siennawrites-blog

[siennawrites-blog]

─── SHOW-OFF ♡

♡ pairing: ex-husband!rafe x married!reader

♡ summary: your ex-husband outshines your current husband at your birthday.

♡ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, unprotected piv, cheating, car sex, reader having an asshole husband. MDNI! wc: 1.5k

♡ author's note: another 5k fic!! it’s been a while since i wrote them… oops!

RAFE MASTERLIST ♡ 5K MASTERLIST

"awww, thank you!" you exclaimed when your husband handed you the glimmering silver bracelet. even though every piece of jewelry you owned was golden, you couldn't fault will too much; he was a busy man, it was understandable that he wouldn't spend his time paying attention to something as silly as what your jewelry looked like.

leo looked over the necklace with a critical eye, narrowing the blue eyes he got from your ex-husband, his little nose turnt up at the velvet box, "that looks cheap." the little boy stated, his arms crossed. "what?" your husband scoffed as if the young boy had personally offended him, "you're a kid, you don't know about things like this, leo." one tug on the sleeve of your blouse and your attention was back on your son, the little boy clad in a button-up shirt, looking so much like his father..

"leo." you let out a quiet sigh, looking around at the crowd around you, your birthday party in full swing, not wanting to make a scene. you brought a hand to rest on top of leo's head, stroking his hair. " that's not a kind thing to say."

"daddy would've gotten you a better gift." the little boy grumbled, haughtily looking between his stepfather and the gift he'd just given to you; you couldn't help the way your lips twitched up slightly; the older he got, leo started reminding more and more of his father, and it seemed that included having expensive taste.

"i love it." you smile, taking will's hand into yours, a cocky smile taking over his offended expression, "i'm glad you do, baby."

you'd been socializing with your guests, thanking them for coming and accepting 'happy birthday's, until the bustle of the party was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, your brows raising in surprise, only for your young son to make his way to the front door, exclaiming "i'll get it, i'll get it!" over and over again while you went to will, your dear husband sporting surprised look on his face, not too different from the one on yours.

you felt your breath get stuck in your throat when the man who gave your son his steely, blue eyes was standing next to him, a smile on his face as he held up a present.

“happy birthday.”

you hadn't seen rafe since your... slip-up a month ago; whenever you were supposed to take leo to his father, you'd asked the girl who occasionally babysat for you. now, here he was, standing right in front of you, and you couldn't stop thinking of his limbs tangled with yours on the bed you shared with your husband, of his lips all over your body, of him inside of you-

"rafe." you mutter weakly, "what... what are you doing here?" "oh." rafe's hand went to scratch the back of his head, the man's golden wedding band still on his ring finger, whereas you now wore a ring given to you by another, "i guess... i guess leo was lying when he told me you'd asked him to invite me, huh?"

"yes, he was." will said with a cold, defensive voice, his hand possessively tugging you into his side, "you should probably leave."

"rafe, can i talk to you?" you detached yourself from will's grip, turning to him with an apologetic look, "this'll just take a minute." you mumbled, before going over to rafe and wrapping your hand around his wrist, pulling him into the other room as onlookers exchanged curious, conspiratorial looks.

"why are you here?" you ask once you've tugged rafe into the kitchen, pulling the door closed behind you. "i told you, leo told me-" "oh, i know you didn't believe a word he said. he's not that good of a liar." you crossed your arms in front of your chest. rafe sighed, bringing his calloused hand to trail the soft skin of your arm, goosebumps appearing on your skin in the wake of his touch.

"you keep avoiding me." rafe mumbled almost pleadingly, "we slept together and now you pretend i don't exist." "that-" you gritted your teeth, looking away from him, "that was a mistake. that should've never happened, and it's never gonna happen again."

rafe let out a low chuckle, pressing close to you, "you don't really believe that, do you? 'cause if you did... you wouldn't be avoiding me. but you are, because you're afraid that when we're alone..."

rafe brought his lips close to your ears, his words turning into a husky whisper, "you're gonna end up in bed with me again. and again. and again."

rafe pressed his lips on your cheeks for an almost chaste kiss before pulling back, yet you could still feel his heat surrounding you. he took your hand, pressing a gift box on the palm of your hand.

"if you're so sure that nothing's ever gonna happen between us again, you should come see me tonight." rafe tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a fond, challenging smile on his lips "how about you wear that red set you know i love, hm? i'll park across the street at 12."

you felt your cheeks warm up even as rafe pulled away and walked out of the kitchen. you opened the gift box, revealing a golden locket. when you opened it, you felt your heart squeeze in your chest. it was a picture of you, rafe, and leo while you and rafe were still married.

how did he manage to get your to heart to flutter no matter what he did?

you leaned on the doorway, clad in your silky pink nightgown, listening to the soft snores your husband let out. you rubbed your calf with the back of your foot, massaging moisturizer onto your hands, your brows stuck in a furrow, deep in thought. you could get into bed, snuggle up to your husband, go to sleep…

you looked to the alarm clock on your bedside table. five minutes past midnight. five minutes after twelve. you looked to your dressing table, at the golden locket, your mind drifting to the way rafe had looked at you, the way he smiled at you…

you shouldn't. you should go to bed. next to the husband who loves you. you shouldn't put on the locket your former husband gave you. you shouldn't pull on the robe that matched your nightgown and rush downstairs and put your shoes on.

and you most definitely shouldn't rush outside and make your way to the range rover you knew belonged to rafe. but before you could even question the commands your heart were giving you, your body had decided to dismiss the advice your brain was trying to give you, and you found yourself straddling rafe in the backseat of his truck, the car filling with the sounds of your heavy breathing mixing in with his, rushed hands working to undress one another, until you finally felt the head of rafe's cock being pressed against your clit, the sweet friction causing pleasure to pool in your lower stomach.

your hand found his when rafe positioned his cock at your entrance, fingers intertwining the moment you let yourself sink down on his cock, a loud moan leaving your lips.

thunder roared outside of the car but the sounds of rafe's lips on yours was somehow louder, "i knew you wouldn't be able to resist..." rafe breathed out, a whine leaving your lips as he moved you up and down on his cock, your walls practically molding themselves into the shape of his cock. "fuck, always feel so good..." rafe whispered, "like you're made for me..."

you continued riding him, chasing the pleasure that only rafe managed to give you, enjoying the feelings only he managed to tease out of you. "god, rafe..." you let out breathlessly.

"come on, baby..." rafe's hand slid down to your clit, drawing patterns on the throbbing bud with his thumb, "tell me you're only made for me... tell me you want me and no one else..."

rafe's thrusts grew more intense, more purposeful the longer you were quiet for, his cock kissing your cervix as if it would draw those words out of you, until finally he stilled his hips inside of you and paused the movements of his finger, a loud whine leaving your lips. "tell me..." he mumbled against your swollen lips, "tell me, or i'm not gonna keep going..."

"i'm made just for you..." you brought your lips to his for a gentle peck, "i don't want anyone else but you..." "yeah, you're all mine..." rafe mumbled against your lips, his hips starting to thrust up into you all over again.

and thirty minutes later, when you slipped into the bed you shared with your clueless, sleeping husband, looking to the man with rafe's cum still inside of you after he'd fucked it up into you, whispering about how it was proof you're all his, you couldn't help but think that the words were true.

TAGLIST: @raahosh @nemesyaaa @purpleplumpudding @littlelamy @dollyfiles @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @fratbrochrisgf @ariieeesworld @silkylovey @izumis-salty-penis @flow33didontsmoke @cameronsbabydoll @love-ella333 @haylorbestie @k4yr14 @harringtonsbowgirl @lacelottie @st8rkey @lunaleah @cicicavill7 @lillied31 @doremimosasol @lerclec @deeninadream @digitaldiary111 @constantsadness

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[siennawrites-blog]

you hear an unreleased future song rattling the ground with its bass before you even see rafe cameron’s truck.

unreleased future. you want to laugh, really — you bite the corner of your bottom lip and swallow a tonne of lipgloss just to avoid it because you don’t want him to see your smile and mistake it for excitement. he didn’t deserve it. you hide your amusement by shaking your head, tapping your kitten heel as he throws his vehicle into a haphazard reverse to park up beside you. unreleased future. like he’s a teenage lana fan or something.

rafe squints out the window of the passenger side, leaning over to look you over, eyes lingering on your thighs for a second longer when he spots that you’re wearing a skirt. shit, maybe you were easy. it had been months since you’d seen him. it had been months since you dumped him.

as he glances over you his lips are parted in that classically boyish rafe-like way that made you feel something weird in your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a while. you bury it immediately, reminding yourself to stand on business.

“you uhh — gonna get in? or y’gonna keep standing there… acting like you don’t want to.” he forces his lips into a tight sarcastic smile and you roll your eyes. always the charmer.

the sun set pretty fast and it’s getting dark already as the two of you speed along a bridge. the musics too loud and he’s driving too fast like he always did — setting your nerves on edge. reaching forward, you pinch the volume nozzle with your manicured fingers and violently turn it left, turning it down a considerable amount before flopping back in your seat pointedly. rafe smirks, unabashed and open. you haven’t changed a damn bit.

“i thought you wanted to talk.” you find yourself still raising your voice a little to be heard over the hum of the car.

“jesus, i do — alright.” he’s quick to snap, but when you look at him, there’s lines on his cheeks and he’s laughing, which oddly softens you slightly.

“okay… well… i wouldn’t have been able to hear you.” you’re still defensive, albeit a little calmer.

“m’pulling up to our spot. if that’s alright with you. your highness.” he shakes his head, spinning the car round the corner to the empty lot that overlooks the water. your heart drops a little at the memories here. talking, laughing, fucking, arguing. it was always here.

he unfastens his seatbelt and stretches, hands on his buzzed head as he stares out at the tranquil waves. “shit… had some good times here, huh?” he croons. you know of all the times here you just pondered on which times he was thinking of. you swallow.

shamefully, not much talking happens next. some drone about how he’s a better man, getting his shit together and all that jazz. it feels like a rehearsed speech of sorts, one he’d gone over and over in his head to find any faults but ends up coming out all aggressive and forced in that way that was so quintessentially him. it should have made you pissed off. it just made you miss him.

your panties hang off one ankle in the backseat as he kneels between your legs, fucking that tall, thick, pretty cock up into your gummy walls. you feel defenceless, respectless as you shamefully take him and enjoy it. shit, it had been ages since you got fucked properly like you deserved— maybe you were just giving into impulses. you were simply overwhelmed, he’d used the magic he used on you to win you over in the first place and mixed it with your compulsion to nostalgia and got you right under his thumb again. his hips plap against you and you squeeze your eyes shut as to not look at him.

you don’t mind feeling him though, the way his mushroom tip stretches your insides. the way the skin of his bicep feels when you intimately and softly wrap a hand around it, gently scratching with your nails at each thrust. you can’t see but you don’t miss the shiver that runs up his spine or the soft moan that follows.

“come on. come on.” he grunts quietly to no one in particular before he hones in on you. “hey. hey you look at me alright? look at me when i’m fuckin’ you.” he tilts his head, staring you down like he could will your eyes open with telekinesis. maybe he could, because your sticky lashes flutter and your pupils dilate an embarrassing amount at the sight of him. “wanna — shit — wanna do things for you — yeah? wanna take you home. stay over at my place. just — just one night, alright? see how you feel —” he suddenly babbles, straightening his back and slowing his movements a little, all breathless as he scoops under your ass with his hands to fuck you deeper.

you groan, arching your spine up flailing your feet a little. “no.” you defy, feeling too hot as the windows fog.

“yeah. c’mon.” he disagrees like it was an opinion, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“no. don’t wanna go to your house. don’t wanna listen to you.” you spill in an emotional whine. there’d been no mention of obeying him here, but with rafe you knew subtext was everything. this is how he webs you into his trap.

he barely freezes but you notice him process what you said for a few seconds before he drops his voice even lower. “open your mouth baby.”

you do. and it’s so fast, and your tongue is so wet it’s humiliating. pavlovian, damaging to women everywhere. you blink and he’s grinning like the cheshire cat, leaning in to spit a fat glob down the back of your throat. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. fuck him. fuck me.

he stays there, nose to yours, lips nearly inside your mouth and he speaks into it, rolling his hips now nice and slow. “yeah uh, you don’t even believe what you’re saying — okay — make this easy on me— yeah? — make this — fuck, this fucking pussy — make this easy on me baby. i’m a man now.” he mumbles, nasally and familiar and you could have sworn you time travelled back to last summer when he was your entire world.

“mmghhh—” is all you could reply because now he’s angling his hips like a demon to scrape that gooey spot right near your cervix.

“you miss me.” he mouths at your lips.

“nuh—uh—ugh—”

“you miss me baby— come on.”

“. . .”

“you miss me kid.”

“i miss you daddy. i miss you!”

and just like that, the dam bursts. sure you can build a moat around your castle, but rafe cameron will always show you just how well he can swim.

[siennawrites-blog]

puppy having a total meltdown during a lockaway punishment and using her safeword (i live for angst, im sorry)

warnings: pet play, slight separation anxiety, angst, crying, very light dumbification, mentions of rafe x reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ (don’t read if that’s not your thing!), light fluff

a/n: read more about dad!johnb and puppy!reader here ♡

john b couldn’t sleep, the sounds of your restless movements and your little sniffles keeping him up at this ungodly hour of the night. “why are you awake?” his voice came out groggily, the deep bass of his tone making your ears perk up. “i can’t go to sleep..” you whimpered, “i need to be next to you, please just let me out!” john b sighed, his eyes screwing shut as the defeated sound of your cries pulled at his heartstrings. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t having a hard time getting some rest himself without having you tucked into his side. his anger, however, prevailed over any kind of forgiveness right now.

