✰ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐣

nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

GIRL OF THE SEA | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — After leaving the Island Club, Rafe hadn't expected to find a mermaid on the beach.

Word Count — 1.0K

Content — fluff, mentions of nakedness.

Dedication — to @erwinsvow whom I talked about this concept months ago, and to The Little Mermaid (2023) movie that's currently playing at the corner of my screen as I write this.

Rafe hadn’t expect to find you.

Half-past eleven, he was leaving the Island Club and found intrigue in the distance. A glimmer against the harsh currents, banging against the coastline. He hadn’t given it much thought—until it looked like the sea was glowing like stardusts had fallen into the ocean.

Drunk, he trekked down the valleys of the beach, slipped against the coarse sand, and made his way to the shoreline. He hadn’t expected much—perhaps it was a mirage, a trick of his sight—but what he found was completely out of his realm of predictions.

It was you.

Naked.

Your legs stretched across the wet sand, your body bare of any fabric, saved for seashells covering your breasts. Your hair was damp, freshly pulled from the ocean, and your fingers traced the skin of your thighs, mesmerized, as if you had never seen such a thing.

Because you hadn’t.

You were a mermaid, sworn to keep away from the surface world, to stay off humans. But you were fascinated—you saw the Island Club’s fireworks, the twinkles in the sky, and the bare beach, voided of humans, voided of predators, that you just wanted a taste for it yourself.

Somehow, you pulled to the coast, dragged your tail against the sand, pulled your weight till it found dry land. Afterward, with permission of a secret potion, you digested the ingredients and shifted into legs. Human legs. You gasped at the fascination of it being attached to your own, that they were yours to control.

Rafe followed the trail. He saw the thick tail outlined against the sodden sand, before being transformed into a pair of legs. It looked odd, but he wasn’t going to assume mermaids; he always thought they were a myth, a folktale.

He just thought you were crazy.

“Hello?” Rafe asks with a slur of his words, blinking in surprise at your lack of modesty. You look up, eyes twinkling, and a smile curves at your lips. You don’t have a sense of danger, a sense of fear for the humans everyone warned you about.

Instead, you were intrigued, your eyes trailing down the length of Rafe’s body, the way he held the bottle of beer in his hands. You don’t have that back in the ocean.

“Legs,” you point at him, and for a second, Rafe grows self-conscious.

“What?” He gapes.

“You have legs,” you repeat, a grin broadening your face with childlike wonder. Your fingers shifts, pointing at yourself. “Me too! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Rafe assumes you’re high. That you’ve taken something from the Pogues, and you’re here, in the middle of the beach, alone, naked, with no consideration other than the fact that you had legs. Whatever you took, he wants a taste of it himself.

But it’s also odd. Because you didn’t look intoxicated. Your eyes are a little wild, but that’s from enthusiasm, from curiosity, not from narcotics. They’re clear, they’re wide, and they’re wrinkled with this spark of joy Rafe had never seen in a human before.

“Yeah,” Rafe drawls slowly, “Yeah, they’re good.”

You beam, your hands propping your upper body on the sand as you attempt to pull yourself up. On the first try, you fell miserably, landing harshly against the coarse grains, and an oomph leaves your throat. Rafe winces at the sight, at the pain you must endure, but all you do is laugh.

You’re laughing because you never done this before.

You try again, but your knees buckle under your weight. Gravity, it seems, is against you. But you’re resilient. You pull yourself up, several times if necessary, so you can finally use the opportunity to walk on land as you always dreamed of.

You fall again.

“Alright, alright,” Rafe steps forward, and wraps his arm around your waist, helping to your feet. “Come on, Bambi, it ain’t that hard,” he says in a light tone, and you smile.

“It’s new,” you confess in a soft, sirened whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning to you, your face centimeters from his. The glow of your expression is enchanting, like all the right proportions, all the right features that Rafe had always seen in a woman. It steals his breath away. “This your first time walkin’?”

You grin, “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yeah, yeah, amazing,” he shakes his head, holding you upright, as you slowly find your footing. Your feet touch the sand, and it sinks under your weight, grains trickling between your toes. Toes, things you’ve never had before, and you wiggle them. Oh, it feels glorious.

“Good?” Rafe asks, recognizing now that it’s not going to be easy helping you out of this beach. He isn’t sure if you’re not drunk, if you’re not doped up, but he is sure that there’s absolutely no way you’re in the right state of mind to tell him which direction is your home.

He has to take you back to Tannyhill.

But he can’t if you’re completely naked, hidden modesty behind two shells that look like they were strung together from a costume.

He has to help.

He doesn’t know why he wants to.

Shrugging off his jacket, Rafe steadily lets you go to cover you up. Thankfully, the jacket falls mid-thigh, covering up the essentials so that you won’t get arrested for public indecency.

You feel the weight of the fabrics on your shoulders, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. It’s a luxury to receive items like these, to cover yourself up, and it’s only done in the case of mating.

You turn to him, loose strands of hair falling over your face, delicately dancing over your eyes, in a way that makes you have this innocence, natural beauty. “Where I come from, this is considered a marriage proposal,” you declare, using your arms to wrap around his bicep, using Rafe as a walking crunch.

The corner of his mouth lips, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Let’s get you covered up first, and we can talk about that later.”

You nod, agreeing, and as you plant a small kiss on his cheek, Rafe pulls you inland, across his beach, to his car, and back to Tannyhill.

He’ll figure out everything later.

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i miss challengers so bad can they remake it every year with the exact same cast and plot but make it a different sport every time

trying to break up with your fuck buddy, rafe

rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.

‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.

you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’

‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.

‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’

he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’

‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’

he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’

you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’

his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.

‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’

he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’

‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’

rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.

then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.

your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.

‘you should go,’ you say softly.

a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’

‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’

he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’

‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’

his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’

‘what thing?’

‘acting like you don’t care.’

you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’

something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.

he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’

you nod. ‘yeah.’

he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’

you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’

‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’

you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’

‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’

‘that’s not how this works.’

‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’

you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’

‘what?’

‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’

his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.

‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’

his lips part slightly, but no words come out.

‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’

he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.

fear.

‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.

your breath catches. ‘then be better.’

rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’

‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’

the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.

then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’

rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.

‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’

your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.

his gaze softens. ‘stay?’

you hesitate. ‘rafe—’

he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’

you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.

he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.

you wonder if his heart beats steadily.

his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’

your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.

‘okay,’ you whisper.

he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’

you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.

