not much of a change but for you it was the equivalent of flipping him the bird. Tim found it cute.

“You’re good.” He spoke before leaning behind you to grab a cup of his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his broad chest pressed against your back. As he poured his cup, he glanced at you, “You okay there Boot?” Your eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at him. “Fine, I’ll be in the— somewhere.”

He leaned against the table as you shuffled out of the room as quick as possible. God you were cute.

Lucy leaned against the doorway with a smile, “You’re gonna have her malfunctioning at this point Bradford.” Tim grinned as she approached him, taking a sip of his coffee, “Then maybe we can fix her Chen.” He whispered before taking a sip of his own.

“And how would we do that?”

“Might need to lay her down, undress—,”

“Tim!” Lucy yelped as she covered his mouth as a muffled “What?” came out. “You can’t stay stuff like that here!” He rolled his eyes before peeling the palm of her hand away from his mouth. “Did you not talk for about twenty minutes about how badly you wanted to kiss—,” For the second time Lucy shut him up.

“Shh!”

It had been a long shift for all three of you.

You’d barely gotten time to catch your breath with how many calls were coming through. There was a concert on in town and apparently that resulted in all hell breaking loose. Merch trucks had been highjacked, fake tickets and scams everywhere resulting in fights.

Tim didn’t personally understand the reason for all the chaos, “It’s like your favourite team coming to play in L.A and there are also a bunch of fake fans wanting to go. Along with scammers waiting to make money. People go crazy over the things they love Tim.”

He knew that, he had you.

“Yeah but actual sports? That I understand. Some singer who’s going to walk around a stage? Boring.” You and Lucy rolled your eyes as you gave up on explaining it to him. You were currently out at dinner for once, suggested by Lucy.

“I like it better when we stay home.” Tim muttered as he surveyed the restaurants terrace. There were currently three other couples surrounding them. “Me too honestly.” Lucy was surprised by your agreement as Tim was overjoyed, “See? Two against one.” Lucy shrugged before returning to the drinks menu, “We need to get out once in a while.”

We. Not you and I, we. It was those word choices that made you wonder, did they consider you apart of their relationship?

Lucy’s hand rested over Tim’s as the waiter approached, “My names Jack and I’ll be serving you tonight. What will you be having miss?” He waited for you whilst you sorted through the menu, “I’m going to go very simple, can I get the chicken fettuccine and garlic bread?”

He quickly jotted your order down with a smile, “Great choice.” You smiled at the praise, “Thanks Jack.” His smile was wide and sweet as his gaze lingered, a sharp cough caused the two of you to break away.

Tim’s hold on the menu was tight, shaping crescent indents into the leather exterior as he watched the waiter, Jake was it? Who cares, he should stop eyeing you up and do his job. But why were you responding to him? Keeping eye contact and laughing.

His cough caused you to finally stop ogling him as Tim barked his order at him, whilst Lucy hid her laugh behind the menu. She hated how this random guy thought he could come up to her girl and charm her. Maybe if she showed her gun off he would—

“And drinks?” Tim scanned over the variety of wines as you got up, “I’m going to head to the restroom.” Tim and Lucy nodded as you placed your purse on the table, “Uhh, where is it?” Jack smiled, “I’ll take you there.” He tucked the menus under his arm, “Lead the way!”

Lucy’s hold on Tim’s hand was deadly as the two of them stared daggers into Jacks head. Who did this guy think he was? “Why the hell is she still taking to him? What happened to the restroom?” Lucy complained as Tim straightened in his chair. “I don’t know, but we have to let her know it’s not allowed.”

And that came in the form of coming back to the table to find your food packaged for take away.

You crossed your arms as you stopped in front of your chair, “First of all, I love those bathrooms. Second, how the hell is the food here so quickly? And third, why is it for takeaway?” Tim abruptly stood as his chair slid back, bumping into the railing, his hand in Lucy’s whilst she grabbed the bag.

“We’re leaving, now.” His voice was stern and Lucy’s face seemed to be void of the smile from moments ago. “Wait what?” Tim’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you into the elevator.

“Why are we leaving? Also, I can walk myself, no offence.” His grip on you only tightened as you winced, you quickly contracted your wrist from his hand. Soothing it by running your hands over it, the pain was low but the mark sure as hell would show soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eyebrows furrowed slightly, you pulled your lips into a line, “Nothing Lucy. What’re you two doing? Are you okay?”