“you should’ve thought about that before letting rafe fuckin’ cameron get into that dumb puppy brain of yours.” he grumbled, his jaw clenching as he recalled the day’s earlier events. he should’ve known that you weren’t up to any good when you wandered off and neither pope or jj had a single clue where you were. while he didn’t expect you to be somewhere you weren’t supposed to, nothing could’ve ever prepared him for seeing you messily eat an icecream cone in front of rafe and his friends, all of them looking at you in a way that had john b shoving them off of their feet and dragging you away by the belt loop of your denim skirt.

“it was just an icecream cone!” you threw your head back in frustration, your hands coming up to rattle the metal door. john b immediately corrected your behavior, his shirtless form making you wish you could feel him skin to skin. “it wasn’t just an icecream cone, dummy, he baited you into putting on a little show for him and his pervert friends and you fell for it.” you shook your head as if to say it wasn’t true, but after he lectured you about the whole thing on the way home, you realized that you had indeed been tricked. “it doesn’t matter, i’ve warned you about them— specifically rafe, and you still didn’t listen.”

the pink, fluffy throw blankets lining the bottom of your cage weren’t providing you comfort anymore, your chest tightening as you grew more and more anxious to get out. “i’ve been in here since we got home, please let me out daddy..” john b studied you for a moment, really debating if whether or not you learned your lesson already. images of you giggling with icecream dripping down your chin and rafe ‘cleaning’ you up by gathering the sticky sweetness on his thumb and slipping the digit between your lips where you licked it clean flashed through his head and he found himself back at square one; pissed off and irritated.

“no.” he turned out the light, leaving both of you in pitch black darkness. you whimpered, tears still rolling down your cheeks as you felt yourself getting impatient. “let me out!” you screamed, rattling the cage as john b attempted to ignore you. “i don’t want to be in here anymore, i want to sleep with you!” you cried helplessly, that weird panicked feeling creeping up on you as the cage started feeling smaller than what it was. “i’m serious, john, i don’t feel good.” at the mention of his name, john b swallowed thickly, cursing under his breath as he walked over and opened it, his hand taking yours as he helped you crawl out.

standing to your feet, you reached up on your tippy toes and threw your arms around him, wasting no time in nuzzling your face into his warm chest. “i won’t do that ever again, i promise.” you wiped your tears against his skin, allowing him to carry you back over to his bed. “you know i hate punishing you like that.” he laid you down, both of his arms swallowing you whole. with john b rubbing your back soothingly, you felt your eyelids grow heavy with sleep with each second that passed. “i’m letting you sleep out here tonight, but tomorrow you’re still going to get a spanking.” he warned, his threats falling on deaf ears as little snores escaped your lips.

[siennawrites-blog]

…DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚🦴⊹♡

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who tend to draw questionable looks everywhere they go— mainly because of puppy. if she’s not running circles around john b, gently gnawing on his finger, or getting into something she’s not supposed to, she’s bickering with jj until she starts crying because of something he said. dad!johnb picked up the nickname due to him being naturally authoritative and protective over puppy!reader. she called him ‘dad’ after he lectured her about eating too much sugar and the name just stuck. despite puppy always having pet tendencies, she didn’t really fall into the headspace until after her and john b got together and they started practicing it regularly. it started when he hand fed her snacks out of his palm as a joke, and slowly but surely it progressed into head patting, dry humping (on john b’s leg..), use of a collar, and eventually some barking and panting here and there..

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who spend their days lounging around the chateau when john b doesn’t have to work, both of them relaxing on the couch while puppy sucks on his fingers. she’s drooling, her spit dribbling down her chin until john b pulls his hand away, instead taking her in his lap where he gives her tummy rubs until she dozes off in his arms. she’s gazing up at dad!johnb with those puppy dog eyes as she whimpers, the sound drawing his attention. he already knows what she’s crying for, his eyes flickering over to her shoes that were thrown haphazardly by the front door. “go ahead and go outside, i’ll be out there right now.” without hesitation, puppy is rushing out the door, john b shaking his head as she trips over her shoelaces. he walks out and sits on the porch steps with a cold water bottle for her, wondering how in the hell she managed to make a huge stack of mud pies already.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who usually have to have a pep talk before the boys come around. “whatever jj tries to get you to do, don’t listen to him,” he warns, “—and remember, you can’t go running to pope with random bugs and asking him what they are, got it?” she nods dismissively and dad!johnb just knows everything he said went in one ear and right out the other. surely enough, puppy ends up doing everything john b told her not to do and she finds herself being locked in the room after rough playing with jj and accidentally crashing into the tv. she just ends up falling asleep on her bed until john b is waking her up with an icecream date as an apology. “birthday cake or cotton candy?” john b is asking her as she presses her face against the glass case displaying all of the icecream flavors in the shop. puppy answers ‘both’ before joining pope and jj in a booth, her and jj separated on either sides. “i love you, pup, but those flavors are horrid.” pope grimaced.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who are so icky when the chateau is empty and it’s just them two. john b has her crawling on all fours completely naked, letting her rut herself against him and her pillow, giving her butt rubs as she oral fixates on his cock, making her hold her pee while he edges her time and time again until she’s a whining mess. puppy is crying out, her fingers pulling at the tuft curls of john b’s hair as he fucks into her from below, her knees sitting on either sides of john b’s thighs. she’s licking him, running her tongue along the column of his throat, her lips leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses while he bounces her on top of him. “you’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good, pup..” john b praises, her whimpers being a testament to just how stuffed full she was with john b’s length, his cock rearranging her insides with every thrust, “think you deserve a treat after this, huh?” she’s nodding, not able to speak a single word as all thoughts die in her head.

DAD!JOHNB X PUPPY!READER who are very territorial over each other. john b is super aware of the way some guys look at her and can tell when someone is trying to take advantage of her naivety. he keeps her close no matter what, but on the rare occasions where she may wander off or get herself into trouble, john b is quick to swoop in and get her before anyone else could. as for puppy, she’s shameless when it comes to establishing herself as john b’s. she’s draping herself across john b’s lap while they’re at a boneyard party, rubbing her cheek against him as if to coax him into scratching her head, not so subtly grinding on his thigh, and of course it works every time in scaring off anyone trying to get at him. pope and jj are watching everything unfold, both of them not surprised in the slightest as they watch puppy and john b sneak off to the twinkie. “well! there goes our ride back home..” pope sighed, jj still watching the twinkie until he spots puppy’s feet in the air.

୨୧ when dad!johnb monitors your screentime

[siennawrites-blog]

NSFW Bucky Thought II

Bucky LOVES when you get all teary and whiny while he's fucking you into the mattress. LOVES when you go absolutely dumb on his cock and can only mumble out "James, James, James" this man absolutely loves it when he gets your pussy so wet it's making an absolute mess. he loves hearing it squelch as he's thrusting into you, loves feeling the wetness over his thighs and watching it roll down your ass. but you? oh my god you're embarrassed. because you don't wanna make a mess, don't wanna upset him. just wanna make him so happy, especially when he's spoiling you and making you feel so good. so you try to move your body away from him. he has NONE of it. he'd grip your hips tight. "where you think you're going huh?" and you'd start to cry a little, overwhelmed by the way he's making you feel and the embarrassment of the mess you're making. "don't wanna make a mess on your bed" you'd mumble out between sniffles. "it's okay baby, make a mess. show me how good im making you feel, yeah? i'll clean it up later, doll. you're such a good girl. my good girl. show me how much your pussy loves me."

[siennawrites-blog]

can you do one where abby tortures reader instead of joel?

“Strong one”

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

Summary: What if it had been you Abby tortured, instead of Joel?

WC: 7k

Warnings/Tags: minors DNI, lots of fluff, violence, blood, smut, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv, pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, age gap, established relationship.

You came to slowly, pain throbbing at the back of your skull like a war drum. The world spun before it sharpened into something bitterly real—wood-paneled walls, the scent of wet earth, rot, and snow seeping through the cracked window.

You were feeling dizzy, unsure of your surroundings. Then you heard him—Tommy—groaning, maybe ten feet away, on his knees with a gun pressed to the back of his head. Someone had already worked him over—blood poured from his nose, one eye nearly swollen shut.

You shifted. A boot slammed into your ribs.

“She’s awake,” a voice said. One of the others.

You coughed, vision blurry. You turned your head—and there she was.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable. You saw the tension in her jaw. Rage, leashed just enough to keep her steady.

“So you’re the girlfriend then?” she asked.

Your throat was dry. “What?”

“Joel Miller.”

You didn’t answer fast enough. She strode forward and punched you—hard. Your head snapped back, stars exploding behind your eyes.

The force knocked the breath from your lungs, your vision swimming in bursts of light and shadow. Pain radiated from your jaw down to your neck like fire. You tried to steady yourself, but her fury was relentless.

Abby stepped back, breathing hard. “You think I came all this way to let it go? He killed my dad. And you—what? Played house with him? Helped him sleep at night?”

“Go to hell,” you spat, blood dribbling from your mouth.

“She had nothing to do with it,” Tommy growled. “You want revenge, take it out on—”

Abby cracked him across the face with the butt of her rifle.

The sharp crack echoed through the room like a gunshot. Tommy’s body jerked violently, a grunt of pain escaping his lips as he crumpled slightly. The air hung heavy with tension—no one dared to move.

“No. I want her.”

You tensed, the fear rising thick in your chest.

“You know what he did?” she asked, voice hollow. “He took everything from me. So I’m gonna take you from him. I’m gonna watch his whole world crumble first. And then, when he has nothing left, I’ll kill him.”

She stepped closer again, close enough you could smell the sweat on her skin, see the wild look in her eyes—untethered fury wrapped in flesh.

The golf club swung. Pain exploded in the back of your head—shattering, blinding. You screamed, the sound ripping through the walls.

Tommy shouted your name, but someone slammed him back down, held him there.

She didn’t stop. The club came down again. And again. You sobbed, gasped, tasted metal and blood.

A desperate, piercing shout.

“No—NO! Stop!”

The door slammed open, and Ellie stood frozen in the frame, eyes wild, breath ragged, gun trembling in her hands. Ellie’s voice rang out like a shot, desperate and breaking—but before her foot even fully crossed the threshold, someone was already on her. A blur of movement, and she went slamming to the floor, her gun clattering away as some guy pinned her down, his forearm crushing against her back.

“Ellie!” you tried to scream, but it came out broken, wet. Blood bubbled on your lips.

She struggled beneath him, snarling like an animal. “Get off me! GET THE FUCK OFF—”

But Abby didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. She only adjusted her grip on the golf club.

You try to focus, but everything swirls.

Abby doesn’t hesitate.

“She’s mine,” Abby snarls, raising the club again. Her voice was shaking, but not from fear—from a rage that had fermented too long. “This isn’t for you,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is for him.”

And then—it came down again. A sickening crunch. The sound of bone breaking echoed like a gunshot, white-hot pain exploding through your shoulder and collarbone. Your scream tore from your throat, raw and desperate.

Your vision flashed white. Pain lanced through your shoulder, your collarbone—something cracked, and a scream tore its way out of your chest.

Ellie wailed. “Please—please stop! PLEASE!”

Abby paced around you, breathing heavily, blood spattered across her face now—your blood. Your arms were shaking, trying and failing to protect yourself.

You turned your face toward Ellie, teeth chattering. “It’s… okay,” you tried to say, voice mangled. “I’m okay.”

But you weren’t. Your chest was caving in with every breath, your limbs spasming from the shock. Your vision tunneled, shrinking to a pinprick where only Ellie’s terrified face remained.

“Let me go—fuck, let me go!” Tommy bellowed, fighting against his captors. “She didn’t do anything! GODDAMN YOU!”

The desperation in his voice was raw, filled with a furious helplessness. You wanted to tell him to stop, to be careful, but your own strength was fading fast.

Your vision blurs. Suddenly, a guttural howl slices through the silence—something not human.

A horde of runners burst through the windows and door, snarling.

The chaos was instant. Screams. Gunshots. Blood. The wet sound of teeth tearing flesh.

You hear Tommy cursing, hands ripping at your bindings.

“Come on, stay with me!” Ellie’s voice cuts through the haze.

You feel yourself being lifted���arms pulling, fingers fumbling at knots.

“Almost there…” Ellie breathes, her voice steady but strained.

You try to open your eyes but only see shifting shadows. The world tilts, then rights itself briefly.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tommy grunts, his voice close.

The sounds around you—Ellie’s frantic movements, Tommy’s curses, the snarls of infected—fade in and out like distant thunder.

At one moment, you feel the snow cold against your cheek.

The next, warmth—Ellie holding you, whispering.

Then the world slips away again.

The door to the medical hall slammed open.

Joel didn’t wait to ask. He’d heard the shouting, the panic in the hallway, the word passed like wildfire:

“Let me see her. Now.” Joel’s voice was raw, trembling with a desperate edge as he pushed forward, eyes burning with frantic urgency.

“No. You can’t. Not yet.” Maria’s hand shot out, firm and unyielding, pressing heavily against his chest, stopping him in his tracks like a dam holding back a flood. Her face was pale, lips trembling.

Joel’s brow furrowed, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. “Why the hell not? I need to see her. I have to.”