‘yeah.’

an. inspired by rory and logan.

Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

3.0k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

Tobey Brown is not a gentleman. You learn this more than once, all reasons congregating into one big fat turn off. Firstly, he’s late. By an hour. You’re sat waiting in your living room, no text, no call- and you think you’ve been stood up. You’re about to get changed again when your phone buzzes on your dresser, a text from the man of the hour saying here here. Secondly, he doesn’t apologise. For anything. For being late, for not texting. Thirdly, he eats like a pig.

The restaurant you’re in is fancy, flowers in a vase and candles lit on the table. You’ve opted for a glass of red wine, as well as a salmon plate that Tobey promised he’d pay for. He chose the greasiest burger on the menu, two sides of fries and a beer you’ve never heard of- and he did not hold back on eating like a famished child.

Despite all the above- you had to give it to him. He was very good at conversation and had a charming smile. You take a bite of your salmon, relishing in the flavour as you observe Tobey stuff his face before his eyes meet your own, and he smiles.

“How’s your food?” He asks and you nod, picking up some asparagus with your fork. “It’s really good, very flavourful. Yours?”

“Fucking wonderful, you should try some,” he holds the burger in your direction and you shake your head, picking at some more food on your own plate.

“Your loss,” he shrugs, taking another bite. You fall into silence, finishing your food before Tobey pays for the both of you, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you walk out of the restaurant and towards his car.

He opens the door for you, allowing you to slide in and shut the door behind you. He clambers into the drivers side and starts the car, back towards your apartment.

“So, what’s up with you and Rafe?” The question shocks you, snapping your head towards Tobey. He looks between you and the road every few seconds, face stoic as if he’s done nothing wrong.

“Nothing- why would you even think that?” He shrugs, taking a left onto a busier road. It’s dark in the car but you can still see the question lingering on his facial features.

“You two just look at each other with fuck me eyes,” he says, looking over again. You scoff under your breath, looking out of the window. Reason number four: he has no filter.

“I don’t know about him but I certainly do not give our teacher fuck me eyes.” You respond, grabbing your purse as he pulls up outside your estate. You know he’s going to ask you if you’ve had fun, and you’re really going to struggle holding your tongue.

This was a mistake. Tobey would make a great friend, or maybe a friends boyfriend that you speak to occasionally- but you did not want to see him again. Ever, really.

He puts the car in park and turns towards you, clearing his throat. “I uh, had fun tonight.”

You give him a tight lipped smile, nodding your head. “Me too,” it comes out more forced than you would like, and you wince, gripping your purse tighter.

“Okay, goodnight!” He says, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. It leaves a little wet patch where his lips were and you cringe internally, wishing him goodnight too before getting out of his car. You scan your card and open the sidewalk gate, glancing over your shoulder to see him already turning around on the other side of the gate.

Such a gentleman.

It takes you five minutes to reach your apartment, and when you do, there’s a figure sat on your front step. Broad shoulders, buzzed head.

Fucking Rafe Cameron. He’s holding both his hands in his lap, staring down at them until he hears the click of your heels on the sidewalk and he looks up, quickly standing as you walk up the path to your door.

You don’t address him, shoving your key in the lock and opening your door. You go to close it, until his hand stops it, leaning down to look at you.

“Can I talk to you, please?” He all but begs, leaving in the doorway so you can’t shut it. You want to roll your eyes, pressing your lips together.

“No. Go away,” you go to close the door again but he’s just too strong, barely budging as you try your hardest. You see a glimmer of a smirk etch on his lips before it disappears again, scratching the back of his head.

“Please, five minutes. Then I’m gone,” he whispers, and you contemplate it. You don’t know how long he’s been sat there, or how he even got in- like when he left the flowers the other day. Five minutes of your time with Rafe seemed a lot more promising than whatever you had just had with Tobey, and you sigh. You couldn’t think of what he could possibly tell you that would make the situation any better.

“Five minutes and then you go back where you came from,” you announce, opening the door to let him inside. He nods and steps into your home, taking his shoes off at the door as you shut it. You let him follow you into the kitchen, standing at the sink as you fill up a glass of water. He drums his hands on the other side of the island, keeping his distance.

“You’ve got a nice apartment,” he mumbles, and you turn, eyebrow raised. “Four minutes.”

You lean against the island, waiting for him to say anything. He doesn’t. He looks down at you, eyes trying to find your soul, you’re sure.

It makes you shiver, but you refuse to fall under his spell again.

“Three minutes,” you say, checking your phone.

“Whatever you saw wasn’t what you saw,” he begins. “She came to the classroom with a letter from her father about her grades and I was laughing because she tried to buy grades from me,” he huffs, spitting out the words so fast you’re surprised you understood them.

“When she pushed my shoulder I told her to leave but she wasn’t having it. Nothing happened, I promise.” You take a sip of water, letting the information sink in. You nod, slowly. That doesn’t surprise you, considering it’s Kendra that he’s on about.

“Okay. Still doesn’t change what I said,” you respond, placing your glass on the side. He groans, and you can feel the exasperation in his tone.

“Look- I didn’t want her to be there okay, she just wouldn’t leave.”

Rafe’s knuckles are turning white where he’s gripping the counter top. “But that doesn’t matter, Rafe, because I’m not your girlfriend or anything along those lines. She can come and go as she pleases.”

He runs a hand down his face, eyes meeting your own again. “I don’t want her to come and go, I want you.”

Silence. You’re not sure what to say, throat closing. He rounds the island, closer than ever, and you can feel your resolve crumbling. You’re quickly losing a fight with yourself. He’s doing it again, being so- Him, turning you mushy and stupid and not able to form a thought.

His hands come up to your shoulders, closing the distance between you. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since that kiss,” his hand grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I know what it looked like, but it wasn’t that. She doesn’t matter to me.” The way he’s speaking to you sounds like he’s in love with you, and it’s so overwhelming. Your head is spinning and you pull out of his grasp, stumbling away. Your legs carry you to your bedroom door, opening it and taking a seat on your bed.

You can hear Rafe’s footsteps padding towards the door. Your mind is jumbled, not quite understanding what’s happening. You can’t wrap your brain around any thoughts. All you’d done is kiss the man. He couldn’t be this serious.

Rafe kneels in front of you. “You okay?” He asks, placing his hands on your knees. The touch burns, contrasting against the icy thickness everywhere else on your body.

