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Teenage Dirtbag X

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON acts, 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

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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.

⭑

You blinked at JJ’s question, leaning back against the wall of the pool house.

He sat next to you, both of you facing the couch, and you tried to ignore the feel of his arm brushing against yours. Despite the fact that it was only a week ago that he was kissing you in your bedroom—and that Rafe didn’t not deserve it—you still felt wrong about the whole thing. Horrible or not, the older blond was still your boyfriend, and it was bad enough that you were hiding out in the pool house with JJ while Rafe was probably off snorting coke with his friends.

You didn’t want to make it worse by doing anything other than talking.

The blonde’s question made you eventually sigh, straightening.

“Hey…hey, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t-.”

“No…I…” you shook your head. “It’s fine.”

That was the truth.

“It’s just that I’ve never talked about any of this with anyone before…”

Your voice shrank, and you didn’t want to admit how comforting it felt to feel JJ’s hands come up to rest on your arms. It was strange to say all of this out loud to anyone, especially JJ, because you were so used to Rafe’s behavior—had been rationalizing it for so long—and you felt nervous as to how JJ would take it.

“It was my 19th birthday,” you slowly said.

You felt JJ tense, and when you snuck a glance at him, there was a deep frown on his face as he looked at you.

“We were arguing…” you sadly smiled as you thought about what it’d been about. “…because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

You scoffed at the memory and at how you’d ignored what you thought was a little thing.

“It’d been a sore spot for a while. I was a virgin, I wasn’t ready, and Rafe was waiting longer than he’d anticipated.”

JJ’s hands fell, and he fully turned to face you, that frown remaining on his face as he listened.

“It became this whole…thing that really just pissed me off because it was my birthday,” you spat out, frowning now too. “It was my birthday party, and he was ruining it.”

You swallowed, recalling how angry and sad you’d felt that night.

“You know, I was reading up on this one day, and it said that sometimes people like him will purposely start arguments and fights on special days and holidays and stuff to make it all about them?” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. “They were right.”

Tears kissed your eyes, and JJ reached out to brush his thumbs underneath them.

“…because every time I think about that day, instead of remembering turning nineteen and celebrating with my family and my friends and my boyfriend… All I remember is him slapping me,” you whispered, holding JJ’s gaze. “All I remember is where it all started and how he begged me to forgive him…and how I should’ve left then.”

“Hey…”

“It was my birthday…but to me it’s just the beginning of the end. It’s the start of when Rafe ruined my life.”

JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and you pressed your face into his shoulder. You felt so odd—so much lighter—and you didn’t need to be a therapist to know that it was because you were finally talking about this. The blonde’s hands rubbing up and down your back was enough to make your lashes flutter.

“You know, I blamed myself for the longest time,” you mumbled.

JJ pulled away almost immediately, lips parting, and you shook your head.

“I know that it’s not my fault. I know that, now, but… I was so angry that night that I said things that I knew would make him mad,” you shrugged. “It just didn’t seem fair that I was the only one upset on my birthday.”

“That doesn’t excuse him hitting you,” JJ bit out, and you nodded with a shrug.

“It doesn’t…but…for a while I kind of believed I’d brought that on myself.”

JJ looked like he didn’t know how to take in what you’d told him, pink lips pressed together as he just studied your face. The bruising under your eye was practically nonexistent, and you shuddered when he reached up to lightly graze the skin with his fingers. You’d been exceptionally agreeable since the incident, dreading a repeat of the night where Rafe forced himself on you so violently that you’d had to strip the sheets.

JJ suddenly blinked, brows twitching, and there was an unsure look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, voice low, and you nodded.

A look passed over his face that you couldn’t place, and he seemed to be thinking hard about whatever was on his mind.

“A little over a year ago…”

You felt your shoulders droop, almost positive you knew where he was going with this.

“Sarah told us how you and Rafe had called the police one day.”

You sighed, recalling the story Ward had repeated. Neighbors were bound to notice a police car in the yard, bound to spread gossip, and he couldn’t very well tell people the truth.

“She didn’t know what for. Said that Ward wouldn’t tell her…”

JJ’s words died in the air as you stood, his hands falling from you. You tried not to think about that day if you could help it, and you were surprised by the quick procession of tears. JJ stood with you while you wiped your face, and you knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth.

“Did you call the cops? On him?”

By his tone, you could tell that he knew the answer, and when you sniffed, JJ was there. He turned you around and pulled you against him. The reminder of that day—and all the emotions that weighed you down that evening—had more tears escaping against your will. You twisted your fingers into the back of his shirt, trembling in his hold, and JJ held you tighter.