“Do you find it fun? Flirting in front of us?” Tim sounded genuinely angry, which was never a good sign. The elevator opened as you followed the two of them, eventually ending up with one behind and in front. Tim silently opened the back door for you, climbing in to turn towards him you were met with a slamming door.

Flirting? They were angry because you flirted? Do they expect you to never talk to anyone that wasn’t them? Yes the waiter was cute, but you only talked him about the Marvel Captain America necklace he had on. If they were angry, then did this mean you were in a relationship?

You turned to view the two of them behind the car, they were plotting intently. As Tim’s hands drew her closer in, and his lips landed on hers you couldn’t help but watch and have no idea who you wanted to be in the scenario. When Tim’s eyes flicked up, you turned to the front of the car. This was going to be an awkward ride home.

You were right, the ride home was dead silent.

Tim’s hand was interlaced with Lucy’s, right infront of you and you couldn’t help but feel as if they were rubbing their relationship in your face. So instead of sitting in the middle as per usual, you shifted over to the window. At least the night was nice.

Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she noticed your jealousy. Tim was right, this showed just how much you wanted to be with them. When they kissed you couldn’t look away until looked at, and their holding hands pissed you off to the point where you switched seats. When you were with them, you were always in the middle.

When you reached Tim’s place you were the first to get out of the car, not bothering to wait for the couple. “You think we went too far?” Lucy asked Tim, as much as she loved riling you up, she felt sad by your annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold you.

Tim on the other hand, was pissed off beyond relief. He had to refrain from beating the shit out of the waiter and kissing you at the restaurant. But he figured, your first time should be special.

“No, we haven’t. She needs to learn.”

As you entered his apartment you couldn’t deny the fact that it did indeed feel like home. You shook your heels off in the doorway, as Lucy and Tim removed their shoes. They’d told you to dress nicely but they were both dressed normally. You being in a dress felt out of place when they weren’t done up like you were for the night.

Tim’s bed was practically calling your name, “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was stern and unwavering. You internally groaned, what the hell had you done wrong? “To bed, what else Tim?” You rolled your eyes, bad idea.

He pushed you against the wall, towering over you. “You think you’re funny?” He was overwhelming, his cologne lingered and Lucy watched on amused. Was she rubbing her legs—

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Answer the question.” His hands were placed on either side of your head, “No, I don’t think I’m funny. I’m sorry.” Tim narrowed his eyes as you squirmed under his gaze, “Sorry for what baby?” You stared down at your feet before he grabbed your chin, “For flirting.”

“So you know what you did wrong?” You nodded meekly at Lucy’s question. “You know, a Rookie has to be taught lessons right?” You nodded again, “And whose Rookie are you?” The bottom of your dress was smooth between your fingertips as you nervously fidgeted.

“Yours.”

“I’m sorry but you have to be taught baby.” His hand slowly moved up your thigh, and under your dress. Tim never looked away from you, even as his hand grazed over your panties. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped past the elastic band, “Tim!” You moaned out as you held onto his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? Use your words baby.” Lucy spoke as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. She moved your hair away, allowing herself free roam of your neck as she surged forwards. “Please.”

“Let’s take you to the bed huh?” You nodded vehemently at Tim’s suggestion as he picked you up bridal style. He laid you down on the bed as you shuffled back. Tim and Lucy stood side by side, the grins never leaving their faces. “What do you think Lucy? How’d you feel when Y/n was talking to Jack?”

At the mention of his name your heart began to race, you were nervous, why were they talking about him?

“Angry, and jealous. You?”

Tim nodded, “I did too. I think we should teach you a lesson. And if you’re good then, maybe, we’ll let you go.” You swallowed air before nodding. “Words baby.” Lucy’s voice was soft as she came to sit behind you, laying your head in her lap. “Y-yes.”

“If you feel uncomfortable then say so.” She whispered into your ear as you nodded. “You’re so cute, you know that right?” You shook your head, “No, you’re just being sweet.” Lucy frowned at your low confidence, “You are. Okay? Never let anyone tell you any different. You’re so gorgeous, and kind and sweet. I love you.” Lucy smiled as your wide eyes looked up at her, full of love.

“I— I love you too.” She closed the distance between the two of you quickly, you’d been wanting to kiss her for so long. Her hands trailed along the neckline of your dress, cold hands brushing over your chest as you gasped, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

“Having fun without me?” Tim joked as Lucy withdrew, “Maybe, why? Jealous?” She teased as he shook his head, “That’s her job.” Tim alluded to you as you rolled your eyes, “Is not.” Lucy chuckled at your words.