You reach up a hand, rubbing your eye. “I’m not sure. Confused.” He nods, taking a seat next to you. It’s silent, giving you time to rearrange your head, when Rafe speaks again.

“Why were you at campus that night?” You’re staring at the wall, trying to find the best answer. I was coming to fuck you doesnt sound so great, you think- but then neither does anything else you try.

“I uh- I was coming to see you,” he laughs, shaking the bed beneath you slightly. “Yeah? What for?” There’s no more seriousness or heaviness in his tone and you’re thankful.

“Uni work,” you lie, hoping he believes it. He scoffs, folding his hands down in his lap. “And what about today? Where were you?”

You skim your eyes over to him, his gaze heavy down on you. “I was on a date,” he stiffens. You can feel it, through the bed, the way his body almost freezes.

“That’s- cool. Who with?” He asks. You can’t quite believe the audacity of the way he’s asking questions, like you owe him your entire life. You’ve kissed him once.

Once.

“Tobey, if you must know,” his jaw clenches, you can see from the corner of your eye. He stands, walking over to your dresser, picking up a picture of you and Molly. It’s like he’s trying to distract himself, the silence lingering over the both of you as you think of something to say.

Do you tell him to leave? Tell him that you’re not into whatever’s going on? You know you don’t want either.

“Was it good?” He asks, suddenly. You observe as he drums his fingers on the top of the dresser, turning to look at you. He looks angry.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Rafe.” His jaw ticks.

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad,” his tone has changed, face stone like as he looks around your room. Your phone buzzes on the bed, a text from Tobey himself, asking if he can take you on another date. You can see Rafe also looking down at your phone.

“He’s not a good kid,” he says, clicking his tongue. You ponder about responding to Tobey to piss him off, but with the way Rafe is looking at you right now, he could murder you. You think. And it scares you.

“You’re not much better,” you bite back, huffing and standing. You want him to leave now. You walk over to the door, about to reach for the handle to open it, when you’re pushed up against the door.

Rafe’s lips are on your own, clashing against you as you fight desperately not to give in. There’s just a way that he gets you, within a matter of seconds, like the last time you kissed- where you wanted more. And you’re feeling that now. More than ever.

It’s so erotic, the way he’s pressing all into you, kissing you- and you finally kiss back. He smirks into the kiss, hand coming up to wrap around your neck as his lips ghost up to your ear.

“I’ll show you I’m better,” he kisses you again, hands working on pushing your leather jacket down your shoulders. You wrap your arms around his neck, sighing as he moves his kisses down your neck where he can reach further without the jacket in the way.

“Don’t need anybody else when I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispers, plucking a strap of your corset off your shoulder and letting it fall down your arm.

“Rafe,” you sigh. “This is wrong,” you’re slowly finding your conscience, grasping onto reality about how wrong the situation is again- but Rafe just laughs.

“Bit late for that, sweetheart. Should’ve thought about that before you turned up in these outfits to my classes,” his voice is gruff and he presses inbetween your legs, hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs. He taps and you don’t protest, jumping slightly to allow him to lift you up. You can feel all of him at once and you gasp, head lolling to the side.

He’s right, you think. You’re way past the realm of reason. There is truly no going back. Rafe is staring into your eyes, like he’s waiting for what you say next, lips swollen. You can tell he’s trying so hard not to grind into you- to do anything, and it makes you swell.

“Fuck it,” you say, leaning forward and knocking your lips to his own again. He groans, lifting you from the door as he no longer holds back. He drops you onto your bed, slotting inbetween your legs, wasting no time. You’re moaning as he grinds down on you, kissing down your neck, pushing your other corset strap down and freeing your boobs from the tight material.

One of his hands reaches up and grabs a handful as his lips wrap around the other and you whine out, arching into his thrusts. Rafe groans again, swapping sides on your chest. His other hand reaches down between you, bunching your skirt up your waist and grabbing at the edge of your tights, almost yanking them down your legs.

He breaks away from your boobs, grinning as he slides down the bed.

“Fuck me, all this for me?” He questions, looking down at your panties. They’re soft pink lace, currently soaked with your arousal. He traces the pad of his thumb over the top of you and you jolt, leaning up on your arms to watch him. He’s painfully grinding against the edge of the bed as his eyes meet your own.

“Please, can I?” He asks and you nod, faster than you think you ever have. He grins again, thumb reaching to the edge of your panties and pushing them to the side. It’s lewd as he uses two fingers to spread you open, observing everything.

“Please, Rafe- touch me,” you all but beg, desperate for him to do anything. You wonder if you’re dreaming, with his unreal this feels- but then he sinks a finger into your hole and you know you’re wide awake. So, so wide awake.

You moan, his pace slow as he watches his finger sink in and out of you. “You’re a fucking dream,” he mumbles, eyes glazed over. You push your hips forward, trying to make him move faster, his other hand coming up to hold your hips.

“Not so fast, I’m enjoying this,” he says, grinning as you still try move anyway. He sinks another finger in and you moan at the stretch, hips stuttering under his hand.

“Shit, please Rafe, please,” you moan out, his pace slowing to a stop. Rafe is smirking over at you, eyes hooded, knuckle deep in you. “What do you want?” He asks, humour in his tone.

You breathe deeply, trying to move your hips again. “Please Rafe, please,”

“I’m not quite understanding, what do you want?” He asks again and you groan. “Please fuck me rafe, please,”

He grins. “I love that you’re not cocky anymore, sweetheart. Begging looks good on you.” His fingers are moving faster now, faster than you’d expected, and it shocks you. He reaches so deep, curling his fingers at the right place to make you fall back onto the bed. You can hear him rutting his hips against the bed but you don’t care, chasing your own high on his fingers.

“Such a good girl, look at you.” You hear him say, but you’re too focused and far away to actually respond. You hear him chuckle, a third finger prodding at your entrance. “Let me in, cmon, relax,” he mumbles and you do, feeling the burn and stretch from a third finger.

You feel so full, so close to the edge. Your hands grasp your sheets, whimper after whimper slipping out of your mouth. He curls his fingers in a certain spot and you cry out. “I’m gonna cum,” it’s almost a scream as Rafe shushes you, speeding up his fingers.

You finally fall off the edge, gasping and moaning as Rafe stills his hips against the bed, fingers slowing to match your clenching around them.

You finally relax, clouds at the edge of your vision.

“Fuck me,” you whisper and you hear him chuckle again, pushing your panties back to the side. You eventually sit up, leaning back on your palms.