“I thought I was going to die,” you shakily confessed. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

You could feel a shiver crawl down his spine at that.

“He was so mad,” you cried. “He was screaming and throwing glass at me and…he put a gun in my mouth.”

Your face was pressed into the crook of JJ’s neck.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I really thought…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut. “It’s why I didn’t even want to talk to you. I didn’t want to go through that again for something as stupid as a smile.”

JJ seemed to freeze at that, and when he pulled away a bit, his gaze was questioning.

“What…?”

You opened and closed your mouth while JJ just stared at you, blue eyes glinting as his mind started to put the pieces together.

“What do you mean? Are you saying…?”

“No! JJ, that wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”

“Stop saying that,” he breathed. “What the hell do you mean? Are you saying Rafe did that because…?”

You rubbed your forehead, sighing.

“JJ, it wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who smiled back at you that day at The Wreck. Rafe saw.”

You swore you saw the color drain from his face, and you watched JJ stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the couch. He was staring up at you with parted lips, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that he was going over that interaction in his mind. It was such a simple and harmless interaction…one that had an almost fatal consequence.

JJ ran his hands down his face.

“…and when I told Rafe that you’d apologized to me?”

His voice was low—troubled—and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, you only pulled your lip between your teeth. When you didn’t respond right away, you watched him exhale, shoulders sagging as he buried his face into his hands.

“JJ, that wasn’t your fault.”

I’m an idiot,” he choked out.

“JJ…” you whispered. “You couldn’t have known.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

He was standing, now, and you hated the conflict and regret you saw in his eyes.

“I knew he treated you like shit,” he spat, gesturing towards the door. “I knew it would piss him off.”

“JJ,” you reached for him.

“I just thought you guys would argue a little,” he whispered, and you rested your hand on his arm. “I didn’t know that he was…”

You held his gaze—yours pleading—as you tried to get him to see that it wasn’t his fault. You needed JJ to understand that there was no way he could’ve known. Sarah lived under the same roof as Rafe—and you half the time—and she still didn’t know. You weren’t going to fault JJ for thinking Rafe was only capable of being a little bit of an asshole.

When JJ’s hand rested on your cheek, your heart skipped a beat.

He was getting closer, and you should’ve been stopping him. The truth was that you felt safe with JJ, and you didn’t want to. The beginning of your relationship with Rafe felt like ages ago, so this safe—and excited feeling—you were experiencing with JJ felt almost new. When his nose touched yours, you placed your hand on his chest.

“I never would’ve done that if I had known…”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you reassured him, swallowing when his other hand touched your waist, fingers grazing the skin from where your shirt rode up. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” JJ argued. “You were right that day. I was being an asshole.”

When his lips brushed yours, you shook your head.

“JJ-.”

The rest of your words were swallowed when his lips covered yours, following you every time you tried to step back. It had been a week since he kissed you last, and the way he moved his mouth over yours told you that he would do it every day if he could. His hands were all over you, and you gasped into his mouth when they rested on the small of your back, pinning your lower half against him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

When your back met the wall, JJ wasted no time in pressing his knee between your legs, and you couldn’t hold in the shudder as he pressed his leg against your clothed mound. Things felt like they were moving too fast, so much so that you didn’t even realize what was happening until you moaned, JJ forcing you to grind yourself against his leg.

His hands were tight on your waist, and his lips had just traveled to your neck when your phone rang.

It startled you and angered JJ, the blond letting out a frustrated huff. It was Rafe—you knew it was Rafe—the other blond calling you almost every hour from the moment he’d left. JJ’s hands briefly squeezed your waist before forcing himself to pull away. His blue eyes glinted, and when you studied his face, he only shook his head.

Reluctantly, he let you go.

“Hey,” you softly said the moment you answered the phone.

You avoided JJ’s gaze as Rafe’s voice filled your ear.

“You know what? I actually think I’m gonna just head home.”

JJ’s voice reached you from the kitchen, and you only briefly glanced up as Pope responded.

“Seriously man? Now, you don’t even want to go out anymore? You made such a fuss!”

“Yeah, I know,” the blond said, and you heard Sarah say something—probably to John B. “…but I’m not feeling too good, and I think I’m just going to go home.”

Pope sounded disappointed—as did John B. —but they didn’t argue with him much over it. You were currently in the Cameron’s kitchen getting something to eat, and you had been since Sarah, her boyfriend, Pope, and JJ came inside under the reasoning that Pope had to pee.

“We’re just going to hang out with some people at the beach,” she’d said.