“Keep rolling your eyes and I’ll give you a reason to.” Tim’s hands were on your thighs again, following the same route as last time and ending up in the same place. You turned your head, trying to bury your face into Lucy’s thighs as Tim removed your underwear. He trailed his hand up and down, collecting your slick.

“So wet, you know how long we’ve wanted to see this?” Tim’s lips met yours as he pushed a finger in, causing you to groan. “There we go, let it out for me.” You wrapped your arms around Tim’s neck, trying to pull him closer. Lucy’s hands slowly removed her own top, then her jeans.

You tugged at Tim’s shirt as he laughed, “Want me to take it off?” Your eager nod was more than enough for him to slide his finger out of you, but not before Lucy took it into her mouth.

You were going to explode. Lucy stared into Tim’s eyes as she detatached from his finger with a ‘pop’. Lucy worked on his belt buckle as Tim removed his shirt before chucking it behind him. “Take your dress off.” You did not need to be told twice.

As you lifted your dress you were met with helping hands, their eyes raked over you eagerly. Tim leaned in again, and as you closed your eyes you heard something.

Click!

Fucking handcuffs. “Wait— are you kidding me?” You tugged at the handcuffs as Tim spoke, “You didn’t think we forgot did you?” You rolled your eyes, “I was being good.” You muttered. Tim was not a fan.

He smushed your face in his hands, “You’re being a brat, now sit and watch.” Tim kissed Lucy’s neck as she raked her hands through his hair, “Oh god.” He made his way down to her chest as she laid down onto the bed. Tim unhooked her bra as he took one of her tits into his mouth. You wanted nothing more than to touch.

But you were forced to sit and listen.

Even as he pounded into her and you writhed against the cuffs. “You feel so good.” Tim groaned, his fingertips were digging into her hips as she clutched onto the sheets. “Fuck Lucy.” He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to moan out.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together for the smallest ounce of relief. But Tim never made it easy for you. He slid out of her pussy, as she whined, “So close.” Tim stroked her cheek, “I know baby, I know.” He lifted her up easily with one arm, making her face you before laying her down. “Y/n’s gonna watch.” Lucy lifted her back from the bed as she felt herself peak.

“F-fuck Tim!” She shouted as Tim fastened his pace, “You feel so good.” He groaned before releasing into her. He slowly pulled out, letting Lucy catch her breath as she laid down on the pillows. “You okay?” He muttered as he kissed her cheek, she nodded. “Wanna see you and her.”

Your eyes glistened with excitement, “Please, take the cuffs off.” Tim was feeling nice, so he reached for the key and unlocked you. You first soothed your wrist before Tim dragged you by your ankles.

“Open your legs.” You slowly opened them for him. His hands immediately found your waist, mimicking circles along them. He never strayed too close, only trailing up and down, “Please Tim.”You wanted to cry. “Please what?” He responded calmly.

Tim loved seeing you like this, a whiny mess for him. The tears welled up in your eyes as you clenched them shut, allowing a few to fall down. “Use your words sweetie, just like I taught you.” You shook your head in embarrassment, you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt, dirty. His calm demeanour was gone in an instant as his finger slipped back into you, “Please touch me.”

Lucy couldn’t help to admire you, they finally had you.

“There we go.” He praised as he moved swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, you feel good?” Your high pitched moan was more than enough of an indication, “S-so good Tim.” As if his fingers weren’t enough, he pumped his cock a few times before teasing your hole.

You arched off the bed as soon as he pushed himself in, fat tip bullying its way into you whilst your nails dug into Lucy’s arm, “I got you baby.” She spoke as her hand came up to your breast, teasing it before bringing it into her mouth. “Oh fuck!” You screeched as you felt her tongue drag along your nipple.

Tim eased himself out, and back in as his hand trailed up to your neck, squeezing it as your hand held onto his wrist, “You like that huh?” You nodded in agreement, tears were flowing freely from the overstimulation. This was literally straight out of dream. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, feels good baby. You feel so good.” Lucy captured your lips as you groaned into her mouth.

The pressure was so intense, you kept writhing on the bed. “I-I’m so close Tim.” He took it as a personal mission to make you cum, grabbing one of your legs and angling it up, his hand in the crevice behind your leg. With the new angle he was able to meet new parts, your babbles were incoherent as he laughed, “Fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” He taunted you as he thrusted his cock in between your drenched folds.

Lucy’s hand trailed down, a sticky mess waiting in between her legs, seeing Tim manhandle you was more than enough. “Bet you dreamed of this, of me.” Tim continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls.“Yes! Yes! Harder!” you cried out.