“You were right,” you say, watching as he shuffles his pants. You don’t mention the wet spot on them.

“Oh yeah, about what?”

“You’re better,” he smiles at you, opening the bedroom door. You wonder where he’s going, why he isn’t staying- but then you remember. You just got fingered by your teacher, and he probably didn’t want to be anywhere near you.

“I’ll uh- let you out,” you awkwardly skim around him, pulling your skirt back down the hallway to the front door. Rafe’s hand captures your shoulder and he spins you around, his lips meeting your own. He kisses you for a second, before pulling back and looking at you.

“I wanna see you again.”

Notes ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Uhhhhhh hello it’s getting hot n heavy in here 🫣 more smut and more drama to come !!!

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

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Just forbidden

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no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

art 100% has crashed out over something like this

don't know what's going on with the drama in the rafe fandom, but wanna say: my account is not a safe space for trump supporters, homophobes, transphobes, racists, and zionists. idc if you don't "care for politics," i do, and everything i create is political.

FEARLESS

chapter one. eggs and fist fights

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 5.2k

warnings ⇢ curse words, mean girl talk, sexual innuendos and gestures, reader being called fatphobic names, fist fight, reading gets roughed up (not as bad as the other girl 🙌)

authors note ⇢ i haven’t written fanfiction in a very long time sadly, but i actually quite like this! sorry if there’s any mistakes, this is all written in between my days, mostly at work while im on break lol. Hope u enjoy!!

social media part at the very end!

Growing up, you were vehemently told you aren’t like other girls. You didn’t paint your nails. You didn’t like makeup. You didn’t like dressing up. You weren’t the size to be like other girls.

But you wanted to be like other girls. You wanted to giggle over a guy that had a crush on you. You wanted to shop at the same trendy places other girls went to. You wanted to follow trends. You wanted to paint your nails. You wanted to put makeup on. But you couldn’t. Your size draws enough attention to you, you can't put makeup on or dress in crop tops like other girls. And that sets you behind a lot.

Like now, your friend is happily giggling about prom. Prom. The night every girl in Kildare Academy has been dreaming of. Where they’ll rent limos, go out to eat at expensive restaurants, go to landmarks and take gorgeous pictures to post on twitter and reminisce about later on in life. But you can’t think of it positively. All those dress fittings. Hair put in updos that will only showcase your round face, dates that you can’t get.

“Jonah’s definitely going to ask me.” The mention of Jonah piques your interest. The stunning looks of your closest friend always catches your breath. Her stunning blue eyes, her perfectly smooth skin that’s always got a natural tan to it, blonde locs that look effortless no matter what she’s been up to.

The day Scarlett decided to be your friend was a day worth remembering. No one wanted to be friends with the weird pogue girl who was suddenly shoved into the Kook world. You had been eating lunch all by yourself for weeks, at the very end of the cafeteria until she came along and told you your jeans were ugly. You thought she was bullying you. But she kept talking. And talking. And you two just stuck.

“Jonah’s asking you to prom?” You speak after a few quiet moments. Jonah Carpenter. The hottest guy in school. The quarterback. The typical high school stereotype. Only, he’s not dating the head cheerleader. Scarlett’s been pining after Jonah since the eighth grade but the guy was always in his own world to pay attention to any girls.

And maybe that’s what drew you in. He wasn’t like the other guys in the academy. He cared about his grades. He gave his all to the sport he was passionate about. He wasn’t about lame hookups and harsh words like the other guys on the football team. He smiled at you while others sneered. He didn’t see you at all. Which is a lot better than the way other guys see you. You prefer it this way, even if late at night you picture romantic scenarios that you would die to share with him.

Scarlett nods, fixing her lip gloss using the mirror in her locker. Her makeup is flawless as usual, which sends another pang of envy to you. “I’ve been in his DM’s for weeks. I think I’m breaking down his walls.”

Your eyebrows rise at this. “He actually responded to you?” The look she sends you makes you tense. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Scar. He’s just… him, you know? The last girlfriend he had was in the seventh grade.”

Scarlett shakes her head, waving you off, your words going in one ear and out the other. “I just have to wear him down. Men don’t know what they want until a woman tells them.”

Your nose scrunches at her words, reminding you of your mother. But you can’t say it didn’t work. She was a poor teen mom from the cut one day and married to the second richest man on the island the next. And there’s no better hustler than your mother.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as she shuts her locker and pulls the strap of her bag up some more on her shoulder. “Look, you said it, he’s him. He’s a little dimwitted and oblivious.” You want to fight her words. He’s not. He’s smart. And kind. But it’d seem silly to do so. You’ve never had a single conversation with him and she’d point it out to you. “He just needs to realize I’m the girl for him.”

“Right.” You try to hide the judgement in your voice as the two walk side by side. The bell signaling the end of the day had rang a while ago but Scarlett had to stay behind for a cheer team meeting and she was your ride. Scarlett’s talking about god knows what as you make it out of the prestigious school, the sun belting down on the two of you.

The plaid uniform skirt you’re forced to wear blows in the wind but you pay no mind to it. You wear your uniform the way that an upright teacher would present to the school as a good example. Frumpy. Scarlet accessorizes her uniform. She rolls her skirt up at the top, showcasing her long and pretty legs. Cute buttons on her shirt that fits her perfectly.

“Sarah!” Scarlett’s loud and chirpy voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Sarah Cameron. Kook Princess. The perfect example of another effortlessly beautiful girl in Kildare. Sarah’s stunning hair blows with the wind as she waves to the two of you. You don’t respond, not when it’s meant for Scarlett.

The two of you walked over to the girl who was standing with her own friends. Her smile is bright and endearing, yours is awkward as you stand with her and your best friend. “Did you see the prom announcement?!” Scarlett squeals happily. “God, I’m so excited! Are you bringing Topper?”

Sarah shrugs and that catches your attention. They’ve been the talk of the academy for weeks. The top couple. The IT couple. They had been flirting for a while and made it official just a month ago. Scarlett had complained about it. Said the title should be for her as the head cheerleader. “Ugh, what? Are you guys fighting? But you’re so cute!” Her voice makes that high pitched tone that tells you she’s lying. She vies for the attention and title that Sarah holds.

“What about you?” You stare at her blankly until Scarlett nudges your side. This snaps you out of it, eyes widening for a split second.

“Uhm… sorry, were you talking to me?” You ask a little loudly, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sarah lets out an amused laugh, nodding. “Duh, are you going to prom?”