You could see it in her eyes then that she’d wanted to ask you to join them, but even if you hadn’t given her a look warning her off of that, Rafe’s tight grip on you was clear. If Sarah thought he was strict before, then it was nothing in comparison to how he was now after the incident at The Chateau. His phone call only moments ago was proof of it.

“How are you going to get back?” Sarah wondered, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“You know I’ll find a way,” JJ told her, tone light and boastful.

She made an unsure sound before letting it go.

“Well, leave before Rafe gets back. I don’t want a phone call from Rose or Y/N telling me that my brother and my friend got into a fight.”

You closed the fridge as the rest of them filed out, telling JJ to call them when he made it back to The Cut. The house was oddly quiet, and while you wanted to pretend like you weren’t alone in the house with JJ—Rose didn’t count—it was kind of hard to do when you turned around to find him at the kitchen entrance.

He was wearing some shirt with the sleeves cut off—as he often did—and you tried not to let your gaze linger on his arms.

“I hope you didn’t do that for me…”

The smirk that danced along his lips gave you your answer.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, stepping into the kitchen. “I was kind of hoping Rafe wouldn’t be here.”

“…and he could walk in at any moment…as is his right. Considering,” you gestured around. “…this is his house.”

JJ leaned his arms on the other side of the counter, gazing up at you as you grabbed a paper towel.

“Hey, I’m sure I could find some excuse if he catches me in here…”

He straightened, slowly making his way around the island, and you didn’t miss that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“If he manages to find me on top of you…maybe I could even tell him I forced you into it.”

“JJ…” you said, taking a step back.

He held your gaze for a few moments before looking away with a shake of his head.

“Why do you feel bad about what you’re doing? He treats you like shit,” he chuckled, but it lacked humor.

You looked away from him, shrugging.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, and you didn’t hear him move closer, so you shuddered when you felt his fingers grazing the side of your face.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about kissing me,” he quietly told you. “If you ask me, you should be doing a lot worse.”

When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you’d anticipated, and you sharply inhaled. Despite his cheeky nature, you could see the way his eyes dimmed as he looked at you.

“Every time I think about him…and you…I think I could kill him.”

You frowned at his confession, shaking your head.

“JJ…”

“I would if you asked me to,” he continued, moving closer. “I’d drown him in the fucking ocean.”

“You can’t-! You can’t say things like that,” you said, voice lowering.

“Why not?” he curiously wondered. “You’re telling me you don’t want him dead for everything he’s put you through? There was blood on your sheets last week-.”

“I know,” you cut him off. “I was there, remember?”

You watched JJ take a deep breath, and he seemed to be calming himself down. The silence was a little tense, and you worriedly eyed the entrance, expecting Rafe to just show up at any moment. When JJ took your hand, you tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t let you. You found yourself between him and the counter, and your heart was in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just…don’t understand why you’re fighting me.”

Your eyes burned, and you briefly looked towards the ceiling.

“…because,” you breathed. “He’s still my boyfriend.”

“The only reason you’re with him is because you don’t want him to fucking murder you,” JJ sneered. “That’s not a relationship, that’s a hostage situation.”

You couldn’t disagree with JJ’s assessment, and you both knew it.

“He enjoys treating you like shit…so why can’t you bring yourself to enjoy treating him like shit?”

Again, JJ’s logic wasn’t wrong, and you briefly closed your eyes with a sigh.

“…because if he caught me, he’d kill me,” you whispered.

When JJ’s hand touched your face again, you held his gaze. The smile he gave you was small, and your heart fluttered when he brushed his thumb over your skin.

“What did I say earlier?” he mockingly replied. “Let him try to kill me for fucking his girlfriend, I don’t care.”

He pressed his lips to yours.

“I just want you to stop feeling guilty over that asshole because he doesn’t deserve it.”

You chewed on your lip as he ran his eyes over your face, and when he was about to kiss you again, you shook your head.

“You should go. Sarah was right, Rafe could be back at any moment, and… That’s not a fight I think I’ll ever be ready for,” you sighed, moving from between him and the counter.

JJ seemed reluctant, but he eventually obliged, grazing his hand along your waist on the way out.

Rafe’s light snores grew quieter the moment you closed the door behind you.

He’d come to your house drunk and stumbling, too wasted to even fuck you—although it wasn’t for lack of trying. Naturally, he wouldn’t hear a word you said about drunk driving, waving you off and laughing in your face. After his second failed attempt to stay awake, he merely rolled off of you, his even breathing reaching your ears only moments later.