“Baby found her words huh?”

You nodded as you steadied yourself by holding onto his biceps, Tim was nothing but fit. You’d always wanted to see him under the uniform, his large arms always looked incredible in short sleeves. Tim’s hand moved from your neck to your clit as he sent you over the edge, following closely. Your hand reached up to caress his neck. Thank yous spilled out from you.

You laid in the middle of Tim and Lucy, fast asleep as they watched on.

“She’s so sweet and peaceful when she’s sleeping.” Lucy cooed as she stroked your cheek lovingly, “She tired herself out, of course she’s gonna sleep well afterwards.” Tim’s hand was on your hip under the sheets, caressing the soft skin absentmindedly. “She did so well.”

“She did, knew she could take it.”

“So what are we?” Lucy waited for Tim’s response.

“Whatever we want to be.”

House of Balloons

Topper Thornton x Reader

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

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

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

⭑

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You threw him a look.

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

Topper only shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone could’ve seen that coming, and yet…

“What’s wrong with me?”

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

“Hey…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flinched at that, frown deepening.

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

…because they were true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bristled at his words.

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

“No guy is good enough for you.”

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

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

So…you didn’t know why you said it.

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

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

“Maybe I am…”

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

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

Topper was serious.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, because-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Topper-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Topper,” you gasped against his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, at least let me drive you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very much.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

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

“I can try…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed.

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

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

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

The blond nodded, swiping his tongue between his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you?

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

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

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

“We can’t do this,” you’d hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Topper…”

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

Teenage Dirtbag IX (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

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

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

~

The first thing you registered was the most painful pounding in your head.

You didn’t drink often, and when you did, it certainly was never to the degree that you did last night. Your throat felt scratchy, your mouth felt dry, and your eyes felt tight. However, you felt like that last one had nothing to do with the drinking. Bits and pieces from the previous night came back to you, and you remembered crying into JJ’s arms about Rafe.

At the thought of your boyfriend, something tugged at the back of your mind.

You were lying down on an unfamiliar surface, both the fabric beneath you and the smell of the room foreign. It smelled like a mix of weed and ocean water and burnt wood, making your nose twitch, and when you finally peeled your eyes open…you paused.

Kie was knocked out on the chair across from you.

You stared at her for a good while in confusion before it registered that Kie wasn’t asleep at your house because you weren’t at your house. Your lips parted as you slowly lifted your head, eyes roaming over the inside of a house you’d only been in twice. You were still at John B.’s, and there was that tugging in the back of your mind again, something important—yet still unknown—nagging at you.

Much more awake, now, the rest of the night came back to you.

You’d drunkenly confessed the true nature of your relationship to JJ—something you were still conflicted about—and he’d kissed you again. You didn’t know if it was the kiss or the full weight of your confession hitting you, but you remembered stumbling away. You remembered drinking some more, throwing them back at an alarming rate, and ignoring JJ’s concern as he discreetly tried to get you to stop.

You recalled throwing yourself into another drinking game with Sarah and her friends, something that resulted in your head in the toilet. Your attitude had been contagious, Sarah and Cleo and Kie sharing a similar fate. John B. and Pope were high, you weren’t trying to listen to a word JJ said, and you’d passed out on the couch.

You’d passed out on the couch.

You hurriedly sat up at that thought, eyes wide and stomach turning.

You’d briefly wondered what time it was, but it only now registered that light was bleeding in through the window, and it wasn’t the light of the moon. Within seconds your entire body felt overheated, and your heart felt like it was in your throat. Stumbling to your feet, you almost tripped over Sarah on the floor, the loud thud of your foot making her groan.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, frantically looking around for your phone.

You heard Sarah mumble something as you rushed around the room before pausing.

You’d left your phone at Kie’s to make Rafe think you were still over there. You pressed your hand to your mouth, feeling like you were going to be sick, head spinning. It was the next day, and you didn’t doubt that you probably had hundreds of missed calls from Rafe, knowing your boyfriend well enough to know he would only call so much before just getting in his truck.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled again, and by this point, Sarah was waking up.

“What?” she groaned. “What time is it?”

Your stomach wouldn’t stop jumping, and you frantically blinked back tears.

“I need to call Rafe,” you forced out, trying to not be sick.

Sarah wasn’t reacting fast enough for you, sighing and sitting up, blonde hair going every which way.

“What…?”

“I need to call Rafe!”