You’re about to answer but Scarlett beats you to it. “No, she’s not. It’s not her thing, like, at all. I think she’s allergic to makeup.”

Your eyebrows furrow at her rude words, the energy turning awkward as Sarah looks between the two of you with a curious look. “Well… your thing can change, right? I hope to see—“

A loud honk of a car horn makes you jump in your spot, eyes turning to the source. “Sarah, get your ass in the car!” A strong voice calls out to the girl you were speaking to. A familiar grey truck was pulled in the parking lot, engine still running but the windows down to get a good view of the man.

Rafe Cameron.

Your mother tells you to get together with a rich Kook every single day. Begs you of it, actually. But Rafe is out of bounds. He’s trouble. Danger. Too much baggage, she whispers to you at Kook events. His reputation follows him like a shadow. Coke head. Drinker. Parties too much. Always at odds with his family.

You spoke to him once. You didn’t share many classes with him because he was two years ahead of you but your mandatory Spanish class was a mixture of all the grades. He asked for a pencil. He didn’t ask, actually, reached for the pencil on your desk and said he would be using it. You’ve silently held that against him for two years.

“Wait, Rafe!” Sarah yells back to him and it stuns you how little she cares about the eyes on her.

“Stop chit chatting and get the fuck in!” He yells back. You feel incredibly awkward. Maybe it’s the fact that you never had any siblings but this feels too… private to be doing out in public.

Scarlett and you share a look, one that speaks many words between the two of you. “Why are you being a dick?!” Sarah’s words make you speak up.

“Uhm… we should go.” You take a hold of Scarlett’s arm but she shakes her head as she scrolls through her phone.

“Fuck, one of the girls needs my help on our routine.” These words make you frown.

“But you’re my ride.” You sigh.

“You can ride with me.” Sarah’s words send a shiver of fear down your spine. The idea of getting in a car with Rafe Cameron terrified you.

“N-no, that’s fine. Really, I’ll—“ Scarlett interrupts you. Again.

“Don’t be silly, ___, you live too far to walk. Just accept.”

Sarah nods with a kind smile as she loops her arm with yours as if you two were friends. But you can’t be mean. Sarah starts dragging you away and you look back at Scarlett with a look of fear. You mouth a few words to her, begging her to save you. She just laughs you off, making a lewd motion with her two hands and mouth. You regret every telling her about your one sided beef with Rafe, now she’s running with it.

“Sarah, really, I’m fine.” You try to beg her. “I can, I can call my step-dad, really.”

“No, no, no need to bother him when my brother can take you home.”

Your heart stops when you stop at his car door. “You’re taking my friend home.”

You hear him scoff. “I’m not a fucking Uber.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, she lives far away.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Sarah. Get in.”

“Not unless she can.”

“Oh my god—“

“You’re gonna let a girl walk all the way home by herself and possibly be murdered—“

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up and get in the car! Both of you!”

You’re tense as you get in his truck. Your hands shake as you put your seatbelt on, unsure of what to say or what to do. This is the most awkward and anxiety inducing situation you’ve ever been put in. “Where do you live?” He questions roughly making you look up at him with a look of fear. He’s looking straight ahead at the road as he starts driving off.

“H-Hill-Hillary Hills.” The second biggest house in the OBX. Of course, the Cameron’s own the biggest. They own the biggest everything. Like yourself, your step-father seems to be in one sided competition with a Cameron.

This makes him look up into his rear view mirror and for the first time in the last two years, you two make eye contact. His eyes are strong, holding what seems to be very little emotion. You feel put on the spot, like there’s a limelight on you. You tear your eyes away and let them flitter around his truck.

“Your mom’s that MILF that’s always hitting on everyone?” A frown immediately falls onto your lips at his words, feeling the anxiety waft through you in waves.

“Rafe, are you fucking serious?” Sarah snaps at her older brother as you bite your bottom lip over how damn shitty that feels.

You can hear Rafe scoff but you can’t look at him. You want to be let out of this damn truck. You can’t breathe.

“Shit, I didn’t know you’d be sensitive about it. My bad.” His words feel like glass in your skin. You need to leave.

Sarah wants to cut the tension, clearly, so she speaks up. “Scarlett’s kind of a bitch.”

You shrug gently, hands holding onto the seat belt tight. “She can be… but she means well.”

You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks. “Who’s Scarlett?”

“Mind your business.” Sarah snaps at him before smiling over at you. “If I tell you something, would you hate me?”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to hear it. It can’t be any good. But your curiosity wins. You nod, urging her to go on. “She was talking shit about you last week.”

Your blood runs cold. Your face falls and you’re sure you look unbelievably pale. Your best friend. The girl you thought was by your side, always, isn’t? “What did she say?” You ask with a small clear of your throat.

Sarah bites her bottom lip nervously as her eyes flicker around your face. “Do you really want to know what she said?”

You nod, trying your hardest not to look over at Rafe who’s eyes keep flickering over to you through the rear view mirror. “She said you were a scared loser who was just dragging her down. Said something about how you… you let your insecurities slow you down.”

“Jesus, Sarah.” You’re surprised to hear Rafe speak up about this.

She scoffs and smacks his arm. “It’s not like I said it about her. I actually defended you.” She looks over at you with a sad smile.

“Is… is that all she said?” Maybe you were naive to think that she really was your friend. But five years of constant hangouts, sleepovers, and long talks, you thought she’d feel something for you.

“I don’t feel comfortable repeating the other things she said.” Sarah admits and your stomach churns. You need to throw up.

“Now that shits gonna eat her up alive. Just tell her, instigator.” You can’t even pay attention to Rafe as he speaks.

“She said you were a big bitch who could crush anyone you come near. I mean… I think she meant the last part metaphorically. Oh my god, I’m horrible. I swear I don’t… I don’t think of you as—“

But you laugh. You laugh out loud. You can’t help it. The fucking irony. She spent countless nights crying to you about how she feels like a failure. How she can’t do anything in life correctly. And she thinks you crush people? She’s a fucking vulture and you can’t stop laughing.

Rafe and Sarah share a look before turning back to you. “You’re insane.” Rafe is the one to say such a thing to you but you can’t stop.

“Holy shit,” you cackle, wiping the tears of laughter that had fallen. You can’t even find it in yourself to be sad. You’re mad. You're enraged. You went around defending her, loving her and supporting her and she goes around and talks shit about you? You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anger like this. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You can tell the girl is being honest and you just nod and shrug. This visibly confused Sarah. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.” Is your plain and simple answer. What are you supposed to do? Fight her? Trash talk her on social media? There’s nothing you can do.