Maria’s voice wavered, almost breaking. “She’s unconscious. Joel… They barely made it back alive. If it weren’t for the runners—” Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. “I don’t think she would’ve—” Her voice cracked like fragile glass. “She’s in bad shape.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with a suffocating mix of fear and fury. He shoved past Maria’s hand, his movements rough, reckless, propelled by a force he couldn’t control. The nurses’ hurried footsteps echoed behind him, the sterile smell of antiseptic thick in the air.

His arm was wrapped in a ragged sling, blood darkening the fabric. His shirt was torn and dirt-smudged, his face drawn and weary. Tommy’s eyes lifted slowly, heavy with guilt and exhaustion. He didn’t say a word at first — just stepped back, silently making way.

Joel’s whole body shook. “Tommy.” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything.”

The words landed with crushing weight, suffocating Joel’s lungs. His legs wobbled, his vision blurred for a moment, and he gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

“How bad?” Joel forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Just tell me.”

Maria swallowed painfully, eyes flicking between Joel and Tommy. “She wasn’t breathing when they got her out. Dislocated shoulder. Head trauma. Internal bleeding—probably more.”

Her voice softened, breaking the silence like a fragile thread. “But she’s alive, Joel. She’s still alive.”

The word hung in the air, trembling with hope and fragility. Joel’s hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling into fists as if trying to crush the impossible.

But it didn’t stop the images flooding in. He imagined your face bloodied, your eyes swollen shut, your body limp in Ellie’s arms. He imagined you calling for him—and him not being there.

“What the fuck happened,” he breathed, jaw tight, voice trembling.

Tommy’s voice cracked. “We were ambushed—It was a setup. They wanted information… about you.”

Joel’s eyes slowly lifted. “Me?”

Tommy nodded, broken. “A girl wanted revenge. Said she was…the daughter of the doctor you killed in Salt Lake City.”

Joel blinked. And then it hit him.

The Fireflies. The daughter of the surgeon he’d killed in Saint Mary’s hospital to keep Ellie alive.

Tommy’s voice was lower now. “They… they beat her to hell, Joel. We got lucky, a horde came through the woods. I don’t know how, but… it saved us. We wouldn’t’ve made it out otherwise.”

Joel stood straighter, his fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms.

“You saw who did it? What about the girl?” His voice was low, deadly calm.

Tommy hesitated. “Yeah. The girl… she got bit. Some of the others too. The rest ran.”

Suddenly, the door burst open, swinging wide.

Ellie and a nurse stepped out.

Ellie’s face was a mask of exhaustion and pain—her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, hands trembling like leaves in a storm. One sleeve torn and dirt-streaked. She stared at Joel, speechless.

You’d been a key part in trying to bring Joel and Ellie together.

You loved her, and Ellie loved you just as much. She was your favorite patrol partner—brilliant, brave, endlessly curious. She made the quiet hours pass with jokes and stories that veered wildly from tragic to hilarious. Somewhere along the way, she’d started treating you like some kind of strange hybrid—a big sister on good days, a stand-in mother on bad ones. You never asked which one she needed. You just gave what you could.

She trusted you. Which was why she didn’t push back too hard when you started nudging her toward Joel again. It had started small. Quiet comments like, “I think Joel’s trying, even if he sucks at showing it,” or “He asks about you, you know.”

Then it’d be dinner invitations—casual, no pressure. Making excuses to watch old movies together, trying to spark conversation. You’d sit between them on the couch like a buffer, nudging Ellie to ask Joel a question about some ancient actor, or joking with Joel until Ellie cracked the tiniest smile. Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth. Ellie would barely say a word. Joel would sit rigid, as if afraid even breathing too loud might piss her off.

But it was working. Slowly. Bit by bit.

Joel’s chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Where is she? Let me see her,” he demanded, voice rough, desperate.

“Joel—” Ellie tried to stop him.

The nurse held up a hand, calm but firm. “She’s sedated. You can’t see her yet. But she’s stable. She’s going to pull through.”

Joel swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest deepening.

Then the nurse added quietly, “The baby’s okay too. It’s a miracle she didn’t lose it after all she went through. She’s a strong one.”

Silence slammed into Joel like a physical blow.

The word baby echoed through his mind, thunderous and impossible.

He blinked, voice barely audible. “What…? What baby?”

The nurse glanced at Ellie, then back to Joel. “You didn’t know?”

Joel shook his head, barely perceptible, voice breaking. “No. She—” His throat tightened, and a wave of guilt crashed through him. “She didn’t tell me.”

“She’s about ten, maybe eleven weeks along,” the nurse said softly. “We almost missed it. She lost so much blood. But we checked. The heartbeat is strong.”

Joel stared blankly, as if the words were foreign.

Baby.

The cold numbness in his limbs faded, replaced by a sudden, piercing ache.

Ellie moved to him before he could fall. She threw her arms around him, tight, clinging like she was the only thing tethering him to earth. Her small frame shook as she cried into his shoulder, her tears hot against the worn fabric of his jacket.

“She was protecting her stomach,” Ellie whispered, voice trembling. “They kept hitting her and she didn’t even cover her head, fuck— just kept pulling her arms down around her stomach like—like it was all that fucking mattered.”

Joel made a sound—half gasp, half sob—that barely escaped his throat. His arms wrapped around Ellie, squeezing her to him, grounding himself with the only comfort he had left. His chest heaved as his world tilted.

He’d thought he’d felt every kind of agony—guilt, rage, fear.

But this was different. This was everything.

He’d almost lost you.

And the child he never even knew.

“Please… can I see her?” His voice was so low it barely broke the silence.

The nurse hesitated, then nodded.

“Just for a moment.”

The room was dim, cast in the muted glow of a single amber lamp tucked into the far corner. Shadows stretched long across the sterile walls. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound — a fragile, steady echo of your pulse.

Bandages wrapped your forearms, thick and clean against bruised skin. Dried blood streaked along your hairline, your temple swollen and marred. One eye was sealed shut with purple-black bruising, the other just barely fluttering beneath the weight of exhaustion.

And still… you looked too still.

Joel sat hunched at your bedside, the chair pulled close, knees spread wide, elbows braced atop them. His hands were clenched together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He sat like if he let go of himself for even a second, he’d come apart at the seams.

He hadn’t spoken.

Not a word. Just stared.

Your face — bruised, bloodied, unfamiliar — was nearly unrecognizable. But it was you. He knew it was you. Knew it in the way something deep inside him cracked every time he looked at you and remembered that he hadn’t been there.

Hadn’t protected you.

His hand moved, slow and uncertain, until his trembling fingers brushed against the back of yours. The contact was featherlight — scared, reverent. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t stir. Just breathed.

That alone nearly brought him to his knees.

He cleared his throat — a harsh, raw sound that cracked in the stillness.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel, like it had been clawed from his chest. “I’m here.”

Silence answered. But it was deafening. Not peaceful. Not calm. It ached.

“I… I didn’t know. Bout the baby.” He rubbed his face, the gesture full of exhaustion and disbelief. “Jesus, sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice trembled. So did his shoulders.

“I woulda—fuck, I woulda lost it. Yeah.” A strained laugh broke through his lips. But it was hollow. Pained. “But not ‘cause I didn’t want it. Not ‘cause I didn’t want you.”

He leaned in closer, his thumb brushing the unbruised edge of your knuckles — the only untouched part of your hand.

“You’re the strongest damn woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered. “But you didn’t have to do this alone.”

His gaze dropped to your stomach — now gently bandaged beneath the blanket. The rise and fall of your breathing was barely perceptible. But it was there. Alive.

“You saved that baby,” he rasped. “Even with your head cracked open and your body shattered, you still fought. For it. For us.”

“I shoulda been there.” His voice thickened, near breaking. “It shoulda been me they wanted. Not you. Never you.”

Your eyelids twitched.

A flicker. Barely there. Like a breeze brushing over dying embers.

Then again.

Slowly. Painfully.

You blinked.

Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, lashes sticky with dried tears and blood. But through the haze, shapes began to form. Blurred outlines. The dim lamp. The sterile white ceiling. The smell of antiseptic.

You turned your head — just barely. Every muscle screamed. But then you saw him.

Joel.

Slumped forward in the chair beside your bed, his forehead resting against the back of your hand like he was praying. Or begging. Or trying to breathe without breaking.

Your fingers twitched. Just a small movement — a whisper of touch. But it was enough.

Joel’s head snapped up, eyes wide and bloodshot, rimmed red with exhaustion. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Like he couldn’t believe it.

“…Baby?”

You blinked again. Your lips parted, cracked and dry. It took every ounce of strength, but a sound emerged.

“J…Joel.” Your voice was barely audible. A dry rasp, ragged and thin — but unmistakable. And at the sound of it, something inside him crumbled.

He was up in an instant — not rushing, not smothering you, just leaning in close, hands hovering over your face like he was afraid to hurt you with touch.

“Oh God. You’re—hey. Look at me.” His hand cradled your cheek, barely pressing against your bruised skin. “You’re okay. You’re awake. Jesus, sweetheart. I thought I lost you.”

You winced, your ribs flaring with pain. A soft whimper slipped out. In one moment, as your senses slowly began to crawl back to you through the haze of pain and exhaustion, your hand instinctively flew to your stomach.

“Is… is the ba—?”

Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, your palm pressed against the soft curve of your belly like you could somehow feel for a heartbeat through skin and muscle. Like you could will the baby back into being with just a touch.

“Easy, easy.” Joel’s voice dropped again. “Don’t move too much.” His hands never left yours. “You’re banged up real bad. But you’re safe now. You hear me? You’re safe. The baby’s safe too. Breathin’.”

You blinked slowly, chest rising in shallow waves. “Hurts.”

“I know.” His thumb swept under your eye, brushing away nothing, but needing to touch you. “I know, baby. But you’re here. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

His gaze drifted down to your stomach, his hand resting there with reverence. Even with your skin bruised, your abdomen tender — he touched you like you were holy. Like you were the sun returning after a hundred winters.

“I was gonna tell you,” you murmured, voice cracked. “About the baby.”

Joel didn’t speak.

You looked away, ashamed. “I just… didn’t know how.”

He waited.

“It’s not like it was some big secret. I wanted to tell you. I just… I thought about what the world looks like now. About what it did to you. To Sarah.” Your voice wavered. “You’ve already lost so much, Joel. I didn’t want to put that weight on you again.”

Joel flinched. Slight. But enough.

“I didn’t want to give you one more thing to be afraid of. One more thing to lose.” You said, swallowing back tears.

He closed his eyes slowly. Like your words were knives carving across his heart.

“I thought maybe you’d think it was selfish. Or stupid. To bring life into this.” Your throat closed, voice nearly silent. “I didn’t know how you’d react. If you’d be angry. If you’d feel… trapped. You’ve carried so much, Joel. And I just—I didn’t want to throw a new baby at you and expect you to carry that weight again. Especially at your age.”

Joel exhaled — a sound like air rushing from a collapsing structure. “Thanks f’that.”

You gave him the faintest smile. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded slowly, leaning in. His eyes locked to yours, warm and full and broken. “A child with you… that’d never be a burden.”

He kissed your forehead. Then your temple. The corner of your mouth — so gently it barely registered as contact.

“I am scared,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Shitless, if I’m honest. This world ain’t made for soft things anymore.”

His hand moved back to your stomach.

“But I’d fight tooth and nail to make room for one. For ours.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I want this. Not just the baby. You. All of it. The good. The bad. The ugly. Whatever’s comin’ next.”

“Good,” you whispered. “’Cause I don’t think I can get through this without you.”

He cupped your face again, more firmly now. Grounded. Real.

“You won’t have to,” he said. His voice didn’t shake this time. It was steady. A promise.

Your eyes fluttered shut again — not from pain this time, but peace.

Safety.

Joel pressed his lips to your forehead one last time, holding there.

“I gotcha, mama,” he murmured. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”

Even after the conversation. Even after you’d drifted again for a short while. Joel stayed there — unmoving, unblinking — his fingers wrapped tight around yours like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff. Like if he loosened his grip for even a second, the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You stirred softly.

Your eyelashes fluttered, lips parting on a shallow breath. The light above was dim now, flickering faintly, but enough to illuminate the slouched shape beside you.

Joel’s head was bowed, broad shoulders hunched like he was carrying the full weight of what had happened — and still carrying it badly. His brow was furrowed deep enough to carve a canyon, and his jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it hurt to breathe.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice paper-thin.

He lifted his head slowly. His eyes were red, glassy. But he didn’t wipe them.

“I need to say somethin’,” he said. His voice cracked mid-sentence, like something inside had finally split. “And I need you to let me say it all.”

You nodded. Barely. “Okay.”

Joel leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees again, his entire posture that of a man on trial — like he’d already found himself guilty and now just needed to speak the verdict out loud.

“’M sorry,” he said, voice low and thick and ragged. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You blinked slowly, pain thudding somewhere behind your eyes.

“I shoulda been there. I shoulda known.” His hands wrung together like he was trying to throttle the guilt out of his bones. “I’ll never forgive myself for you gettin’ dragged into the shit that was meant for me.”

His voice dropped, rough with self-loathing.

“You went through hell. And I wasn’t there to stop it. To protect you.”

You opened your mouth — your breath caught behind the ache in your throat — to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That it couldn’t have been. But he pushed through.

“I know you’re gonna say I couldn’t have known. That it ain’t my fault. But that doesn’t matter. I shoulda made damn sure nothing ever got that close to you. Not ever.”

His eyes found yours. And for a moment, it felt like he was trying to etch himself into your memory, like he needed you to see every drop of guilt in his soul.

“You were tortured,” he said, voice shaking. “F’me. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even close. And I don’t know how to live with that.”