You’d pulled your knees up to your chest, eyeing him for the longest time and mulling over your conversation with JJ. You knew that the other blond wasn’t wrong. Rafe had done—and would do—much worse to you. Your relationship wasn’t a relationship, at all, but instead a prison, and maybe you shouldn’t feel guilty for finding some semblance of happiness. No matter where it came from.

Once alcohol knocked Rafe out, he was pretty much dead to the world for hours.

…and that was how you found yourself putting on shoes while he slept. You might’ve been more nervous and scared if you weren’t so in tune with Rafe’s patterns. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t wake up until at least noon the following day, but you still kept your steps light as you made your way down the stairs. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, and your fingers shook while you disabled the alarm.

The walk across the lawn felt too long, and if you hadn’t already psyched yourself up, you might’ve turned around and went back inside the house. Out of paranoia, you looked over your shoulder, relieved to see that your room was still dark with no sign of movement in the window. JJ didn’t open the door right away when you knocked.

However, once fatigue faded a bit, and he realized that it was indeed you through the cracked door, he was swinging it open and pulling you inside.

“I just…wanted to sleep here for a few hours I guess,” you murmured, still feeling unsure.

JJ shifted on his feet, and you only then noticed his bare chest. The plaid pants he wore hung low on his hips, and you told yourself you weren’t here for anything like that.

“…and Rafe…?”

“So drunk that not even an earthquake could wake him,” you said with a shrug.

JJ pulled his lip between his teeth, eyeing you with a look that was hard to name. He didn’t respond right away, just staring at you and studying you. His light hair was going every which way, some hanging into his face, and one hand ran through it when the other eventually reached for you.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, pulling you to him.

The pool house wasn’t as big as others you’d seen—namely some of your former friends—but it was spacious enough for both a living room and a decent sized bedroom. JJ’s hand was tight on yours as he pulled you through the threshold, and you glanced around, recalling that you hadn’t been inside the bedroom since high school. The bedding was askew, obviously lived in, and you were glad your parents barely paid the building any mind outside of the yearly spring cleaning.

“Do you like staying here?” you asked him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

JJ found that funny.

“If you’d ever seen my place, you’d know how crazy that question is,” he told you, plopping down beside you. “I love staying here.”

His face was close to yours.

“…and not just because of the 100 thread count sheets or whatever.”

He shrugged at you, eyebrows waggling, and you fought back a smile.

“I guess I’ll have to see your place to give me some perspective then.”

His own smile twitched, and you didn’t like the way his face fell a bit.

“Nah,” he breathed. “That’s…not something I want you to see.”

You felt your own face fall.

“…I mean, I know things with your father are pretty…ugly, but it’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Your tone was a little hopeful, and you watched JJ watch you. His blue eyes shined in the darkness, and you didn’t miss the way his smile grew again. When he reached for your face, he let out a light laugh.

“Yeah…yeah it is where I grew up,” he confirmed. “I guess you’re right about that.”

He pulled you with him as he laid down, and you faced him on your side.

“We’ll have to find some way to get you back to The Cut then,” he whispered.

At the reminder of your last visit, you both grew quiet. You were sure you both were remembering that morning when Rafe came to pick you up, and you recalled your next reunion with JJ, feeling comforted that he was so worried about you the entire time. As if thinking of the exact same thing, he touched the skin under your eye, and before you could say anything, JJ leaned in to touch it with his lips.

“I really hate that you’re with him,” he said after a while, pulling away. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You took a deep breath at that, reaching out and touching his arm, thoughtful.

“…and you do…?”

When you lifted your gaze, your eyes met his again.

“I like to think that I do,” he murmured, fingers dancing towards your chin.

JJ pulled you into a kiss, and despite the fact that this wasn’t what you snuck out of the house for, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. In this moment, JJ felt like your boyfriend—lying in bed with you and talking to you and kissing you. It was the most relaxed you’d felt in bed for a long time, and you knew it was a feeling you could get used to…and have trouble going without.

“What are we doing?” you found yourself whispering in the darkness.

You looked between his eyes as you asked this.

“Rafe’s…asleep in my bedroom…and I…” you scoffed. “I’m here with you.”

“It’s sexy, isn’t it…”

“JJ,” you sighed. “I’m serious. Like…what are we doing?”

You were sure that your worry was all over your face.

“We don’t have to have an answer for that, right now,” was his response, hand touching your waist. “I just want to help you forget about Rafe, sometimes.”

He kissed you again.

“I want you to be with someone you don’t have to be afraid of,” he murmured against your lips. “Someone you can relax with.”