Rafe’s loud scoff reverberates throughout the truck. “Your best friend was talking shit about you and you’re not going to do a single goddamn thing?”

Your attention turns to him, eyes meeting through his rearview mirror before he focuses on the road. “What am I supposed to do?”

Rafe sighs like this is a problem for him. As if he’s in your position. This bothers you. To have him be so bothered for you and annoyed at you is irksome. And if you were a bigger person, you’d speak up. But you’re not, so you stay silent.

“Scarlett Hillcrest, right?”

Sarah confirms his question by nodding. And he makes a u-turn. This raises some alarms within you. “What are you doing?” You speak in an almost panic.

“We just passed her house.”

“How do you know where Scarlett lives?” Sarah questions her brother in the front seat.

He shrugs and speaks nonchalantly. “I hooked up with her sister.”

Sarah makes a dramatic gagging sound and pretends to throw up all over his truck. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the drama she exudes. You never thought Sarah would be so… funny.

Rafe pulls up the house that you spent countless days inside of. The place where you ate dinner with her parents and siblings. Where you shared your deepest and darkest secrets to each other. And you start to feel that sadness creeping in. But it’s shoved away when Rafe tosses something at you and luckily, you catch it in time.

“Is this an egg?” The question tumbles out with a ludicrous tone.

“Why do you have eggs in your car?” Sarah laughs as she grabs a few as well.

Rafe shrugs lamely, “Rose made me pick some up on the way to pick you up.” The cars fully stopped moving and Rafe’s looking at you. He’s not glaring. Or trying to get a read of you. He’s just looking at you. And this oddly makes you feel confident. At this moment, he’s on your side. The scariest guy in all of Kildare is going to help you egg your ex-best friend's house. “Ready?”

And for the first time in your pathetic and less than thrilling life, you speak with confidence. “I’m ready.”

Your hand meets his as he helps you out of the truck, feet touching the ground, ugly plaid skirt fluttering around you. Sarah is snickering behind you, happily tagging along. The three of you don’t walk too far from his truck, for a quicker run back into it. “You should do the honors.” Sarah smiles at you. A genuine smile. Unlike the smiles that Scarlett gave you, full of pity and contempt.

You stare at the colonial home. The perfect lawn. The sunflowers and tulips that the two of you had planted to placate her mother about getting some sun. You two had giggled the afternoon away, even throwing some soil at each other and having to hose off outside. It was all fake. And a rage overcomes you. You grab two eggs and you throw them at her house. They land in two gross splats high up on her walls.

You laugh. A real and infectious laugh as Sarah tags along and starts throwing more and more eggs along with you. It’s surprising to you that even Rafe is egging this house alongside you and his sister. There’s a small turn to his lips but you can’t decipher whether it’s a real smile or not.

You don’t realize how close to the house you’ve gotten until the front door is swung open and out comes Scarlett’s mother. “Hey, you imbeciles!” She screeched.

“Fuck! Run! Run! Run!” Sarah laughs as you all turn and start running back to Rafe’s truck. Sarah easily jumps into the backseat of his truck and you’re almost there with her. At the last second, your shoe slips off and you land on the floor. You can’t even feel embarrassed as you turn to see that her mother is gaining on you guys.

The last thing you expected was a pair of strong arms around you, lifting you up. Actually lifting you up off the floor. It’s not just a tug. Rafe Cameron has picked you up off the floor, your feet not touching the floor. You have no time to think about this any longer when he helps you in the car. He slams the door and you see him disappear for a second before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off. You turn in your seat and manage to see Mrs. Hillcrest run off into the street and shout at the leaving truck.

“That was…” Sarah breaks the silence. “So much fucking fun!” She starts loudly laughing.

Your heart is beating hard and fast. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not anxious. You don’t feel bad. You feel good. So damn good. Laughter begins to bubble out of you and the two of you fall into each other in a complete fit. You two can barely talk in between the laughter but you still share funny anecdotes, your sides aching.

A familiar shoe falls into your lap and you look up and over at Rafe who you had genuinely forgotten was there. “Feel better?” Your eyes meet his again and you don’t feel nervous like before. You don’t want to run away. Being in his truck feels freeing, no longer suffocating.

“Way better.” Your smile is bright as you answer him.

—

You had blocked Scarlett on every platform you had her on, severing all ties. You had cried while doing it when the adrenaline of egging her house left your body. To have someone you cared for deeply not care for you at all was a pain you never wanted to experience again.

Getting to school that morning filled you with dread but it had to be done. The idea of being alone, of no longer having her by your side was scary but you didn’t have that little self-respect. She hated you while all you did was love her. It was embarrassing.

“Uhm, what the fuck?” Scarlett had been leaning on your locker, standing up straight as she saw you. Her face is twisted up in confusion and anger. “You fucking blocked me on everything?”

You sigh as you stand across from her, a hand holding onto the strap of your backpack unbelievably tight. It feels like your only lifeline right now. “That’s what one does when you find out your friend is a lying bitch.” The words just slip out of you. You can’t control them. You can’t hold back. Not anymore.

Scarlett’s eyes widen and she gapes her mouth, like a fish out of water. Usually, you’d rush to her. Take care of her when she’s like this. But you can’t, not without looking even more pathetic. “What does that even mean? What the fuck did I do?”

“It means that I won’t drag you down anymore.” You throw her words back at her. “This big and insecure bitch won’t bother you anymore. Sound familiar?”

It visibly takes Scarlett a few seconds to catch up to what you’re saying. And you see her face fall. And for a second, you feel bad. And then she speaks. “What? Come on, I said that out of anger. You pissed me off that morning and I was just venting.”

“That’s how you vent about your best friend?” You scoff, the pity you felt for a moment being crushed and dusted away. “By calling her fat? Spewing hate about her?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the same.”

“I haven’t!” You snap, the anger now radiating off of you. People are watching now. Trying to get a good listen. “I’ve never talked badly about you because you were my best friend! Did you get on my nerves? Obviously, that’s bound to happen when you spend every day together but I’ve never disrespected you or called you names to others!”

“Okay, I get it.” Scarlett’s eyes nervously look around the two of you, clearly not wanting anyone to get into it with people around. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

You’re looking at the girl you held so close to your heart and you don’t recognize her any longer. All those days together catch up to you. Her snide remarks about your choice of meal at restaurants. The digs about how she can share clothes with her other friends. Her skinny friends. You had romanticized your friendship because you were scared of not having any. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You’re sorry that I found out you were talking shit about me?”