You hadn’t meant to sound so shrill, Kie making a noise of disapproval as she was forced to wake up. You didn’t even consider that you’d be waking up the whole house, quickly wiping your eyes. Sarah was fully lucid and awake now, hurriedly standing and worriedly eyeing you. She swallowed, pausing for half a second before looking around for her phone.

You only just noticed that JJ was sleeping on the floor closest to John B.’s room, the blond standing as Sarah spotted her phone on the table. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to slow your breathing, but nothing was working. The air felt too thick, and your head felt too spacey, and your fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.

“Y/N…”

You ignored JJ, snatching Sarah’s phone as she handed it to you.

“Hey, I’ll talk to Rafe,” she gently offered. “You just got drunk and passed out. He’ll…”

You didn’t hear the rest of Sarah’s words, quickly making your way outside to the porch. You heard her sigh, Kie’s voice just barely reaching your ears as she asked something. Your hand wouldn’t stop shaking as you held it to your mouth, the other pressing Sarah’s phone to your ear. Your back was pressed to the wall as you sat down, knees pulled up onto the bench. You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself again, but it was in vain.

…because Rafe answered on the first ring.

“Where the hell-?”

“Rafe…”

You softly cut him off, swallowing at the silence that met you. Any remnants of a hangover were long gone the moment you realized you’d slept at John B.’s. The fear of what waited for you when you went home had sobered you up, mind going a mile a minute as you wondered what you were thinking last night. Rafe was so quiet—you couldn’t even hear him breathing—and you felt a few tears escape.

“Rafe-.”

“Where are you?”

The question was simple enough, but you actually felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of the answer. You briefly closed your eyes, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“I’m with Sarah and Kie and-.”

“I didn’t ask you who you were with…” you sank in your seat. “I asked where you were.”

You pressed your fingers to your lips, staring out into John B.’s yard. Your gaze focused on his van as the door opened, Pope scratching his head as he stepped out, and you surmised that he and Cleo had slept in there. Your eyes passed over them and focused on the dock out near the water, memories of what you did out there last night plaguing your thoughts.

“I’m already pissed, so…don’t make it worse by having me repeat myself.”

You pressed your hand to your face, fighting back tears and so angry with yourself for screwing up so bad.

“I’m… I’m at John B.’s.”

The immediate disconnect made more tears escape, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard someone step outside onto the porch—joining you—and the silence told you exactly who it was. You didn’t acknowledge him, looking away, and you weren’t sure why. He’d already seen you at your worst last night, but last night was different.

Last night you were drunk and running from your problems by chasing a bottle. Today you were sober and ashamed and wholly afraid of what was going to happen. Someone finally knew, but yet you felt no relief. You didn’t know how to handle someone else knowing why you were so afraid and quiet, right now.

“Is he coming here?”

JJ’s voice was clipped, and you could only nod. Recalling that you had Sarah’s phone, you handed it to him, avoiding his gaze.

“Can you give that back to Sarah?” you sniffed. “…and tell her I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

He didn’t respond right away.

“Y/N…”

His tone had you shaking your head, looking back out into the yard as Pope and Cleo made their way to the house.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered.

You both greeted them as they went inside the house, and from the corner of your eye, you could see JJ lean in.

“Just let me take you back to Kie’s, and then you can wait for him at home.”

You let out a bitter laugh, nodding.

“He’s already on his way…”

That you knew for a fact.

“As bad as things already are, trust me that it’ll be much worse if he gets here, and I’m gone,” you told JJ, finally meeting his eye.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched as he stared at you. There was a huge elephant in the room between you, and for once, it wasn’t the kiss nor your complicated feelings for the blond before you. For two years, you’d been utterly alone in dealing with Rafe’s wrath, and you didn’t quite know how to feel at the worry bleeding into JJ’s gaze.

“You should go inside,” you quietly told him with a shrug. “I can’t imagine what would happen if he knew you guys were here too.”

JJ looked as if he didn’t want to listen to you, but eventually he did, and you were alone again with your thoughts. Even if you wanted to savor the memory of kissing JJ again, you couldn’t. The whole thing was tainted beyond belief, and if it weren’t for him periodically sleeping in your pool house, you would be sure that you’d never have the chance to see him again after today.

It was some time before you heard the familiar rumble of a truck, and you knew that Rafe had wasted no time and had probably run every stop sign just to get here. You glanced over when Sarah joined you on the porch, gaze apologetic as you stood.

“Let me talk to him,” she offered again. “What can he possibly say to a few girls having too much to drink and crashing?”