He pulled you closer, rolling you both, and when he rested on top of you, you pressed your hands to his arms.

“JJ, I don’t… I’m not comfortable with anything like that yet.”

Your lips brushed his as you spoke, and you swallowed.

“Kissing you and sneaking around to talk to you is one thing, but…”

You didn’t know why, but going beyond that in any way would make what you were doing seem too real—too deceptive. JJ didn’t seem to care about that though, pressing his lips to yours again.

“Do you trust me?” he wondered into the kiss.

“Yes, but-.”

“…but what?” his nose touched yours as he pulled back, holding your gaze. “You’re just scared because Rafe’s intimidated you and beaten you down so much that you’re afraid to do anything for yourself.”

Was that the root of it? It was true, of course, but you also still felt uncomfortable.

“I don’t know…”

“Hasn’t Rafe also been the only guy you’ve ever been with?”

You gave a reluctant nod, and JJ smiled at you.

“…and you don’t think that has something to do with it? You being scared of what you don’t know…?”

That was also true, and JJ took your silence as consent, kissing you again as his hand trailed down your frame. You made a slight noise of protest when his hand slipped between your thighs, Rafe’s t-shirt riding up. The blond on top of you swallowed it down, refusing to break the kiss, and you jerked when his fingers brushed over your underwear.

“JJ,” you said when you turned your head away, pushing at his arm.

“It’s okay,” he breathed against your cheek. “Trust me.”

When you looked at him again, his fingers were already tracing circles over where your opening was through the fabric. His blond hair touched your forehead.

“I would never hurt you,” he assured you, more pressure from his fingers, now.

You involuntarily lifted your hips, and you didn’t know if it was to push him away or get closer. You wanted to push him away, not quite okay with taking things this far just yet. In truth, you didn’t know if you’d ever be, and you thought about what JJ said. Maybe you were just scared, but did you fix that by pushing yourself to do something you weren’t ready for?

You supposed it didn’t matter, anyway.

JJ’s fingers were circling your clit, panties resting on his hand as he touched you. His lips trailed kisses along your neck, and without thinking, you threw your head back. You forgot all about Rafe who was knocked out drunk in your bed, none the wiser to JJ’s fingers sliding between your lower lips. You could feel genuine excitement, something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you sighed when he dragged his fingers between your folds.

You could tell that JJ was being mindful of whatever lasting damage there still might be from last week.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, lips at the corner of your mouth. “…and wet.”

You shuddered at those words and the feel of the tips of his fingers just barely dipping into you before he pulled them out.

“Do you get this wet for Rafe?”

The mention of your boyfriend had your heart skipping a beat, but the feel of JJ’s fingers massaging your soaking cunt had you answering honestly.

“No,” you breathed, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he confessed.

“JJ,” you warned, hand on his wrist.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but a guy can dream.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth.

“I think about it a lot…pushing my cock into you and watching you stretch around me…”

When you softly moaned at that, JJ hummed.

“Do you think about it too? About milking me dry?”

You clenched around nothing, aching as he circled his fingers.

“…because I do…especially in his bed,” you dug your nails into his skin. “Fucking you until you come on his sheets, letting me fill you up right where he sleeps.”

You gently shuddered, your orgasm washing over you as you wrapped your other arm around him. JJ rode the wave with you, fingers rubbing against you, playing with you as you soaked them.

“Atta girl,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt slightly disbelieving at what had just occurred.

The proof was smeared on the inside of your thighs, but even when you watched JJ place his fingers into his mouth, it still didn’t feel real. JJ wouldn’t let you go as you caught your breath, kissing you again when you finally did.

“See,” he quietly told you. “That wasn’t so bad.”

He may have been right in some aspects, but JJ’s way around words and that tempting influence of his had you worried about what else you’d convince yourself you wanted.

bratty!reader flipping rafe off at the country club and he yells OOOUU PUT IT DOWN

your fic is shorter day by day, could u make an effort for it not just writing little paragraph

Hey but I don’t write fics I write blurbs from the anons requests, if you actually went on my masterlist and went through all of them they’re all kind of the same length except for a few. Maybe in the future I will start to write fics but I won’t right now.

Hope this cleared a few things up x

⋆ ★ you and rafe having a argument midfuck...

18+ smut (pinv), squirting, cursing, angst, spit kink, high-key toxic relationship, (accused) cheating, Toxic!Manipulative! Rafe, mentions of ocs

a/n: putting this fic out until I'm done writing part two of how I slept with your father. Also thanks for all the love and support 💕

You'd been lying on your side; your leg rested on the curve of Rafe's shoulder. Your hand, the one that wasn't periodically stimulating your clit, had been clenched in a fist with your head resting on top of it. 