“Well…” she sighs loudly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “What do you want me to say? I was angry. It just came out!” Now it’s clear that they’re arguing and everyone has stopped to watch.

And you feel that wave of anger coming back. All the love. All the memories. They’re squashed. Looking around at the group, you let out a scoff. You point to a girl in your math class. “She calls you Tammy DumpTruck.” You point to a guy. “She calls you pepperoni.” She points to another girl. “She made out with your boyfriend and then lied to you when you cried to her.” Your eyes meet Jonah, his green eyes watching you the entire time. “And she doesn’t really like you. She's just using you because she thinks being with the quarterback will up her social status. She called you dimwitted and oblivious yesterday!”

Scarlett scoffs loudly, laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I call you a mean name and you start fucking exposing me?” She shoves your shoulder, your back back falling to the ground in a loud thud. There are murmurs around the two of you, no doubt already gossiping about the mean crap you exposed. “You think you’re so fucking innocent? You sat and listened to it all! Not once did you stand up for them while I said all this shit!”

Angrily, you shove her shoulders right back, her bag falling to the floor now. “Because you would bully me too! What the fuck was I supposed to do? You kept me on a leash like a fucking puppy!”

She shoves you again. “Oh, shut up, whiney bitch! You loved being my puppy! It’s the only way anyone ever knew you existed! You’d be nothing without me! You *are* nothing without me! Leaving my side is going to be the worst thing you’ve ever done! You’re gonna be a fucking weirdo loser with no friends!”

You shove her again and she’s pushed up against the lockers. She’s enraged but so are you. And there’s loud cheering around you two. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Kids chant.

“And you’re going to be a trophy wife who will never achieve anything in life!” You yell right back at her. Low blow. She would tell you that was her biggest fear. But she knew yours too and she used it to talk behind your back. In your angered and muddled head, this was an eye for an eye. “You better enjoy the rest of your high school career because that’s the only time you’ll ever matter!”

“You stupid skank!” And hands are flying. She pushes you, smacking you. You shove her off of you and manage to get her to fall onto the floor, only she drags you with her. Now, the two of you are punching each other. Pulling hair. Scratching. You feel a pair of arms wrap around you while someone else tugs Scarlett off of you.

Scarlett’s screeching like a wild animal, wanting to be let go to keep fighting you. She's got a few scratches on her face, lip and nose bleeding. And you’re not any better, the same scratches, hair wild and your single nostril bleeding.

“Fake bitch!” You call out as you’re dragged away from her.

—

The sound of the phones ringing in the office is what’s keeping you at bay. The principal had called your mother but she didn’t pick up. Now, your step-father is on his way over to pick you up and sign a form to solidify your two week suspension. You’re not scared of your step-father. He’s more scared of you than anything but you are scared of your mother finding out. And you’re not ready whatsoever.

A soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “You look like you need this.” You look up and meet the pair of green eyes you’ve fantasized over.

Jonah is smiling softly at you. His plump lips turned up. Eyes crinkled gently. A wave of nervousness washes over you and you can’t speak as he holds out an ice pack for you. Shakily, you take it and place it on your forehead, the tender part that’s already bruising.

“Did she really say all that?” He breaks the silence as he stays standing across from where you sit on the office chair.

Gently, you nod. “Y-yeah.” Your voice cracks but you’re too tired and aching to care about it.

“Woah… I knew she wasn’t nice but I didn’t think she was a… bully.” He lets out a shaky laugh. You can’t look away from him while he speaks, not until he looks at you and you divert your eyes.

“Yeah… uhm… I didn’t even realize how shitty she was until… until yesterday.” You comment, leg bouncing up and down.

He takes this as his sign to take a seat next to you. You slowly scoot away from him, feeling shy and exposed with him. Even more so knowing that he saw it all. And how you spoke to him.

“I just… it’s funny that she thinks I’m the oblivious one, you know? She kept flirting with me through DM’s and I kept rejecting her and she wouldn’t take a hint. It was just kind of ironic.”

You snort out a laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. She got mad that I used her insecurity against her but I was supposed to be fine with her using mine.”

He exhales another small laugh. “Yeah. You guys… are ruthless.”

A small grin falls onto your lips, bringing the ice pack to your bruised lip to hide it from him. It’s silent again. It’s awkward. He clears her throat and speaks again, “I thought it was cool.”

You glance over at him with raised brows, breath quickening when his green eyes meet yours. “What you did. I thought it was cool.” The way his eyes flicker across her face, taking her in, makes her leg bounce more.

“Your mother is going to kill you.” The sound of your step-fathers voice cuts through your shared moment with Jonah.

Quickly, you hop up out of your chair and rush up to him. “Oh my god, Anthony. There has to be a way we can hide this. Please. Please. She’s going to murder me. This beating is going to be nothing compared to what she’ll do to me.”

The older man sighs loudly, rubbing the empty spot between his eyebrows. “Honey, your face is… messed up. God, how good did that little snob get you?” His hand falls to your chin, moving your head around to take a good look at the damage.

You scoff at his words and jokingly bring your fists up as if prepared to fight him. “You should see her face. More busted than mine.”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a playful smile on his face. “Okay, Ninja, let’s go.”

social media part!

FREAK LIKE ME .ᐟ

summary: you’re all leopard print, cherry lip glosses and the prettiest thing art donaldson had ever saw in his life. but behind all that, you might be the biggest sex freak he also had the pleasure to meet. inspiration: freak by doja cat.

pairing: dilf ceo art donaldson x younger fem reader.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.6k words. kinda plot kinda not. use of the word “daddy” sexually. mention of c!ckwarming. fem self-touching. slight chocking. oral s!x fem receiving. escort kinda reader.

You were a walking temptation from the very first moment he saw you.

Smiling with that sticky-sweet gloss coating your lips, gum popping lazily between your teeth, a leopard print dress hugging every curve like sin itself. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors with every step, too high to be anything but unholy. You looked like a reward, like a treat—something made to be admired and ruined in equal measure.

Art Donaldson, forty-one, CEO, and already a man who had seen more than his fair share of pretty things, couldn’t help the way you caught his attention that night. Maybe it was the way you laughed too easily, how you tilted your head when he talked about business, all wide-eyed and sugary sweet, like you were just a little confused but so eager to learn. Maybe it was the way you wrapped your hand around his arm, all flirty and innocent, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

He should’ve known then—what kind of monster you really were underneath all that pink and pout.