There was a silent agreement that Rafe couldn’t know about the guys’ involvement.

“You’d be surprised,” was all you said, sighing at Sarah’s pleading look. “That’s nice of you, Sarah, but I doubt it’ll make him feel any better.”

She merely ran her hand through her hair as Rafe’s truck came into view. The sight of it made your heart skip a beat, and the blonde teenager huffed.

“You know you deserve better, right?”

Her comment threw you, and unsure of how to respond, you only sent her a shaky smile.

“I’m serious,” she sneered, walking outside with you close behind. “He treats you like he doesn’t trust you, and instead of just going to therapy…”

Her words became louder once Rafe opened the driver’s side.

“…he’d rather take it out on you.”

“I’m not in the mood, Sarah.”

Rafe was talking to his sister, but you didn’t miss the cold look he fixed you with as he approached you. You shuddered when he placed a hand on the back of your neck the moment he reached you, lips grazing your forehead as he leaned in.

“…and you really have no reason for that. I took care of your girlfriend just fine,” she told him. “We just had too much to drink, and we fell asleep.”

Your boyfriend just hummed, pulling away to hold your gaze.

“Was that before or after the movie?”

His question came out low, so you knew that was solely for you, and when you merely pressed your lips together, Rafe’s nostrils flared. His hand was still on your neck as he guided you to the passenger’s side, only making the odd hum here and there as Sarah tried to plead your case. When he closed your door, your gaze traveled to the house, eyes lingering on the window as if you could see JJ inside.

“Give it a rest, Sarah,” you heard Rafe say as he opened his door. “You don’t think I know that you hate her being with me? Hmm?”

There was a heavy pause.

“I think you could treat her better, yes, but… You make it seem like I’m doing these things on purpose, Rafe!” Sarah hissed. “It was just girls having fun, and we lost track of time! You’re acting like she committed some grave offense instead of just behaving like a normal twenty-year-old.”

Your boyfriend didn’t respond to that, shutting the door in her face, and you reluctantly put on your seatbelt as he started his truck. You leaned your head back as you stared out of the window, savoring the view because this would be the last time you’d ever be on The Cut. At this point, Rafe was never going to let you out of his sight again if he could help it.

Reluctantly, you glanced at him, and your heart sank at the way he absolutely refused to look at you. Even if his knuckles weren’t completely white as his fingers clutched the wheel, you could almost feel the negativity radiating off of him. Against your better judgement, you said something.

“Rafe…”

You were cautious, unsure of how to proceed.

You’d never fucked up this bad before.

“Rafe, I…”

Your words died in the air when he held a hand up, not sparing you a glance. Mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you, you told yourself not to push your luck, sitting back and turning towards the window.

“Please, say something.”

You closed the front door behind you as Rafe made his way to the kitchen, basically ignoring you. Sarah was still at John B.’s, Ward was probably out taking care of business, and there was no telling where Rose was. Wheezie was probably the only one home, and you were only mildly sure of that only because she rarely left her room.

“Why? So you can give me some more excuses for you not coming home?”

You watched him grab a pot, opening the fridge.

“They wanted to smoke a blunt, and Kie didn’t want her parents’ house smelling like weed.”

It was technically the truth, only you didn’t specify who ‘they’ were. Rafe softly laughed to himself, but it was dry, lacking in humor. You watched him place a pack of hot dogs on the counter, filling the pot with water.

“Why should I believe you?”

His question came out quiet, and you swallowed when he glanced over his shoulder.

“You left your car and your phone at Kie’s,” he murmured, back facing you again. “Almost like you wanted me to believe you were somewhere you actually weren’t.”

You touched your forehead.

“That’s not what happened,” you whispered. “We were in a rush, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Convenient,” you heard him drawl. “Just as convenient as you ‘knocking out pretty early’ the other week too when I went to Charlotte.”

Your heart dropped at that, and you pressed your lips together when Rafe fully turned around, leaning against the counter. He stared you down, and you frowned at him.

“I mean, what are the chances that you’ve done this twice, now?”

“Rafe-.”

“You see where my head is at though, right?” he wondered, gently touching his temple. “You see why I’m looking at my girlfriend and wondering if she’s actually a sneaky bitch.”

You flinched at the insult.

“…and what if it wasn’t even just you girls?”

“Rafe,” you started, stepping towards him.

“What if John B. and Pope were there? JJ?” he sneered, lip curling over his teeth. “What if you and your new little sidekick are lying to me?”

You took a deep breath.