Your bottom lip trembled. “Joel…”

He shook his head — firm, broken, desperate.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said, his voice rough but reverent, like it hurt to say it out loud — like it was sacred. “And if that little girl or boy grows up to have even half the heart you do…” He faltered. His throat worked around it. “They’ll be somethin’ fierce. Just like their mama.”

The tears came faster now — yours, not his. Hot streaks trailing down your cheeks, every drop a release of pain and love and everything in between.

Joel leaned in, kissed your hand — soft, reverent, like it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“You didn’t just survive what they did.” His lips hovered above your skin. “You protected our child through it. You kept them safe. You held on — for both of you.”

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a fresh tear from your cheek.

“You’re already a better mother than most ever get the chance to be.”

Your whole body trembled with a soft sob. Joel moved carefully, gently, sliding closer onto the bed. His arms came around you slow — cautious of every bruise, every bandage — and yet strong, anchoring, like he could hold you together with just his touch.

He cradled the back of your head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

“‘M here now,” he whispered, the words more vow than comfort. “And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life makin’ sure you never have to go through somethin’ like that again.”

You buried your face into his neck, your fingers clutching weakly at his shirt. You could feel his pulse under your cheek — strong, steady, alive.

“I love you,” you breathed.

“I love you too,” Joel said, voice breaking again. “So damn much.”

The room had gone quiet again. You’d drifted off, the pain meds finally taking root, winding through your bloodstream like silk — pulling you into the kind of sleep that didn’t feel like surrender, but mercy.

Your breathing evened out, lashes resting soft against your cheeks. The pain still lingered in your features, but the fear was gone.

Joel didn’t move.

He stayed right there, one hand resting lightly on your belly — over the soft swell that now held more than bruises or wounds. It held hope. And something else entirely.

His hand was rough, weathered. It dwarfed the small curve beneath it, but trembled just slightly, like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch something this fragile. This sacred.

He leaned down, close enough that his lips nearly brushed the blanket.

“Hey, little one,” he murmured. “Reckon we haven’t properly met yet. I’m your daddy.”

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle over your stomach.

“You don’t know it yet, but your mama… she’s the strongest damn person I’ve ever known. Carried you through somethin’ no one should have to survive. And she did it without ever lettin’ go of you.”

His voice hitched.

“She protected you. Even when I couldn’t protect her.”

He swallowed thickly, lips pressed tight.

“I don’t know what this world’s gonna look like when you’re old enough to see it for what it is. But I swear to you — I’ll make a place for you. I’ll fight for it. I’ll bleed for it. You and her… you’re it for me now. I’ll give everythin’ I got to make sure you get a chance at somethin’ better than what I had. Better than what Ellie had. Better than what Sarah had.”

Joel heard someone coming and turned quickly, rising from the bed instinctively—half-guarded, half-concerned—but relaxed when he saw Ellie standing in the doorway, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows, hands stiff at her sides. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed in bruised exhaustion, and dried blood still clung beneath her nails.

She looked shell-shocked. Frozen. Younger than usual. And older.

Joel rose, slow, careful.

“She’s asleep,” he said softly. “But stable. They said she’ll make it.”

Ellie’s eyes shifted to the bed. To the tubes and gauze and bruises that painted your body like a warzone. Her jaw clenched.

“I thought she was gonna die,” she whispered. Her voice broke on the word “die.”

Joel’s own face cracked.

“Me too.”

“She protected the baby. That’s… fucking insane.”

Joel didn’t look away from her.

“She’s always been brave,” he said. “You know that.”

Ellie’s throat bobbed with something unspoken. Then she nodded. Quietly.

Joel hesitated — then stepped back, nodding toward the chair beside you.

“She’ll want to see you when she wakes up.”

Ellie didn’t move at first.

Then, slow as a tide rolling in, she stepped forward and sank into the chair. Her hand reached out — hesitant, unsure — before closing around yours like she was afraid she might break you.

She pressed her forehead close to your arm, breathing shallow.

Joel watched them — the woman he’d almost lost and the girl who’d saved him from being lost long before that — and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, he let out a breath that didn’t shake.

And for just a moment, the weight didn’t feel so impossible to carry.

When you woke up the next morning, the harsh white light of the hospital room was already creeping in through the blinds. Your body ached in every part—every breath a reminder of what you’d been through. You blinked slowly, trying to focus, and realized Joel wasn’t there. Instead, the faint scrape of fabric caught your attention.

Ellie was there—collapsed into the chair beside you, her body folding into itself like she’d been there for hours. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, the dark circles under them stark against her pale skin. Her hands rested limply on her lap, trembling just slightly.

You lifted your head just enough to meet her gaze, a weak but genuine smile touching your lips. “Hey, kid.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She just blinked at you, like she was trying to find the right thing, but the words got stuck somewhere deep.

Finally, she cleared her throat, voice rough and low. “Joel went to get a shower. He didn’t want to leave you, but I insisted.” She let out a humorless chuckle that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Told him he was gonna start stinking if he didn’t.”

You gave her a nod, your lips twitching into a half-smile that was more tired gratitude than amusement.

Ellie’s hands clenched tightly in her lap, knuckles turning white beneath her skin. Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“I didn’t know if… I didn’t think you’d…” She swallowed hard, biting back a sob. “Shit.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I’m here, Ellie,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I’m still here.”

Her gaze dropped to the worn hospital blanket covering your legs. Her jaw clenched so hard it looked painful, and when she finally spoke, it was with a rawness that broke your heart.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve—I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve done something.”

You reached out slowly with your good arm, your fingers trembling as they brushed against her wrist, grounding her. “Ellie, there was nothing you could’ve done. Nothing.”

She shook her head, her voice catching like she was swallowing a storm inside her.

“I was so scared. When we got here and they said you weren’t breathing… I didn’t know if I’d lost you.”

Your throat tightened, tears blurring your vision, but you forced the words out. “I’m fine. I’m here. You got me here.”

She swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper.

“And the baby—I didn’t… I didn’t know.” Her eyes flicked back up to yours, wide and shining. “Congratulations, by the way.”

A soft smile broke through your pain. “Thank you.”

“Can I…?” Ellie’s voice was hesitant, eyes flicking to your belly as she made a small, uncertain gesture.

“Sure,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

She moved her hands closer, like she was afraid to cause you even the smallest discomfort. When her hands finally reached your stomach, she placed them there with a tenderness that made your heart ache. You weren’t showing at all yet, but Ellie swore she felt something warm beneath her palms, a quiet pulse of life.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Congratulations. I’m… really happy for you. For both of you.”

A soft, tired laugh escaped your lips. “You should tell Joel too. He’s scared shitless of being a dad at fifty-eight.”

Ellie’s gaze lifted to meet yours, fierce and unwavering. “He’ll do good… And the baby… it’s lucky to have him as a dad.”

You reached up and squeezed her hands gently, letting the weight of her words settle between you.

Without another word, Ellie leaned her forehead gently against your arm. You felt the tremble in her breath, the tears soaking quietly into the hospital sheet beneath her. She stayed like that, silent, close, as if holding onto you would keep the world from falling apart.

The house was quiet.

For the first time in days, it was just you and Joel. The sunlight stretched across the wooden floorboards, casting slow, lazy warmth through the windows of your shared home in Jackson. The hum of distant voices outside was barely audible, muffled by thick walls and thick memories.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your sweater down over your ribs — the bruises had faded to something yellowish now, the deeper aches dulling with each passing morning. You were walking fine. Breathing steady. Healing.

But Joel hadn’t touched you. Not really.

You’d noticed it first the night you got home. The way he helped you into bed like you were made of glass. The way his hands hovered near you instead of resting on your waist, how he kissed your forehead and not your lips. Every time you reached for him, he would pull away — gently, but completely.

And it was happening again now.

You stood in front of him as he folded laundry at the end of the bed. You stepped into his space, reached for his hands.

“Joel.”

At the sound of your voice, his shoulders twitched — a reflex he couldn’t hide — and slowly, he turned.

His features softened the moment he saw you.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you said, voice low but steady. “You know that, right?”

His jaw flexed. “Yeah. I know.”

But he didn’t sound like he believed it. Not really.

You slipped your fingers under his shirt, just a little, just enough to feel the heat of him.

He flinched. Not like you scared him — more like he was scared of himself. Of what touching you might do.

You looked up at him. “You haven’t kissed me in three days.”

“I kissed your forehead.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Silence fell like a weight between you, heavy and aching.

He didn’t answer.

You moved even closer, resting your palms on his chest now, over his heart. It was thudding. Fast and heavy, like he’d been running.

“I need you, Joel.”

He let out a breath, rough and shaky. “I know. I just—”

“You think I’ll break.”

His silence was your answer.

You stepped back a little, hurt stinging sharper than any wound.

“You won’t even look at my body anymore,” you said. “You won’t touch me like you used to. You see me like I’m something still bleeding.”

Joel turned away, hands gripping the edge of the dresser, knuckles white.

“You almost died,” he said. Voice low. “They could’ve killed you, and our baby.”

“But they didn’t.”

“I wasn’t there,” he snapped, then softened immediately. “I wasn’t there to stop it, and now I—now I don’t know how to touch you without seein’ what they did.”

Your chest cracked open.

“Joel…” you crossed to him, slowly this time, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You pressed your cheek to his back, listened to the way his breath caught.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you whispered. “You’re the only place I feel safe.”

He exhaled through his nose, his hand covering yours where they rested on his stomach.

“I want you, Joel. I want to feel you close again. I want to feel like we’re still… us.”

You turned him gently, your eyes pleading as you reached up to brush a thumb over his jaw. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

Your lips brushed his — tentative, testing. And when he didn’t flinch this time, when his mouth moved with yours in something soft and real, the ache in your chest began to loosen.

He tasted like breath held too long. Like guilt. Like hunger starved for too many nights.

He held you close. Still careful, still trembling. But his mouth was hungry now. His hands buried in your hair. A low, desperate sound left his throat as he deepened the kiss, all that fear bleeding into the press of his lips.

“Christ, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Missed you so bad it’s killin’ me.”

You broke apart just enough to breathe, forehead against his.

“You tell me if it’s too much. You promise me that.” He said.

“I promise,” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. And then he started undoing your clothes.

Gently. Carefully.

He peeled off your shirt with trembling hands, eyes raking over every new scar and fading bruise with something like reverence. His fingertips brushed your skin like it was sacred.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice thick. “They didn’t take this from me. They didn’t take you.”

When he kissed down your chest, his hands slid to your hips — not possessive, not greedy. Just needing to hold you, to feel you were real.

“Been dreamin’ about this,” he murmured. “Bout how you taste, how you sound when you cum on my tongue…”

Your breath hitched.

Joel moved down the bed, kneeling between your thighs as he gently helped you out of your underwear. His gaze was molten when he spread your legs — and fuck, the way he looked at you then, like you were a goddamn feast he’d been starving for.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he muttered, eyes locked on your slick folds. “You’re drippin’ already. Missed this cunt so goddamn bad.”

You felt his breath against your core before he even touched you.

Then—

His tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, and your whole body arched.

“Joel—!”

He groaned like he’d just tasted heaven. “That’s it. Lemme hear ya.”

His grip on your thighs tightened, spreading you open with a possessive strength now. His tongue flicked your clit once, twice — then he flattened it, dragging it up with a wet, obscene sound that made your hips jerk.

He licked you again, slower this time, letting his tongue swirl around your clit before pulling it into his mouth with a soft suck.

You cried out, hands flying to his hair, hips twitching against his mouth. He moaned like you were his last meal, tongue working faster now, more insistent.

He buried his face in you, beard scraping your thighs, and the lewd sounds he made — wet slurps, groans vibrating against your pussy — made you flush all the way to your chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’,” he murmured between licks. “Could stay here all night…buried in this pussy.”

Your hips rolled against his mouth, and he moaned, sucking your clit harder as one thick finger slipped into you — so gentle, so damn careful.

“That feel okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” you gasped. “More, please…”

Joel gave you what you wanted. He added a second finger, slow and deliberate, curling them just right until your back arched. His mouth never left your clit, his tongue lapping and sucking like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

He fucked you slow with his fingers, tongue working your clit until you were shaking, thighs trembling around his head.

“Cum f’me,” he murmured. “Wanna taste you when you fall apart.”

You felt it building — white-hot pressure curling in your spine, your belly, your thighs. Your breath came in ragged little sobs.

Your orgasm hit like a damn freight train — you cried out, thighs clamping around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers as he kept licking you through it, swallowing everything you gave him.

When he pulled back, his beard was soaked, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“You good?” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Need a second?”

“I need you now.”

That pulled a low growl from him.

He stripped quickly, climbing over you with a new kind of urgency. His cock was thick and heavy between you, flushed and aching, precum leaking through his tip, and when he finally slid it through your folds, he shuddered.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, rubbing the head through your soaked slit. “You’re so wet, makin’ a fuckin’ mess—gonna slide right in, yeah?”

“Joel—fuck, please—”

He pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretching you open so carefully it almost hurt with how tender it was.

“Shit,” he breathed, burying his face in your neck. “You’re still so tight, baby—fuck—so warm…”

You moaned as he bottomed out, your nails raking his back.

He trembled on top of you, hips stilled, letting you feel every inch. His voice was wrecked.

“I missed this… missed bein’ inside you. Thought I’d never get to feel this again.”

“Joel. Move, please—”

He started to thrust, slow but deep, grinding his hips into yours like he needed to feel every inch of you clench around him.

Each stroke was deliberate — filthy and reverent. His cock dragged along your walls, thick and stretching, making you moan into his mouth as he kissed you like a man starving.