Your body moved with each hard thrust of Rafe's thick cock, and though the pleasure of Rafe's length never failed to make you feel good, you stayed there emotionless, staring bitterly into the cerulean color of Rafe's eyes.  

You couldn't help but wonder how you had arrived at this point, where physical pleasure no longer carried any emotional weight. The once-intense connection between you and Rafe had momentarily faded, leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Rafe had been staring at your glistening slit and your little hole, outstretched and turning red from the never-ending penetration of his cock. 

He figured something was wrong with you because you hadn't moaned, not even when he let a glob of his spit plop down onto your pussy and fucked it inside of you; you usually liked when he did stuff like that. 

And though Rafe could have asked if there was something he'd done wrong (which he was sure he did), he didn't risk it; after all, you'd let him fuck you to sleep, so you couldn't be that mad at him. 

"Switch." he told you, moving your leg from his shoulder and resting both your legs on his sides, where he slotted his body between you and started fucking you in missionary. 

"Do you think Courtney fucks good?" You asked.

Rafe stilled inside you momentarily, taking a moment to match a face to the name "Courtney".

He slowly begins moving inside your warmth, the sound of bodies connecting going "plap...plap...plap".

"Who's Courtney?"

You leaned up to where you rested on your elbows, now your nose, and eyes leveled with Rafe's. 

"Y'know, that red-head chick who bartends at the country club." You said. 

Rafe had told you 'no,' that he didn't know any red-headed girl named Courtney who bartended at the country club, but deep down, he knew exactly who you'd been talking about. Everyone at the country club knew of Courtney--particularly the guys, having given her the nickname "cherry" for her loud red hair and double d size tits. 

"The girl you always give good tips to and always joke with, that's Courtney, that should jog your memory." You said.

Rafe had a feeling you wouldn't let this go, so just as he adjusted himself on his knees, and pulled both of your calfs on his shoulders, He pretends to realize, saying "Ah, that's Courtney."

"Yeah, her." you say.

The both of you stayed silent for a moment, Rafe's cock still plunging deep inside of you. There had been a moment when you'd felt the tip of his cock kiss your g-spot, causing you to roll your eyes to the back of your head and clinch hard around his length.

"Fuckk." he drags, kissing your temples, and squeezing your left breast.

"So, do you think she fucks good?" You ask again.

"Who?" Rafe plays dumb.

"Courtney, who else?"

"How should I know?" Rafe grumbled, agitation wrangling over his face, and as a consequence, his grip on your hips tightened, and he started fucking into you faster, and just for the sake of your comfort, you retracted your legs back to your sides.

You looked down to where you and Rafe connected; it had been a gaudy mess of spit, sweat, and arousal--the result of trying to get yourselves off for hours. 

As Rafe pounded into you, you found it suddenly hard to keep your composer. It was challenging to hold yourself up on your elbows and even more difficult to form a coherent sentence that didn't involve long pauses, quiet moans, and panted 'fucks.' 

But you had to confront Rafe about Courtney. Now would be the only good time, and he couldn't walk away or turn this into a big screaming match. 

He had the serenity of your pussy to keep him calm and rooted. 

So you pushed through the immense feeling of pleasure. 

"Why'd you ask me about Courtney?" 

Rafe may have been cruising on uncharted territory, but he just had to know what you have heard about him recently. 

"Well, you know how every fucking kook goes to the country club?" You asked, and Rafe hadn't said anything. "And you know how all of our friends are kooks and you know how people talk?" Rafe kept fucking into you. 

"I heard while I was away in Venice for my father's birthday, you were seen with Courtney." 

"No shit." Rafe said. "She's the bartender at the Country club, and I go to the bar a lot, y/n." 

And as if it was possible, Rafe brought your ass and pussy closer to him, his cock nudging that spongey spot inside of you repeatedly. 

And though you wanted to drag this moment for as long as possible, you also wanted that knot in your belly to finally snap. 

"Outside of the bar at the Country Club, Ray--Can you rub my clit?" 

Your breath hitched at the rough flesh of Rafe's thumb, circling your little bud. 

"At one of your parties, to be exact." You panted. "Everyone said the whole night you looked like you wanted to fuck her, so that's why I asked; I wanted to know if you think she would fuck better than me; if so, you can fuck her and not me.” you scold.

As time went on, it felt like the amount of pressure Rafe applied to your clit increased, and the feeling of his cock slotting in and out of your cunt seemed to be never-ending, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

"Shit." He cursed; you assumed he was close to his peak as well. "And who the hell is everyone?" He said over the sound of flesh slapping into flesh. 