“You don’t believe that,” you whispered. “…because if you did…”

You threw your hands up.

“We wouldn’t be standing here…talking…”

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest, lips downturned as he nodded. He stared at you for a nerve-wracking amount of time, blue eyes intense and unmoving. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and that always scared you more than knowing. When he let out a small sigh after some time, you didn’t allow yourself to feel relief just yet.

“Come here…”

Resisting the urge to hesitate, you did. There was no escaping whatever Rafe wanted to do, only prolonging it, and you expected a slap or a harsh tug on your arm or even a hand around your throat. You did not expect, however, his hand in your hair and another on the back of your neck. A pained gasp was all that escaped you, the events happening so fast that you only gathered your thoughts in time to press your hand into the counter.

Your face was hovering above the pot of boiling hot water, the steam and heat hitting your skin and making you wince. Your other hand came up on the other side, pressing into the stovetop, and Rafe only pressed down harder on your head. You cried out in pain as you fought to push against his hand, and Rafe only moved closer.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the heat making them water.

“It’s interesting how when I’m around or just around the corner, that phone of yours is glued to your hip…as it should be…”

He pushed your face further down, the sound of the bubbling water reaching your ears.

“…but the moment I give you an inch, the moment I try to be nice,” he hissed. “…all of a sudden you barely give it a second thought, and you just leave it wherever you told me you’d be.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, peeling your eyes open and staring into the hot water.

Your hand slid along the counter, hands clammy from fear and nerves.

“How fucking convenient,” he spat, pressing harder against the back of your head.

You could feel tears spilling over just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears from the stairs. Rafe let you go, and you stumbled away from him, backing up into the fridge. Rafe’s entire visage was taut, eyes venomous and jaw ticking as he stared you down. Your eyes were wide, and you tearfully blinked, hurrying to wipe your face just as his youngest sister strode into the kitchen.

She scoffed.

“You’re not done with the hotdogs yet?” she practically whined. “You just put them in the water and boil them, Rafe.”

When he looked at her, his face softened some, and he chuckled.

“My bad, Wheezie,” he smiled. “Y/N keeps distracting me.”

They both looked at you, and you swallowed just as she sighed.

“He owes me hotdogs,” the younger girl told you. “You can have some too, but neither one of us will get any if he doesn’t actually cook them.”

She threw him a look to which he lightly laughed, turning back to the stove. You eyed the pot of hot water, pressing your nails into the counter as you cleared your throat.

“Sorry, Wheez,” you breathed. “I’ll try to keep him focused.”

Your voice was shaky, and when Rafe simply glanced at you, dropping the hotdogs in the water, you pressed your hand to your cheek, trying to cool your skin down.

You rinsed out your tub with trembling hands, watching the pink water swirl down the drain. You hadn’t stopped crying since last night, mostly quiet sniffles the moment Rafe rolled off of you, but you hadn’t been able to keep as quiet the moment he left this morning. With one look at the blood on your sheets, you wanted to throw up, but all you’d managed to do was break down.

You couldn’t take any more pain killers, so all that was left was a warm Epsom salt bath. It was far from relaxing, your sobs echoing around the bathroom as you scrubbed off semen and blood. One look in the mirror had you flinching, and you were never more grateful that your parents were out of town until Friday because you were sure this was the worst you’d ever looked. To make matters worse, you just knew the discoloration under your eye was only going to darken.

You tied your robe tight around you as you left your bathroom.

Only to stop short at the sight of JJ.

Your eyes were wide at the picture before you, the blond man standing in your bedroom. Your lips parted, and you opened and closed them, unsure of what to say or do. However, you quickly decided on something once you realized that he wasn’t even looking at you…but instead the sheets you hadn’t managed to pull off the bed.

“JJ…what…?”

You hurried across the room, throwing your comforter over your bed and facing him, gaze questioning. When his blue eye met yours, it wasn’t the warm welcome you were used to, and you hoped that he would ignore what he saw, but he didn’t. His eyes flitted over your face, drinking you in.

“What did he do to you?” he spat, teeth clenched.

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking around him and eyeing your open window.

“Did you break into my room?”

His expression didn’t change, and accepting that he was going to ignore your question until you answered his, you sighed.

“I don’t want to talk about that, JJ,” you whispered.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” he whispered back, moving closer. “…because you’re going to, or I’m telling Sarah.”

You blinked at him, disbelief filling you, and you scoffed. Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling, falling to sit on the edge of your bed.