“I gotcha,” he whispered. “I’m here. I ain’t ever lettin’ go again.”

You kissed him hard — sloppy, desperate — and he responded like he was drowning in you.

It was romantic. Filthy. Desperate.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your heels dug into the small of his back, urging him closer, grinding his cock impossibly deep into your soaking cunt.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and perfect. Each wet slap of his hips was a promise — I’m here, I’m yours, I’m not going anywhere.

“Shit—feel how you’re squeezin’ me?” he gasped, voice fraying. “Your little pussy’s so fuckin’ greedy, baby. She don’t wanna let me go.”

He panted into your ear, hips pistoning now, his balls slapping your ass as he fucked you harder, dirtier. His thrusts lost their rhythm, turning rough, frantic, like he needed to fuck the memory of almost losing you out of his bloodstream.

He hissed through his teeth. “Fuck—feel you milkin’ me, baby, you really missed this cock, didn’t ya? Feel your pussy clinging to it. Can’t hold— won’t last much longer…”

Your cunt fluttered around him, clenching, desperate — and when you came again, crying out his name like a prayer you’d almost forgotten, Joel broke with you.

“Oh fuck—fuck, baby—I’m comin’—” he groaned, voice wrecked, thick with relief and need.

Joel cursed and followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a ragged groan, burying himself deep.

You could feel it — hot spurts of his release filling you, cock throbbing inside your cunt as he grunted into your neck. His whole body jerked with every pulse, like his soul was pouring into you along with his cum.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, forehead against your skin. “Fuckin’ needed that. Needed you.”

“I needed you even more.”

His body trembled over yours.

He didn’t move for a long time — just stayed there, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. His hands cradled your face like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And maybe you were.

Because for the first time since that night, Joel didn’t feel like he was breaking.

He felt whole.

A/N: To the person who requested this—and to everyone else reading—I truly loved writing this, and I really hope you enjoyed it. Tysm for the request🩷🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[siennawrites-blog]

Can’t get over how good he looked in this scene so I might as well write something bc imagine…

Dbf!joel who came over for dinner with your family and you two didn’t see each other for weeks, so the excitement is big.

Dbf!joel whose eyes are on you every single time while you guys are eating, making it hard for you to act normal, the throbbing in your panties already unbearable.

Dbf!joel who just looks too good on this day, made his hair nice for you, wore that one shirt you liked on him so much.

Dbf!joel who lies to your father and tells him he isn’t feeling well so your father suggests him to stay in your house.

Dbf!joel who when the night falls and everybody is asleep, sneaks into your bedroom, seeing you in bed, smiling to you with a little “Hey, sweet girl”

Dbf!joel who doesn’t need lube because you have been aching for him since the last day you saw each other, slipping right into you.

Dbf!joel who keeps a hand on your mouth, so your parents won’t hear anything while gently hushing you with coos and whispers to you “shh. I know, baby. I know.”

Dbf!joel who thrusts into you quickly and hard, seeing his sweet girls fucked out eyes looking up to him as he keeps eye contact with furrowed brows.

Dbf!joel who absolutely missed the way your cunt felt around him as he whispers absolute filth into your ear. “fucking missed this, baby. Look at you taking me so well.” “Take it sweetheart, that’s what you made for, c’mon now.” “That feel good huh? That’s your spot yea?”

Dbf!joel feeling your orgasm approaching putting a thumb on your clit, rubbing and praising you. “That’s it, angel. Gonna cum for me now?”

Dbf!joel who fills you up, kisses your forehead and praises you, before putting the blanket over you again and saying goodbye for now as your tired eyes slowly drifting to sleep and him silently leaving your room again.

[siennawrites-blog]

joel carves his initials into your thigh.

content/warnings: joel makes sure everyone knows who you belong to, blood kink (like.. if this is not your thing please scroll), dark!joel, unspecified age gap, use of daddy, joel is possessive and controlling

it was girls night. well, it was supposed to be.

you were getting ready to go out with your friends— with plans to see a movie and get some ice cream. you had ditched them the last few weekends, joel always coming up with an excuse as to why you couldn't leave.

"nuh uh, you didn't finish your chores. next time, baby." or "you know that's past curfew, can't have you out after dark."

your friends didn't like him all that much. they believed he was too controlling, too mean, too scary. but they didn't know the joel that you knew— the one that protected you, nurtured you, saved you. the man who worked all day, every day just so that you didn't have to. you owed it to him to listen whenever he told you no, considering all that he does.

but joel was working late. he called you during his lunch break to let you know that it was taking him longer than expected, which meant he wouldn't be back in time to say no.

still, he knew something was up. you were too quiet when he talked to you that afternoon- not doing your usual whining whenever he had to break the news that he wouldn't be home for dinner, again.

you didn't fuss or even try to beg him to come home early like he expected you to. it made him feel good when you did that, being a reminder of how important he was. you depended and relied on him because he molded you to be that way, but to hear how much you wanted and needed him made everything worth it.

now joel was concerned. he sat back in his chair thinking about the last couple of days and your behavior. he hadn't checked your phone recently, could you have met someone new, maybe younger? were you losing interest in him, moving on? the thought alone had him seeing red.

so he ditched the rest of his work, and headed home.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you didn't hear him come in, too busy applying another coat of lipgloss and checking yourself out in the bathroom mirror as he stood leaning against the doorframe.

"where do you think you're goin'?"

his voice startled you, dripping in a tone that you almost didn't recognize as joel's. it was low and unsettling, nothing like how it normally sounded when he greeted you.

you turned to meet his expression to see his face firm and unamused, not a twitch of a smile. you swallowed, eyes wide in shock.

"wh- what are you doing home so soon?"

"who are you to question me? i asked you somethin' first, so answer it." he gritted through his teeth, finger pointed at you.

"my friends wanted to see me, since you were still working i told them i could." you replied hesitantly, stepping back as he walked closer.

"so you were trying to sneak out? while daddy's busting his ass so that you have warm meals and a roof over your head, you were planning to go behind my back?"

you shook your head, frowning at his words. you hated to upset him and that wasn't your intention. he was right, he always was.

"it's not like that, i promise! we wouldn't be gone long, i swear."

joel didn't respond right away, silence lingering heavy in the air. your heart was thumping in your chest as he stared at you, finally getting a moment to scan over your figure to notice what you were wearing.

an outfit you had no business in is what it was. one he told you that you were only allowed to wear around him. it fit you perfectly— meaning it was too short, too pretty, too innocent.

joel was getting angrier the longer he looked at you. he realized you also did your makeup, the apples of your cheeks pink from blush and your lashes dark with mascara.

"think m'gonna let you leave the house lookin' like this? stupid girl."

before you could speak he cornered you against the sink, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto the counter as if you weighed nothing to him.

"dressed like you're seekin' another man's attention, damn shame. after everything i do for you." he muttered to himself, his fingers digging into the flesh of your stomach. you could tell by the pressure that he would leave bruises there tomorrow— and the more you whined, the harder he pressed.

he was too far gone to calm down at this point. you could tell by coldness in his demeanor and how he eventually stopped responding all together. his pupils were dilated, the rich shade of brown now blown to be pitch black.

"i don't have to go anymore, im sorry! we can stay here, together, please."

"too late for that, sweet baby." he parted your legs, nudging himself between the gap and impatiently shoving up the fabric of your skirt.

that's when you felt it. a cold, flat object dragging along the warm skin of your inner thigh. the cool sensation sent a chill up your spine, making you look down to spot the source.

he had a pocket knife in his right hand, the tip of the blade so close that it was ghosting just over your cunt.

it was the same one he always used. he kept it with him at all times, whether it was to crack open beers or to whittle his wood carvings. now he had the idea to use it on you.

your breath hitched, your body tensing as you watched him slowly brush it past your clothed clit. "joel, what are you-"

you were interrupted by the sound of cotton ripping, the blade slicing through the thin material of your underwear. you choked on a gasp, your eyes meeting his face to find a smirk. joel was skilled with a knife. he had years of experience longer than you were alive for, so he was more than careful and capable enough to assure he didn't hurt you. not there, at least.

"how can i leave y'alone when i can't even trust ya to stay put, huh? keepin' secrets, not being honest with me. maybe i ain't made myself clear yet."

he cut into your skin. a quick, thin line on the top of your thigh just under where your dresses normally stop at. you whimpered with a wince, beads of red prickling out from the area.

"shhh, it's okay. daddy's gotta do this though, so you'll learn." he pulled what used to be panties from underneath you, balling it together and holding the piece to your mouth. "here baby, bite down. it'll help."

you reluctantly accepted it, teeth clenching down and bracing from what was to come.

he used his other hand to hold down your leg. "try and stay still, so it comes out straight. want it to look nice." you felt the next cut, this time it hooking with a jagged curve at the end.

you sniffled through the pain, squeezing your eyes closed while he did the rest, tears falling from them with each incision-like gash. as much as it hurt, joel was gentle— mumbling praises "doing so well, sweetie." and "being such a good girl f'me."

his words went to your core, heating in sensitivity from the tingling burn that was left after each run of the blade which soon turned into pleasure. "you're enjoying this, aren't you? it's okay if you do."

you nodded desperately, a muffled mewl spilling from your lips while you bucked your hips for more.

the knife was soon replaced with something wet, providing relief to the wound. your vision, still blurry from the strain of crying, adjusted into focus see joel's head of curls crouched in front of you— face down and tonguing at the tender area.

he was licking your thigh, cleaning up the blood that had risen to the surface of your skin. he moaned into it, sucking with greed as if he craved the taste, placing kisses after each spot that he finished. it was a filthy imagine, downright horrific. "i could eat you all fucking day, baby, i swear. drain you dry."

the feeling was visceral, unlike any orgasm you ever had before. your legs were shaking as he did so, soaking the marble beneath you in your slick. he brought his mouth to your pussy and repeated the same actions there until you came, the sweet of your arousal mixing with the metallic of your blood that lingered on his tongue. his pulled back, his beard stained maroon— a color that could pass as being from a glass of wine.

what joel had done was sacred, intimate, metaphoric. a carnal desire, more true than any other act of love.

he made sure that he didn't go deep enough for stitches, but enough to leave a scar. one that would be a permanent reminder embedded and branded on you, forever.

you looked to see the initials engraved: J M

[siennawrites-blog]

talk - nsfw fatws bucky barnes

all i can think about is getting matcha Bucky talking you through it

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he coos, his voice so beautifully condescending. that mocking tone of his holds no malice behind it, but god does it get you off.

"it's just so good, isn't it?" he taunts you. you're sitting on his lap, your bare back to his clothed chest, and he's slowly working three vibranium fingers in and out of you...

you let out a low moan and roll your head back, letting your temple meet his cheek. you reach your left hand back to hold his hair gently, keeping his head in place against yours.

the heat of his body against yours is so agonizingly overwhelming. you love it.

"you're so good for me, sweetheart, you know that?" he goes on, "so easy, too. yeah. you're so easy for me, getting all wet like this, and I haven't even taken my shirt off."

you whine. you can't fathom forming a single comprehensible word right now.

"you just need me to touch you," he says, crooking his fingers up against the spot deep inside you, making you groan and curl your body forward, "right there, don't you, baby?"

his right arm moves to bring you back to lean against his chest.

"need you to stay right there for me, baby, come on. you know better," he reminds you.

he's right.

you nod. you're sweating, and your hair is a fucking mess, you're sure of it.

you guide your fingers through his hair again, gently playing with the strands of hair as he keeps pressing up against that spot deep inside you.

"you like that, don't you, baby?"

you nod once more.

"bet you'd like some more, huh?"

you whine out, nodding more fervently. you need just a little bit more to go over the edge–

"come on. be good. what do you say?" he taunts again.

"please, Bucky," you whisper, your voice thick as you can barely get out the words.

"that's it, doll," he praises, "such a good girl f'me."

he brings his other hand to join his metal one between your legs, gently rubbing circles into your clit, and you struggle to hold yourself in place against him as he's instructed.

"relax, babydoll. you know I've got you. I always do," he tells you, beginning to press kisses to your forehead, your temple, your cheek.

the pressure builds, and builds, and–

"please, Bucky," you whine, louder this time, sounding even more desperate than before.

"good girl, that's what I like to hear. such a good girl," he says. he pauses for a moment, looking down at your face while your eyes cinch tighter, holding on until he finally says, "go ahead, baby."

you whine out and you lean your head on his shoulder as you come, hard.

he's shushing you and pressing more kisses to your face as you breathe heavily, all while continuing to work his fingers against you.