"My friends." You mewled. 

"Those jealous bitches? Trina--isn't she one of your friends? She was practically on my dick all night, but because your friends said I was talking to another girl that's not you, I'm the bad guy? Fuck that." he spat, his thrust getting deeper and deeper--more sloppier. 

"Rafe, I'm--I'm." you moaned. 

"Shut up, I'm talking now. I'm getting sick of your shit, Y/n. Just because of your insecurities, I can't live my life. How am I going to be in a relationship with someone that constantly accuses me of cheating?" 

Just then, as Rafe's hips hitched from him spilling inside of you (unbeknownst to you), you came undone. You'd been a squirter, so you squeezed your eyes tight as your cunt gushed uncontrollably around Rafe's cock. 

Some of your arousal soaked Rafe's pelvis, the sheets of your shared bed, and even some splashed onto your stomach. 

Rafe had gotten to you. 

As he got up and put his disregarded clothes back on, you sat on your knees on the edge of the bed, watching him. 

"I'm sorry, Rafe. Don't be mad at me. I should have thought things through." you cried. 

"You're always saying that shit." He spat, putting his shoes on. 

You brought your palms to your teary eyes as Rafe hovered over you. 

"I expect my bedsheets to be replaced by the time I get back." He said. 

"Where are you going?" you asked him.

"Don't you have a tracker on my car or some shit? You'll find out." He scoffed, and with that being said, he left. 

Truth be told, you hadn't put a tracker on Rafe's car—nor his phone, which he was grateful for because if he had a tracker on him, he wouldn't be picking up Courtney from her shift at the country club, where they would fuck in his car for about an hour, pick up something to eat, probably fuck again, and then he'd drop her off on the south side of the outer banks.

And to be even more truthful, Rafe would feel like him fucking Courtney wouldn't entirely be his fault; after all, he'd gotten the idea from you. 

this moment >>>>>>

hiii i was just reminded of this song & thought it was v angsty rafe coded so if you’re still accepting requests for your 5k celebration (congrats sm again btw!!!) may i req a 🍪 with sober by elita?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: dark!rafe x bambi!reader

summary: ❝when i'm with you i float on a cloud, but you cover my mouth and leave my legs bound. i'm scared that i gave you all of the control. i can't get up, i've dug myself into a hole.❞ — a back and forth match about rafe’s sobriety ends with him between your thighs.

warnings: dark themes, drug use, mentions of addiction and sobriety, arguing, yelling, rafe drugs you, dubcon (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping, choking, crying, dacryphilia, no aftercare whatsoever :(

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is out of the norm for me to write, pls read warnings carefully and don’t read any further if you’re not comfortable <3 participate in this poll if you’d like!

“what are you doing?” you froze, eyes puffy and red from crying. rafe looked up from the small bag of blow between his fingers, his eyebrows knitting in irritation. “what the fuck does it look like?” he sneered, his knee bouncing as he itched for his next bump. you watched him take the white powder on his finger, wasting no time in rubbing the substance on his gums. your heart broke for him. “you said you were going to stop..” you stepped closer to him, the tears flowing once again.

“yeah? well, what else can i do?” he pushed you back, your hands catching onto his arm. “you promised me, rafe! you said it!” you cried, your boyfriend getting up before slamming you down on your shared bed. you released a breath, his manic eyes burning into yours. “look at you.” you whispered, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “how did we get here?” you croaked, panic settling in the pit of your stomach. rafe gritted his teeth, squeezing you tighter.

you started struggling against him, only being able to get out of his grip when you raked your nails down his chest. “you did this to yourself!” he shouted, punching the wall. “you choose to stay here, so i don’t ‘wanna hear shit.” rafe spat, turning around to shoot daggers at your crying form. “i just want you to be healthy. ‘n not high all the time.” you whispered the last part, your heart dropping when he narrowed his eyes at you. “what did you just say?” rafe stalked towards you.