“What do you think happened?” you tearfully wondered, shrugging. “I screwed up…and I will be lucky if I can even go pee in a public restroom without him standing over my shoulder.”

Your lips trembled, and you looked away, tears falling. You could feel the blonde’s eyes on you, and you wiped your face.

“What are you doing here, JJ?” you asked in a small voice.

The other guy moved closer, looking down at you, and you swallowed under his scrutiny.

“After the other night and yesterday morning, I had… I had to make sure that…”

He trailed off, no point in finishing because it was visibly obvious that you weren’t okay.

“I saw when you both came home last night, and I climbed up as soon as he left this morning,” he continued. “I really wanted you to be okay.”

His tone sounded defeated, and you wiped your face again. When he touched your face, you winced, and you didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his hand, eyes falling closed when his other hand gently found a home on the back of your head, pushing you to rest your forehead against his torso.

“Where is he?” he asked, voice hard.

“He went to the club with Kelce and Topper,” you murmured. “He’ll be calling every hour or so.”

The ‘or so’ was to keep you on your toes. It was late into the night when he drove you to Kie’s, closely hovering as you got both your phone and your car, truck tailgating you the entire drive home. The moment you’d made it inside of your house, you’d been pushed onto the floor. What commenced was just a blur of harsh kicks and harsh words, and a manhandled journey up the stairs.

The moment Rafe got you into your room, he’d wasted no time in tearing at every article of clothing you had on. Every action—every thrust—was done with the sole purpose to punish you. You hadn’t meant to scream—you rarely did anymore—but it had just hurt so bad that you couldn’t help it. When JJ pulled you to your feet, you curiously eyed him.

He said nothing to you as he pulled your sheets off of your bed, throwing them into a pile on the floor. The look he gave you held a silent question, and you pointed to your closet. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he grabbed a clean set, fixing them on your bed for you, and you felt your throat tighten.

“JJ, you don’t have to…”

You trailed off when he looked over his shoulder at you before continuing the task. When he was done, he moved closer to you, gently taking your arms. He stared at your face with a frown before exhaling.

“You not wanting me to tell Sarah or anyone about this is crazy,” he forced out, jaw ticking. “…but I get it, now. I understand that he’ll…”

JJ took a deep breath.

“I get what’s at stake,” he whispered, eyes looking between yours. “…but you can’t tell me to sit back and do nothing. That’s the tradeoff. You want me to keep quiet, then you let me be here for you.”

You understood where JJ was coming from, and you looked down. Asking JJ to keep quiet about Rafe’s abusive nature was asking a lot, and expecting the younger blond not to worry or help or be there for you in whatever way was asking for even more. It wasn’t really fair, and you reluctantly nodded.

You sat back down on your bed when he left your bedroom, and your mind spun over the predicament you found yourself in. Did…did you have two boyfriends? Is that what JJ was? Or was he simply the guy who treated you well and snuck into your bedroom and kissed you sometimes? It wasn’t right, but then again, the whole situation wasn’t right.

No, you shouldn’t be cheating on Rafe, but Rafe also shouldn’t be hitting you and raping you and hurting you in whatever manner he could whenever he wanted. JJ treated you good, proven in the way he returned upstairs with something cold he’d found in your freezer. His gaze was apologetic as he gently pressed it to your face, and you were unable to stop yourself from wincing.

When JJ sat down next to you, he tugged on you until you were lying down in his lap, looking up at him as he gazed down at you. His free arm made itself comfortable around your waist, and you reached down to cover his hand with yours. You were so used to Rafe’s treatment that you paid no mind to the dull ache between your legs, just thinking about when JJ kissed you again the other night.

It was the last thing that needed to be on your mind, and you closed your eyes.

“You can’t stay long, JJ,” you murmured.

You heard him sigh, although it sounded more like a huff.

“Yeah, I know.”

You felt your eyes burn.

“I don’t think I’ll be going to The Cut again,” you said. “I kind of ruined that.”

You felt and heard JJ lean down, and when his lips brushed over your swollen ones, you opened your eyes. When he pulled away, the blond held your gaze, expression thoughtful.

“That’s okay,” he eventually said. “You don’t have to to see them. We’ll find a way, and…”

He took your hand with his free one.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to you. “You know exactly where to find me.”

Your chest felt warm at that, and you found yourself eyeing his lips. When he leaned down again, you closed your eyes, ignoring how conflicted you felt. You couldn’t go on like this forever, but JJ and his possible place in your future wasn’t something you wanted to think about. In the moment, after being brutally raped by your boyfriend, you just wanted to feel good.