"you're not done, sweetie."

~~~ masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark

[siennawrites-blog]

bucky barnes + prone boning. 18+ fem!reader, mdni. 420 words. 'old man' mention bc im me and I can't not include it watched thunderbolts yesterday, im still feeling lots so get a load of this

⎯ ☆ ⎯

the position he’s got you in is comfortable, quite lazy really: laid flat on your stomach, the side of your face resting on tightly crossed arms. the scrunched pillow sitting under your stomach acting as a prop of elevation for bucky, your slightly raised hips aiding the opening of you.

he cages over your back, arms bent beside yours, lips ghosting the shell of your ear from the closeness. his slow and laboured rhythmic breathing matches the pace of his leisure fucking — the focus of each thrust on depth and feel, rather than speed. every full wind of his hips produces the faintest of exhales from you both, your blissed sounds merging and muffling into the darkness of the room.

every time he rolls into you, you each move in fluid motion against the mattress, like you’re both synchronised waves. you bend your knees, ankles crossing and lifting as they hover above the cheeks of his ass.  another point of elevation tightening your pussy’s hold on bucky. 

he lustfully groans at the new feel, muttering indecipherably into the lobe of your ear. “can’t last,” he adds between a couple pumps, pressing a needy litter of kisses to where he just spoke — stubble grazing across the sensitive spots along the base of your neck.

his pace quickens ever so slightly, barely noticeable really. but it becomes apparent that he’s chasing the edge. his chest begins to brush briskly up and down the blades of your shoulders, skin skimming yours with the increased speed. 

“you gon’ come with your old man, sweetheart?” he asks, the question practically rhetorical — no need for vocal response. voice low and tone thick as he whispers directly into your ear. “hm?” he nips at the lobe, holding it carefully between his teeth.

you nod, the motion rather haste. a measly whine accompanies the action and your eyes flutter closed. with his metal hand planted just in your view —his fingers only a short couple inches away— you reach for him. and when he spots your touch, he’s lifting a palm to place atop the back of your hand. vibranium fingers lacing into yours, lips hovering the patch of skin under your ear.

you clench around him intermittently, your breath hitching and growing all the more strained with every rock of his cock. 

“you’re right there, aren’t you?” he muffles into your hair, his forehead resting on the side of your head — strength seeming to be lost in his neck. “I can feel it.”

“yeah.”

“then let go.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[siennawrites-blog]

nsfw 18+⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ minors dni!

pairing : older!joel x inexperienced!fem!reader

warnings : smut, established relationship, praise, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, good girl), inexperienced reader, fingering, unprotected p in v, jackson!joel, shy/nervous reader, fluffy, it’s implied that joel & reader are fairly new in jackson (having travelled together), joel has a filthy mouth and talks SO MUCH, appearance from tommy at the end, this is literally 3.7k words of pure pornography im sorry

summary : joel was your first. your relationship has blossomed since then but you’re still inexperienced and he is certain to let you experience everything when it comes to intimacy although you still may be nervous to try new things.

an : ik this account has been exclusively cod characters but i’ve wanted to write for joel for soo long. kinda wanna rebrand and start writing again!!!!

“c’mere,” he murmured, holding his arms out to you, effectively compelling you into his lap. you straddled his thighs and looked down at his lustful gaze, feeling your chest tighten at the sight.

he didn’t seem to care about the fight he’d just had with tommy; you hadn’t even remembered what it was about this time, but what you did remember was tommy storming out of his own house, calling joel a “fuckin’ asshole” and leaving you and him in tommy’s living room like this.

you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and play with the hem of his t-shirt. you hear him sigh above you and lean back against the sofa, instinctively resting his hands on the small of your back as nosed at the side of your neck.

“you smell real good from that soap they let us use,” he murmured, his gruff voice in your ear.

you smile a little, “i do?”

“mmh,” he hummed, his hands reaching to fidget with the ends of your hair, “don’t know about you, darlin’, but i could get used to this life o’ luxury.” he leans down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck, inhaling as he does.

the flesh on the back of your neck erupts in a shiver, feeling his breath fan over you as he exhales. you stay there, on his shoulder, wanting him to continue; he does. he paves a line of light kisses down to your shoulder as he pulls the neckline of your shirt to the side. a gentle hand runs under your shirt and over the skin of your back. he grins into your skin as he hears you exhale a sigh - a happy sigh - beside his ear.

joel shifts you in his lap, bringing you closer to where his hips bend and gently pulling you from the crook of his neck.

“joel..” you murmur shyly, to which he replies with the raise of his eyebrows in questioning. “you’re um… i can feel you..”

he gives a light chuckle in response and traces his fingertips over where your hair falls over your face, “that right darlin’? you feel what y’re doin’ to me?”

you give a shy nod, feeling your cheeks grow hot. he notices how you avoid looking at his face.

“don’t be goin’ all shy on me now, baby. ‘s alright to feel things.”

you nod again, glancing down to his lap where his jeans seemed much too tight and constricting. he notices but doesn’t say anything, his hands moving to your hips and gently up your sides beneath your shirt. they rise just beneath your breasts; he softly thumbs over your nipples, watching your face intensely for a response. you almost squirm at the delicate touch as you watch the shape of his hands moving beneath your shirt, and exhale a quiet sigh of his name.

“we haven’t done it like this before, have we?” he speaks softly, his hands moving back down to your hips as he sees your nipples are hardened under the soft fabric.

“what?”

“we’ve never fucked with you… on top o’ me,” he repeats. a thumb comes up to trace along your jawline and your eyes flicker back up to his face as you shake your head. he smiles when you look at him, “mmm… you wanna change that, baby?”

you nod.

his smile widens and his thumb on your jaw slides down your neck, to your shoulder, where he pushes your hair back. his other hand transgresses the waistband of your sleep shorts, watching your face as he does so. his hand nestles over your centre, the pads of his fingers tracing over you through your underwear, feeling the dampness. your eyes flutter but you watch intensely as he then delves beneath the thin fabric.

“let’s open you up a bit for me baby, huh?” he says, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

you nod eagerly, his words clouding your mind with arousal.

“there y’ go darlin’.. ‘s a good girl,” he praises as you whimper at his touch. he runs a calloused fingertip through the seam of your pussy, coating himself in your wetness.

using his other hand, he finds the hem of your shirt, and slides it up your waist, exposing your abdomen. “can i take this off?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“i…” you hesitate — what about tommy? if he comes back..? joel continues to swirl his fingers over your sensitive clit, making it near impossible to articulate thoughts. “i— don’t know.. what— what if tommy comes ba-ck?” you struggle between short pants and breaths.

he shakes his head and chuckles, “tommy ain’t comin’ back anytime soon darlin’. don’t you worry.”

“but… if he does? i don’t wanna.. take it off.”

his eyes soften; his fingers slow. “you’re worried about him seein’ you like this, hm?”

you nod.

“th’s okay, baby. you don’t gotta. ‘s okay,” he reassures gently.

you nod again.

he takes his hand from your centre and moves both to your waist, pulling your shirt back down. he places soft, wet kisses along your neck again, speaking softly as he does, “‘s no worries.. we’ll just take it slow. lemme take care o’ you.”

his hand finds its way to your hair, tucking it behind your ear. he pulls away from your neck as he feels you fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt, and glances up at you expectantly.

“are you.. gonna take yours off?” you murmur, afraid he’d say no and accuse you of hypocrisy.

he raises an eyebrow and smiles, amused that you’re asking. “you feelin’ shy again darlin’? y’ want me to take it off?”

you nod cautiously.

smiling wider, he laughs lightly, “all right, darlin’.” he takes the hem of his t-shirt from your fingers and lifts it over his head, exposing his abdomen and chest, and his hands find your hips again. your eyes rake over his skin, speckled with greying hairs over his chest and a trail of them that let down to his jeans. he watches you watch with a grin wide on his lips, almost with pride.

he gently runs a hand up your thigh; his touch reminds you that he is not in fact just an object that you get to stare at. you glance back up to his face, almost guiltily for the way your hungry eyes take him in.

“don’t feel bad for lookin’, darlin. y’ know i don’t mind.”

he feels you start to get restless in his lap, growing needier with each passing second. his hand slips back beneath your shorts, eliciting an almost frustrated whine from your throat, needing some real alleviation.

“shhh.. ‘s okay baby. ‘m gonna give you what you need in a bit.” his fingers softly graze your centre, wanting to see how much more he could rile you up.

you grind down into his fingers, the whisper of contact simply not enough. he pushes back against you in response.

“you need it real bad, huh?”

you nod, eyes staring to well with tears of need and frustration.

“ohh, i know darlin’, i know,“ he whispers, fingers still circling over your swollen bundle of nerves, as he glances up to you in awe. “you still wanna try bein’ on top?”

you nod.

“good girl.. tha’s my girl…. just need’a get y’ opened up a bit for me, ain’t that right?”

a whimper escapes your throat, feeling your core pulse at his words.

“oh, baby,” he muses pitifully, “…now, ‘m just gonna start with one finger, ‘kay? work up to maybe 3. that all right?”

your mouth falls agape as he pushes one digit into you, up to the knuckle and he curls it towards himself. “not 3, joel.. i don’t want—“

“shhh.. ‘s alright baby. i’ll do whatever you want, ‘kay?” he reassures as he repeatedly pumps his finger inside of you, soothing over that sweet little spot that made your head roll back. your hands move to his biceps, squeezing onto them tightly; he smiles widely as you do.

“there ‘y go.. ‘s a good girl.. lemme hear you baby,” he murmurs, adding a second finger.

you whine softly as he pushes that little bit further inside, and your pussy involuntary squeezes around him, almost keeping his fingers in place.

“j—joel..” you whimper, feeling how the bicep that is pumping his fingers inside of you strains and flexes beneath your grasp with each movement.

“c’mon baby, y’ gotta relax f’ me.. squeezin’ me so god damn tight.. ‘s like y’r try’na break my fingers or somethin’,” he chuckles, gently soothing his free hand down your side.

“sorry,” you whimper, slightly embarrassed although you know he doesn’t mind.

“‘s alright darlin’.. there y’ go, ‘s alright,” he mutters, feeling you open up as warm waves of pleasure wash from your abdomen and over your body.

“such pretty sounds y’r makin’ baby,” he compliments as you whine, mewl and babble his name, obscene wet sounds making your mind go fuzzy, “you think you’re opened up enough f’ me yet darlin’? y’ ready for me?”

he slows his fingers as you nod; with one last deep push into your aching spot, he removes them from you.

you whimper at the emptiness, shifting upon his lap and eyes darting around his face pleadingly.

“i know, i know darlin,.. y’ wantin’ more ain’t ya?”

you nod shamelessly.

“well now baby.. i need you to be patient for me then.. don’t want you hurtin’ yourself because you were impatient, now, do we?”

you shake your head, becoming aware of your neediness.

“hmmm.. didn’t think so,” he muses as he leans back into the sofa, “now.. you wanna unbuckle me or do you want me to do it?”

his fingers splay over his belt; you look between his hands and his face, afraid of disappointing him.

“um… you can do it,” you mumble

“tha’s all right. ‘s no problem darlin’,” he smiles at your bashfulness as his fingers begin to make work of his belt. he doesn’t wait to pull the soft leather from his jeans; he just unbuttons and unzips them, his self control running low.

he sees your curious gaze glancing down to his hands, eyeing his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear. “you got me so fuckin’ hard baby,” he chuckles, palming himself through his boxers with a soft grunt.

you blush in response, unable to hide the proud smile that spreads over your lips. he grins, and his thumb moves to your lower lip, gently brushing over the delicate skin. “sweet girl,” he muses, “y’ still alright with bein’ on top?”

you nod in response, excitement building and tightening your chest.

“all right then darlin’. y’ just need’a relax for me, okay? we’ goin’ real slow, just like we’ve been doin’ so far, right?”

you nod; he holds your gaze for a little while, his fingertips moving to the hem of your shorts where he traces along their underside, “can i take these off darlin’?”

you nod eagerly - maybe too eagerly. smiling, he hooks his fingers into their waistband and tugs them down your thighs. you lift a leg out of them to help, leaving them dangling from your other. his thumbs rub over the front of your underwear, “‘m just gonna pull these to the side, that all right baby?”

you nod again, and he squeezes your thighs, shifting you closer, musing a quiet “c’mere” as you settle further into his lap, the most intimate part of you flush against his still clothed hardness. “there you go darlin’.. you ready to give it a go?”

“mhm,” you almost whimper, lifting yourself slightly as he palms himself again, before he pulls himself out - achingly hard and leaking at the tip. he strokes his hand over himself once, a small groan leaving his lips. his freehand settles at your hip, guiding you to hover over him, as you steady yourself on his shoulders and look between your two bodies.

“just do whatever feels natural, baby.. whatever feels right, okay? you ain’t gonna hurt me and i ain’t gonna judge you,” he reassures, as if he can feel your racing mind.

you nod and you let yourself fall a little closer to him, whimpering when you make contact. his tip notches at your weeping entrance; he slides the head of his cock through your slick, eliciting a small whine from deep in your throat.

“easy baby.. now, y’re nice ‘n’ wet, so it shouldn’t hurt, okay? ‘s just gonna feel real full,” he mutters with an adoring glint behind his eyes as he takes the image of you in: eyes fluttering closed, hair slipping over your shoulder, mouth agape and falling apart on his lap.

you lower yourself down a little more, his tip pushing into you and your pussy swallowing him wholly. you earn a grunt from joel; he moves both his hands to your waist, gently guiding you over him, selfishly unable to hold himself back.

“just like that baby.. yeah, feels real good.. there y’ go,” he mumbles breathlessly, feeling you lower further. you instinctively squeeze around him at the praise, your abdomen fluttering and erupting in spasms of warmth, sinking yourself down until you’ve taken him to the hilt.

he releases a guttural groan at the warmth of you clenching around his cock. on the brink of losing himself already, he tightens his grip on your hips and stills you, a series of grunts and breaths stringing from his throat. “christ, baby.. y’ gonna have to wait just a minute.. just a sec.. y’ got me seein’ fuckin’ stars sweet girl,” he speaks, his eyebrows pinched together and eyes tightly closed.