“you know it’s true.” you scooted further up the bed, your heart hammering in your chest when he started laughing. “your eyes get so big, you scare me.” you flinched when he gripped the bedsheets, pulling them so he could get you close. “i scare you?” he laughed harder, “i’ll really give you something to be scared about.” you attempted to run, but he ultimately had the upper hand in caging you between his arms. “where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

you shook your head, cupping his face. he looked like he was on the verge of going off the deep end. “no where! no where..” you were panting, afraid of what he might do. you had to be careful and watch your every move when rafe wasn’t in his right mind. any slip of tongue or the wrong movement would send him spiraling. “you trying to leave me?” his voice dropped a few octaves, his fingers shaking against your skin. “no. i could never leave you, remember?”

the fear in your eyes were as clear as day, and rafe knew you were lying out of instinct to stay on his good side. that only pissed him off more. swallowing thickly, rafe sat back on his heels, taking the small bag out of his pocket. “i didn’t want to do this to you, baby..” he took the tip of his finger and dipped it in. “but i promise you’ll feel so good.” with the powdery drug on his index finger, you started thrashing against him as he forced his digit inside of your mouth.

“no!” you screamed, but it was too late. rafe wore a wicked smile, popping the same finger in his mouth to get off the residue that didn’t smear against your tongue and gums. you stayed frozen underneath him, looking up at the ceiling as rafe got up from on top of you. not knowing where he went, or what he went to do, you laid there until you found it impossible to be still. getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom where you stared at your reflection.

your pupils were absolutely blown, a pang of hurt pulling at your heartstrings. you had given rafe so much control, that he did the unthinkable to you. speaking of the devil, you looked up at him as he emerged from behind the door, his eyes meeting your matching ones. he wore a smug look on his face, like he was proud of himself for corrupting you. “feel like you could run a marathon?” you were breathing fast, a thin sheen of sweat adorning your skin.

“how could you?” you turned around, his hands planting themselves on your hips. he felt hot, like his flesh was on fire. “don’t worry, bambi, you’ll be fine.” he kissed you, his taste just as intoxicating. if it wasn’t for the endorphins running through your veins at a million miles per minute, you would’ve pushed rafe away. instead, you felt like you needed to move, and fast. you kissed him back, the fervor between the two of you growing until he picked you up and carried you to your room.

nipping your bottom lip, you whimpered, the stinging sensation only making you cling onto rafe with more desperation. “gonna fuck you so good, baby. ‘have you coming down from that high around my cock.” he pinned you to the mattress, forcing your legs open as he slipped his shirt off in one swift movement. you gasped when he held both of your ankles in one hand, pushing down so your knees met your chest.

the sound of rafe’s zipper was the last thing you heard before he thrusted into you without warning, eliciting a piercing scream from your lips. he hadn’t got you ‘ready’ for him the way he normally did, your walls fluttering around the intrusion that was his throbbing cock. your back arched off of the sheets, your eyes watering as rafe merely used you to get himself off. he worked with precision, having no regard for you as he relentlessly slammed his hips into your own.

your nails dug into your skin, forming crescents as you cried underneath him. “rafe!” you tapped on his arm, which only agitated him. “shut the fuck up.” he said through gritted teeth, landing a slap to your cheek. holding your face, rafe looked down and groaned. he knew it was wrong to get off on you crying, but with lust and blow running through his system, he didn’t care. “you’re so mean.” you whined, your muscles aching as he started toying with your clit.

“i’m not mean. i’m the one who fuckin’ takes care of you,” he pressed a kiss to your calf, “so just lay there and take what i give you.” your eyes rolled back, your thighs trembling when his thrusts became sloppy. you hated yourself for falling into his ministrations, your orgasm ripping through you as rafe collapsed on top of you with a moan. “oh, shit.” he spilled inside of you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your velvety walls. he wiped your eyes before kissing your cheek.

you were coming down from both highs when he left you, the sound of the shower turning on in the nearby bathroom. you felt scared, not knowing what to think of your reaction to the drug you grew to hate so much. when rafe got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he didn’t spare you a glance before changing and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “you make me lose my temper when you wanna argue about shit like that. keep your mouth shut next time.”

It is so sad to see a lot of writers experiencing burn out at the moment.

We create and create and create trying to keep up with our own demands or pressure from readers but no one can leave comments or reblogs. Smdh.

This site is gonna die without engagement yall. Comments and reblogs are air beneath a writers wing. They cant fly on cold, dead air.

Don't matter if the fic is "old", or hasn't been updated, or already has 50 comments, or you feel silly, leave one. Reblog. How did you find the post in the first place? Someone you know reblogged it.

Leave comments. "Enjoyed this, this was great, omg my chest, *long analysis*, whatever. Fandom is a community and it thrives on sharing ideas. Instead of taking your thoughts to the group chat, comment under the fic! Have discussions under the fic! Stop excluding the author from being able to engage in this labor or love they produced.

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

quick poster for Imola with trying something new 🇮🇹✨💃🏻

Reblog if you’re black tumblr

and yes you have to be black, this isn’t an all access typa club