But he didn’t. Not until you showed up at his place one night with nothing but that same gloss, a fur-trimmed coat, and matching panties that disappeared under the hem of a dress so short it could have been a belt. Not until you crawled into his lap and asked, in that breathy baby voice, “Can I just warm myself on your cock while we watch this, Daddy? I promise I won’t move…”

And he had said yes. Of course he had.

You were his weakness. A real, living indulgence. His little bunny.

He took you to dinners with his associates like a proud fucking trophy, watching them all try not to stare when you crossed your legs too slowly or licked sugar from the rim of your martini glass. You'd whisper something ridiculous in his ear—do they know I don’t wear panties when I’m with you, Daddy?—and he’d have to clench his jaw not to drag you under the table and shut you up with his fingers.

You were smart, and he knew it. Smarter than you let on. All that dizzy sweetness? The pouty lips and dumb-little-girl act? A weapon. A way to make him melt; say yes, buy you things, bend over backwards just for a chance to hear you whimper please again.

God, you were his undoing. And tonight? Tonight, you were in rare form.

He found you in his library, curled up in the window seat pretending to read some leather-bound novel you’d picked out just for show. One of his favorites—he knew you weren’t even five pages in. Not with your legs spread the way they were, one heel kicked off and the other dangling from your toes. No panties. Of course.

You were touching yourself, slow and lazy, like you were waiting for him to notice.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stood in the doorway, watching the slow movement of your fingers between your legs. You were slick already—he could see it from here.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You looked up from the book like you were surprised. Like he’d interrupted something terribly important. “I missed you,” you said, all sweet and breathless. “Needed a little help getting through this part…”

He was in front of you in seconds, yanking the book from your lap and tossing it across the room like it was worthless. His hand was around your throat next, not tight, just enough to tilt your head back and make you look at him.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he growled, thumb dragging across your bottom lip, pushing past it like he owned your mouth. “Always teasing. Always playing dumb. You think I don’t know what you’re doing, doll?”

You moaned around his thumb, eyes fluttering as drool slid past your lips.

He shoved you back into the cushions and dropped to his knees, tearing your thighs apart like he’d been starved for days. And maybe he had. Maybe it had only been hours since he last had you, but with you, it never felt like enough.

He buried his mouth in your warmth without a word, lapping at your sweetness like you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. You tasted like need, like candy and sin and everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

And you made the prettiest sounds—high, desperate whines, hips bucking into his face despite your shaky little hands trying to be good, trying not to move. Trying to not tug on his hair to bring his head closer and closer to where you wanted him the most.

“Daddy—Daddy, I was just—oh fuck, please,” you gasped, head thrown back as he sucked your clit between his lips, relentless. The pleasure felt like a sin.

“Quiet,” he growled, voice muffled. “You wanted to be a brat, now you take what I give you.”

You came like that after a moment—fast and messy, thighs trembling, lips parted to gasp. Art got up from the floor while licking his lips, moved you from the window seat by picking you up, letting you rest onto his lap where it was the most comfortable.

Your lashes fluttered as you leaned into him, curled on his lap like you belonged there—because you did. You always did.

His fingers slid up your thigh, not to tease this time, but to just feel. Possessive. Big hand gripping you tight. You sighed like a spoiled kitten, satisfied to be right where you wanted to be: draped over Art Donaldson like you were his prize, his good girl, his best mistake.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you murmured, voice barely above a pout, head tipping back to catch his eyes. “Like you’re about to eat me up.”

He smirked, thumb brushing along the corner of your sticky lip gloss coated mouth. “Because I might do, again.”

You giggled, but there was a flush in your cheeks that betrayed how badly you loved it. How desperately you loved him—that dark, commanding look he gave you when the world melted away. When it was just you and him. Your age didn’t matter. Your fake ditzy act didn’t matter. The whispers, the disapproval, the stares from women who wished they were in your place—they didn’t matter either.

None of it mattered when Art looked at you like you were the only thing that could bring him to his knees. “Was it always like this?” you whispered against his jaw. “With the others?”

He stilled, brows furrowing slightly, and that quiet weight settled in his chest again. He tilted your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. “No, doll. Not even close.” And you believed him. You always had.

Because no one else got this part of him. The man who’d built an empire from steel and stones now crumbled with just a look from you. His patience unraveled when you kissed the underside of his jaw. His control broke when you wore something too short just to test him. And God, you loved to test him.

“You ruin me,” he said lowly, against your temple. “And I let you.”

You smiled, smug and soft, because you knew it was true. You were his weak spot. His sin. The pretty little thing he should’ve resisted—but never could.

And deep down, you liked the way he broke his own rules for you. How he brought you into rooms you didn’t belong in and dared anyone to question it. How he kissed your shoulder in passing at business dinners, fingers grazing the back of your thigh like a promise only you understood.

Art Donaldson didn’t need a reason to spoil you. He didn’t need an excuse to fly you somewhere just to watch you twirl in front of him in another too-tight dress. He never asked why you were always pushing boundaries—because the truth was, he loved it.

He loved your chaos. Your softness. Your hunger. And maybe, just maybe… you loved him too.

You didn’t say it. Not out loud. But the way your fingers curled into his shirt said enough. The way your nose nuzzled into his neck said everything. That greedy, bratty girl who made him lose his mind was also the one who made him feel like a man again—not just a name behind magazines or a suit in a boardroom.

“Come home with me,” he said quietly. You blinked, surprised. “I already live with you.”

“No,” he said, voice rough now, like he was trying not to say too much. “I mean it. Come home with me. Let me show you I’m serious. I want… more than this.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, mascara still a little smudged from earlier sins. “More?”

He nodded, thumb tracing your cheek like he was memorizing it. “All of it. Not just the games. Not just the sex. I want you in my bed every night, not just when you’re bored or bratty or begging. I want you mine—for real.”

You swallowed hard. And maybe you should’ve played dumb again. Teased him. Danced around the words like you always did. But instead, you nodded. “Okay.”

Art leaned in and kissed you then—not with the filthy heat of earlier, but something deeper. Slower. As if he was making a vow with his mouth pressed to yours. You could still taste your essence from his lips, and almost moaned at it.

You were still his freak. His bunny. His good girl in leopard heels and too much perfume. But now, you were something else, too. His future. And he’d never let you forget it.