you moan out at the feeling of fullness, your head falling to rest in the crook of his neck as his dick presses into a delicious spot deep inside of you. he regains composure after a little while and begins to lift your hips slightly before pulling you back down. soft mewls and whines fill his ear, the pretty sounds travelling straight to his cock.

“mm.. there y’ go baby girl.. y’ feel that? feels nice ‘n’ full, huh?”

you nod weakly, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes at the sensation of being so full. lifting you with both hands, he slides one up your side beneath your shirt; you help him by steadying your legs around his thighs and raising yourself up, before he pulls you back down, earning a loud whine as a tear spills down your face.

he moans, head leaning back and reeling in the way you’re wrapped around him so tightly. noticing the small stream down your face, he speaks breathlessly, “you okay darlin’? you ain’t hurting on me, now, baby, are ya?”

you shake your head, barely able to concentrate on his words, “‘m fine.. just feels— good.”

his thumb wipes over your warm cheek as he grins, “mm.. well.. you’re doing so good f’ me baby.”

as you squeeze around him again, he grunts loudly, his hold on you tightening and an almost pained expression coming over his face. “i swear to christ, y’re doin’ that on purpose,” he strains.

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to relax.

he smiles and shakes his head, “don’t apologise baby.. felt real good. y’r pussy’s just so goddamn tight.”

you start to move on your own, your forearms resting on his shoulders for leverage as you push yourself up and then back down, building a painstakingly slow rhythm. your faces just mere inches apart, he grabs onto your chin and pulls you to his mouth, your lips pressing together hungrily. he swallows your whines and moans with his tongue pushing into your mouth and his lips enveloping yours as you keep up your slow pace, up and down over his cock. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving wet marks along your neck that have you whimpering his name.

“tha’s a good girl baby,” he murmurs into your skin, “just make y’self feel good.. take y’r time… that’s it, take it nice ‘n’ slow darlin’.”

you take him slow and deep, undoubtedly unable to increase your pace, but he’s patient enough to let you take him however you want to. his cock notches against that sensitive spot inside of you that only joel knows, dragging along your walls with every rut against him. you look down and watch as you take him, filled to the brim every few seconds, your clit pressed against his greying hair. his chest gleams with droplets of sweat and his abdomen rises and falls with his short breaths. your mouth stays agape and you bury your head into his neck, moaning into the skin there each time you feel him deeply.

“ohh.. ‘s that feel good sweet girl?” he asks as he looks down to you pressed against his shoulders.

“uh-huh,” you mewl, barely able to form coherent words.

“tha’s good.. doin’ so fuckin’ good f’ me baby.”

its not long before your thighs begin to ache. you slow down even further, your legs burning with fatigue. being on top isn’t as easy as it seems; you grasp onto joel with the last ounce of energy you have left.

he feels your thighs tremble and your pace begin to slow more. “you doin’ okay there darlin’?” he drawls, guiding your head out from his neck.

“i— i can’t joel,” you almost whine as you stop, his cock still hard inside of you.

“‘s okay baby. you tired y’self out, huh?” he murmurs empathetically, giving a light kiss to your cheek, “you wanna get on your back?”

you hesitate for a moment, wondering if he’s secretly disappointed, but nevertheless, you nod. “c’mon,” he muses, lifting you onto your back, his dick still inside of you. as he lays you down onto the couch, he gently soothes kisses over your neck and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. you shuffle yourself downwards slightly, getting comfortable and you exhale a needy sigh, moving your arms to enclose over his back as he holds himself above you.

“‘s that better baby?”

you nod and give him a smile, to which he returns with a grin and a tender kiss to your lips before he pulls back his hips and pushes them back into you. he starts to set a slow pace with long, gentle strokes, grunting with each movement, feeling you tighten around him as the speed of his hips gradually increases. a particularly deep thrust had your back arching with a sharp moan and your nails press down into his back. his head drops at the feeling, a series of loud groans leaving his mouth, as he caught a glimpse of your lower abdomen rising slightly with each thrust of his hips. his groans turn into a soft laugh as he continues to rut into you.

“oh.. sweet jesus baby..” he says, glancing up to your face, “gimme y’r hand.”

you take a hand from his back and hold it to him. his own hand encloses over the top of yours and he moves it between your two bodies, placing it over your abdomen as his hips move against you. you whimper at the feeling of his cock pushing against your walls from the outside, the flesh of your stomach pushing against the palm of your hand as his thrusts quicken in their pace.

“y’ feel me right here, hm? y’ feel that baby?” he almost taunts, pressing your hand down a little harder. the extra pressure has your eyes rolling closed; you tighten around him subconsciously.

“ohhh.. she likes that, huh?” he chuckles, removing his hand from yours and picking up his pace, determined to drive you closer to the brink of your high. his thrusts grow more erratic as he nears the edge himself, haphazardly pushing in and out of you as he begins to lose focus. he feels you swallowing his cock tighter with each movement of his hips.

“you gettin’ close f’ me baby girl?”

you nod, the pleasure building at your abdomen overwhelming all of your senses.

“c’mon then baby. let go f’ me darlin’. lemme feel ya.”

his ruts grow deliberately deeper and faster; he grunts grow louder and strained behind his teeth. you mewl into his ear, your back arching your abdomen into his and the heels of your feet digging into his lower back.

“joel— i’m..”

“tha’s it baby. don’t fight it.. let it happen.. good fuckin’ girl.”

his praise pushes you over the edge, the coil inside of you pulling taut and your core spasming with waves of heat, carnal pleasure shooting all the way to the tips of your fingers. your clit pulses as he continues to sloppily move inside of you, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm, until he feels he’s about to collapse over the brink with one last thrust. he pulls himself out and strokes his wet cock a few more times before he bunches up your shirt and spills himself over your stomach with a guttural groan, his hips jerking with each rope of come that paints your abdomen.

he collapses atop of your spent body with one final grunt as his head falls to rest on your shoulder. your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your high whilst you both try to catch your breath.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chuckles breathlessly, glancing up to see a lazy smile spread across your face, “you doin’ alright there baby?”

“mhm,” you hum, too tired to talk as your eyes flutter closed.

“good.. you did real good darlin’… y’ know.. i was—“

the sound of the front door opening. joel’s head drops to your shoulder again, muttering a quiet “shit”. your body is hidden beneath him; tommy must’ve been able to see joel’s back from behind the sofa. you hear what could only be tommy’s laugh.

“don’t tell me you two have just fucked on my couch.”

“uhhh..”

an : haven’t posted in likee 10 months oopsies

dividers by uzmacchiato

[siennawrites-blog]

ೃ⁀➷ giggly drunk sex with rafe 🥂

the two of you barely make it ten feet inside the house before you're breathless, tripping over each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. you’re clinging to rafe’s neck like a koala, cheeks flushed, both of you reeking of tequila and saltwater and that electric, dizzy feeling of being absolutely wasted and so in love it hurts.

“i swear,” you giggle, pressing sloppy kisses up his jaw, “you tried to fight that guy over me.”

“he bumped into you,” rafe grumbles, slapping your ass with one big hand while he kicks the door shut. “and then you laughed at his dumb joke. nah. you were flirtin’ .”

“was not!”

“were too,” he smirks, already stumbling toward the couch with you still wrapped around his waist. “you got all giggly. that’s your ‘i wanna jump his bones’ laugh.”

“that is not my laugh,” you say indignantly—then promptly let out a ridiculous hiccup followed by another burst of breathless laughter.

rafe full-body snorts as he drops onto the couch with you in his lap, both of you sinking deep into the cushions. “that’s the fuckin’ laugh. right there!"

you slap his chest half-heartedly, grinning like a fool. “shut up.”

“make me.”

so, you kiss him—messy and eager, tongues brushing, teeth clicking, both of you laughing right through it. your hands are in his hair, tugging gently, and he’s already mouthing at your jaw between kisses, muttering something about how you’re “too fuckin’ pretty” and “wearin’ that damn dress like you don’t know what it does to me.”

“you sound like a perv,” you mumble into his mouth, and he grins wider, dragging you closer.

“i am a perv,” he says, lifting your hips and grinding you down against the hard bulge in his jeans. “for you. only you.”

you both groan at the friction—needy and hot—and then immediately break into laughter when you try to roll your hips again and end up kneeing him in the side.

“ow!—” he wheezes, rubbing his ribs, but he’s still smiling like an idiot. “you tryna break me, baby?”

“i’m trying to ride you,” you giggle, face hot as you try to shimmy your dress up higher. “but you’re too slippery or something—”

“oh my God,” he laughs, full-belly and bright and tipsy as hell. “you’re literally insane. c’mere.”

he grabs your face, kisses you hard, then yanks your dress up with one swift motion, exposing your panties. his eyes flick down and he groans dramatically. “are those fuckin’ pink?”

you nod proudly, biting your lip. “they’ve got little hearts too.”

he blinks at you, clearly trying not to laugh. “you wore little heart panties to a party where i was gonna get drunk and have to behave myself?”

“i forgot,” you say sweetly.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he growls—and then hooks his fingers in the waistband and yanks them down with zero finesse. you squeal, trying to wiggle free, but he’s got you pinned with one hand gripping your hip and the other sliding right between your legs.

he groans again when he feels how wet you are. “fuuck. you’re soaked.”

“i always get like that when you’re annoying,” you say, but your voice cracks when he brushes his thumb over your clit.

“oh yeah?” he starts circling slow, lazy, just enough to make your thighs twitch. “how annoying am i now?”

you try to glare but you’re giggling again, high-pitched and breathy as your hips rock into his hand. “still so annoying.”

“bet you won’t think that when i’m inside you.”

“prove it.”

he lifts you again—barely managing with how much you’re both laughing and half-falling over each other—and tugs his jeans down just enough to free his cock. when it springs out, thick and flushed and already leaking, you let out a soft gasp and reach for him immediately. rafe wraps a hand around himself and gives it a few slow strokes, watching the way your eyes glaze. “you gonna sit on it or just stare at it all night?”

“i’m admiring it,” you say, smirking. “you should be flattered.”

“oh, i’m flattered,” he grunts as you guide him to your entrance. “now stop flirting and sit the fuck down.”

you sink onto him slow, moaning at the stretch, your head falling back as he groans beneath you. “hmmn fuck, baby,” he hisses, hands gripping your thighs tight. “every single fuckin’ time.”

you’re already clenching around him on purpose, and he knows it. “you’re such a little freak,” he says, half-laughing, jaw slack as he watches you start to roll your hips.

you whimper, body already trembling from how deep he is. “feels so good,” you breathe, eyes fluttering as you start bouncing in his lap, slow at first. “you’re so deep, rafey…”

“yeah? that’s what that dumbass at the bar’s missing,” he mutters, and you burst out laughing again, nearly losing your balance.

“oooh my God, you’re so petty!” you wheeze, but you’re still grinding on him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

he starts thrusting up to meet you, harder now, his hands guiding you down every time you try to lift. “not petty,” he pants. “just makin’ sure you remember who this pussy belongs to.”

you slap his chest, gasping and laughing at the same time. “rafe!”

“say it,” he growls, eyes dark but glinting with mischief.

“yours!” you cry, half-moan, half-laugh, “mnm, baby, it’s yours, you already know that—”

“damn right it is,” he grunts, angling his hips up just right so he hits that spot inside you that makes your whole body jolt.

you slap a hand over your mouth as your head tips forward, giggling so hard it’s shaking your whole body. “stop—stop doing that, i’m gonna—oh my God—i’m gonna cum laughing—”

“yeah?” he grins, dragging you down onto him over and over. “gonna giggle your way through an orgasm like the little mess you are?”

you nod frantically, eyes rolling, and that only makes him move faster, holding you tight as your thighs start to tremble. you cling to him, still letting out choked little laughs even as your moans get louder, more desperate. you come with a strangled cry, still smiling, still laughing, body going tight as your orgasm crashes over you. rafe watches, completely obsessed, thrusting up into you with desperate groans until he follows seconds later—burying himself deep, moaning against your shoulder, his whole body tensing as he spills inside you. you both collapse into each other, panting, sweaty, giggling so hard you can barely breathe.

“hoooly shit,” you say between breaths, pressing your forehead to his. “that was so…stupid.”

“so stupid,” he agrees, eyes still closed, hand lazily rubbing up your back. “we’re idiots.”

“but like…” you pause, still smiling. “the hot kind.”

“definitely the hot kind.”

[siennawrites-blog]

rafe making you tell him about your day or else he stops …

you were already breathless, already clutching at the sheets like they were the only things grounding you. rafe had you on your stomach, legs spread, one arm looped under your waist to keep your hips tipped up and vulnerable while he rocked into you slow and deep, each thrust just shy of rough—just enough to keep you dizzy. and then, like the menace he is, he slowed to an unbearable crawl.

“rafe—why’d you stop?” you gasped, hips twitching back against him, whining when he stilled completely.

“you didn’t tell me about your day,” he muttered low against your ear, that shit-eating smirk painted all over his voice. “and if you don’t start talkin’ real soon, i’m not movin’.”

you blinked, confused, desperate. “wait what? i—i can’t—”

“oh, you can,” he interrupted, dragging his hand up your spine slowly, watching the way you shivered under his palm. “you don’t shut up any other time of the day, baby. what happened, huh? cat got your tongue?” he gave one sharp, teasing thrust that made you jolt forward with a broken moan, then pulled out just enough to hover.

you whimpered into the pillow, cheeks burning. “i…i had an iced coffee this morning,” you mumbled stupidly, and he snorted, gripping your hips again.

“that’s it?” he mocked, pulling out completely, “no drama at the nail salon? no girls talkin’ shit behind each other’s backs? c’mon, baby, i like when you ramble—makes me feel important.” he dragged his cock back through your slick, just brushing your entrance, refusing to push back in.

you let out a soft sob, trying to press back against him, but he just held you still with one hand. “ugh—okay—okay! um—my friend jenna got a new purse and i told her it was cute even though it was really ugly, and—rafe, please—”

he rewarded you with a slow, deep thrust, humming in approval as you clenched around him. “see? not so hard,” he muttered, voice smug. “keep goin’, sweetheart. or i’ll stop again.”

and you did. voice shaking, brain scrambled, you kept talking—stuttering through mundane details while he fucked you slow and steady, drinking in every word like it was his favorite goddamn show. you swallowed hard, cheeks flushed, your voice coming out soft and babbled. “okay, okay—i woke up late… um, and my hair looked really bad so i put it in a clip, but then i hated that too—so i redid it like, three times—” he started to move, hips rolling at a lazy pace, dragging every inch of him through you so deeply it made your knees curl. “and i went to starbucks but they burned my latte,” you continued, breathless already. “so i had to go to a different one, and they were out of pumpkin cream, and—and then jenna showed me her new guy she’s talking to, and he was so ugly, rafe, like, way out of her league—“

his pace picked up slightly, and you gasped again, barely managing to keep talking, voice all high and shaky. “i told her he was cute but i lied, and then—and then we went to target for toothpaste but i left with like—like five candles, and a new perfume, and—” you hiccuped a moan as he drove into you harder, your speech stuttering. “i-i forgot what i was saying—”

“target,” rafe grumbled, thrusting faster now, hips snapping forward with more force. “you were at target, baby. keep goin’, you’re doin’ s’good.”

your brain was turning to mush, fingernails digging into the sheets as your voice pitched up with every breath. “um—i—i dropped a candle in the aisle, and this old man saw and i got so embarrassed, and then—i—oh, fuuck—” your voice cracked into a moan as he hit that spot inside you just right, over and over again now. the pressure was unbearable. the pace was ruthless. your words crumbled with each thrust.

“you gettin’ dumb on me?” he teased, voice low and smug against your ear. “you were talkin’ so much just a second ago.”

you shook your head desperately, but the only thing that came out of your mouth was a half-whine, half-sob. “i was just—oh my god, i was—i was trying to—”

“you were tryin’ t’what?” he purred, snapping his hips hard enough to make the bed creak. “use your words, honey.”

you were shaking now, the rhythm pushing you closer and closer, your voice nothing but a stream of breathy moans and pathetic mumbles. “i—i can’t—rafe—can’t even think—feels too good—feels so good, please—”

he chuckled lowly, “then just be my good girl and let me hear you,” he rasped, his thrusts punishing now, no mercy in the way he fucked you into the mattress. “that’s all i wanted. that sweet voice.”

you sobbed his name, hands clawing for something to hold onto. rafe just groaned—watching you cum underneath him, ruined by your own voice, by your own stupid little story, by the way you couldn’t stop whimpering through it all.

a/n :: this is not an original idea

[siennawrites-blog]

dom!rafe strapping you to a fuck machine ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

warnings — degrading, overstimulation, use of a fuck machine, oral (m. receiving) a/n — reupload & edited req from prev. blog (originally posted 8/8)

all day, you’ve been needy, and as much as rafe enjoys reducing you into a needy mess, you were nothing but a distraction. you were teasing him throughout the day, whining for the slightest ounce of his attention. you couldn't help it, not when he got you all worked up this morning, writhing under him, on the verge of falling apart on his fingers before he cruelly pulled away.

rafe had enough when you plopped yourself onto his muscular lap, grinding against him while he worked. “look at you, all worked up and desperate. you’re just aching for daddy to make you cum,” he hummed. “i’ll give that needy little cunt what she’s craving,” he promised.

if you were being honest, you should’ve known better; otherwise you wouldn’t be in the predicament that you were currently in. 

rafe had slipped something over your eyes and bent you over, face down against the mattress. your hands were tied behind your back with one of his neckties while your sopping cunt was stuffed with a thick, silicone dildo that was attached to a fuck machine.

he set the machine to a slow, steady pace, watching you squirm as the dildo dragged against your inner walls at a tantalizing pace. you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped from your lips, trying to move your hips back to meet its thrusts. which you started to regret as soon as you heard the whirring of the machine speed up, making the silicone toy pound into you. 

his eyes lit up with each moan that poured out of your mouth, making his cock hard and strain against his pants. "you like that, huh? knew my needy little slut would," rafe tsked, increasing the speed the louder you became, knowing you were close. your cunt clenched around it, crying out as you came all over the toy. but he didn’t let you catch your breath, instead, he turned the setting to the fastest speed, chuckling to himself when you whined. 

as time passed, you weren’t sure how long he had you lying there, but your body ached and was close to giving out from being held in the same position for far too long. your brain was fuzzy, you were nothing but a fucked out mess from how many times you came. your drool pooled out of your mouth, seeping into the sheets as you had no choice but to moan and take the fucking you were receiving.

rafe’s cock throbbed with need, watching your poor cunt take the silicone cock, sucking it in deeper. his fingers moved deftly against his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down to let them pool at his ankles. you felt the mattress dip under his weight before he grabbed your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. he gripped the base of his cock, tapping the heavy head of his cock against your lips, "open."

you eagerly open your mouth, gagging around him when he slips his cock into your drooling mouth, hitting the back of your throat. rafe slowly pulled out before shoving his length back down your throat. his fingers intertwined in your hair, holding your head still till your nose presses against his pelvis and saliva dribbles down his cock. you moan around him as the machine continues thrusting the thick dildo in and out of your soaked cunt.

“yeah? you like having your tight little hole fucked while suckin’ my dick?” he chuckled. “told you i was gonna give that needy little cunt what she needed, and she’s gonna keep takin’ it till i think she’s had enough.”

tagging moots: @cameronsprincess @chrissturnslovergirlx @dollyfiles @heartsforvin @rafesthroatbaby @rowdydevs @hauntedfawnn @hughessweetheart @ilovefiction4lmen @littlelamy @memoirofasparklemuff1n @nemesyaaa @rafeysangelbaby @rafesangelita @sarahsangelicdoll @sematarygirls

[siennawrites-blog]

do i wanna know?

summary: you tried to stay away from rafe cameron, not that any of your efforts sufficed.

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader (enemies with benefits)

warnings: rafe being toxic, manipulative and obsessive. mentions of alcohol and sex. | SMUT: unprotected sex, masturbation, slight voyeurism

wc: 2.5K

my masterlist! | my requests are OPEN.

i.

He was a bad person, with a lack of moral compass, indecisive loyalties, and questionable definitions of right and wrong. And you knew this.

He was an awful person, actually. He'd hurt you and all your friends, never stopped to think about his actions, his conscience completely muted inside his head.

Rafe was bad for you.

But for some reason you couldn't stay away from him— he kept drawing you in, he was suffocating, exhilarating, intoxicating in a way that made you want to run away from him, and to him at the same time. And no matter how much you tried to resist him, you two always found a way to end up tangled in each other's arms.

Like right now.

His lips were pressed against yours, desperate and hungry as he caged you against the bathroom wall, your hands trailing over his hair momentarily before they kept moving, eager to touch him.

You knew you shouldn't be there, it was one of your best friend's birthday and you ought to be celebrating with them, not making out with Rafe inside a bathroom. But then again, the moment you saw him walk in, you knew it would happen. He had no business being there except you.

His hands trailed up your legs, subtly pushing the edge of your dress up to bunch the material around your waist, so you could get a hint of what he wanted. His touch made you feel on fire, the sensation of his hands on your skin was simply so addicting that you craved to feel more.

You bunched up your dress over your hips as his tongue made its way inside your mouth, making you let out a soft moan against his lips, the one he throughly enjoyed, as he showed by pushing his hard clothed cock against you.

"I should hate you," you mumbled the moment his lips moved to your neck, as you heard the sound of his belt unclasping.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hot breath brushing over your skin as his fingers hooked on the edge of your panties and swiftly pulled them down your legs, to then stuff them inside his pocket.

"I hate you." You said the very moment his slender fingers trailed over your wetness, spread it and ever so softly circled your clit, he had no rush, no intention on actually getting you off this way, he was just being a teasing little bastard.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, princess," he mocked you, taking a hold of your hip with one hand, using his other hand to wrap it around his cock, sliding his angry red tip up and down your glistening slit a few times to coat yourself with your wetness, and then entering you in a single, devastating thrust of his hips.

The only way to contain the moan you'd let out was for Rafe to press his hand against your lips as he kept fucking you against the wall, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you took every single thrust delightfully, your legs tightening around his waist and pressing him closer to you, to feel him deeper.

You knew Rafe wasn't good for you. But you couldn't stay away from him, he made you feel so good every single time. He fucked you like he'd memorized your body for life, he knew all your sweet spots, how to make you moan and scream for him, how to make you cum so hard you'd be thinking of him for days.

You were addicted to him, the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, his cock buried inside you, addicted to the intimacy of it all, to having him all to yourself, as a dirty little secret— it felt empowering, too.

Rafe wasn't making any efforts to stay away from you, either. He couldn't fight what he felt, or the urges that arose every time he saw you. You were his, he saw no point in hiding it. Yes, he knew he wasn't a good influence on you and your friends would hate you both if they knew of your little rendezvous, but he didn't care. He wanted you.

ii.

Chances are, this wasn't a normal behavior, Rafe could at least acknowledge that.

Chances are, he looks obsessed and nearly psychotic while looking through your window, but, can you really blame him for staying? His original plan was to climb up your window and sneak into your bed, normally you'd be asleep at that hour, and he planned to surprise you– the thrill of it all, the risk of being caught, it turned him on.

What he didn't expect, though, was to catch you red-handed. Your hands were between your thighs, your head thrown back as heavy breaths escaped your lips, tangled with moans and grunts– perspiration covered your body, his eyes followed a single drop of sweat that rolled its way down between the valley of your breasts, making him wet his lips.

"Rafe..." you hadn't even realized you'd said his name, it came out so naturally, since he's the one occupying your mind.

Rafe’s grip on the window's ledge got impossibly tighter when he realized you weren't just touching yourself, no, no. You were touching yourself to the thought of him.

"Fuck, just like that..." you mumbled, a moan escaping your lips right after, your breath was rapid and he could basically hear you pant as your hand sped its movements.

He felt his dick twitching in his pants as the sounds of your moans reached his ears– he let out a low grunt, shuddering violently out of pleasure. Should he climb up and give you a hand? Fuck, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to touch you.

But then again, he could just let you desire him so badly you touched yourself, so desperate you'd basically throw yourself at him the next time you saw him.

He wanted you to crave him, lust him, to want him so bad you'd come running to his arms just so he could satisfy you.

Your mind and lust were fueled by the memory of his skin against yours, a thin layer of sweat between both as he kept his relentless pace– the memory of how it felt to have him between your legs had you clenching your walls around your fingers, trying to push them deeper.

But no matter how hard you tried, your fingers didn't suffice, your digits were not even close to his, as his were longer, thicker, faster– you felt empty without him. A wave of frustration took over you as the near orgasm washed away.

Rafe planned to leave, he was about to, but to see you this frustrated... he could not leave, not after seeing you being left unsatisfied by your own ministrations.

He got down from your window and hid behind a tall bush near your house, it was stupid and borderline childish behavior, but it would do for now.

Once he was sure he was out of sight, he texted a simple: 'U up?'

In less than a couple of minutes, you two had settled a mid-night fuck. When it was convenient, Rafe finally crawled up your window and sneaked into your room. He had barely made it in before you threw yourself at him, desperate to feel him against you, inside you, all over.

He immediately pushed you to the bed and crawled on top of you, his hands discarding your clothes swiftly as yours basically ripped his off, his lips trailed down your neck, leaving little teasing bites, while his hands caressed your legs.

"Fuck," you moaned out, feeling his hot breath near your wet core, his lips were merely teasing around your clit, slowly licking. "Rafe, don't tease."

"Where are your manners?"

"Don't–" you rolled your eyes as he sucked on your clit, barely. "Don't play with me."

"Isn't that what we do, huh princess?" he wondered, slowly teasing your entrance with his fingers, while he sucked on your clit. "We just play around with each other."

"Yes– that's all we do," you managed to say, your back arching at his ministrations. "and we have to stop, this is the last time we're doing this."

He stopped in his place. You were kidding, he knew you were kidding. You couldn't stay away from him, not even if you tried. You were bluffing.

"What is it?" you asked, gaping at him as he stood frozen at the end of your bed, slowly undoing his pants and pushing them down his hips.

He didn't say a word, he just took a hold of your ankles and pulled you to the edge of your bed, wrapping your legs around his hips, his arms caging you against the mattress– his hot chest pressed against your cold, perky tits, making him let out a groan at the sensation.

He pushed in slowly, making you feel every ridge, every vein, every curve, absolutely everything. Ever so slowly that every nerve of your core could feel him, his hips rocking slowly, moving in and out, in and out.

In an attempt to hide a desperate moan, you turned your head to the side, which he did not appreciate. He took a hold of your face, making you turn to look at him as he fastened his pace– his lips hovering over yours, his eyes meeting yours. You almost saw yourself reflected on the darkness of his eyes.

You clenched around him without noticing, and that was enough for him to pick up a speed that had you biting your lip to keep a moan in– it pissed him off to not be able to hear you, but the last thing he needed was for someone to walk in on you two right now, and while he wouldn't stop, you would.

You were a complete mess in his arms, he kissed you desperately and you matched the same energy, running your nails down his back as your heels pushed him closer to you– your pussy clenched around him repeatedly, the waves of pleasure almost uncontrollable when his hand sneaked between your bodies to rub your clit–  you felt tears of pleasure pooling on the edges of your eyes.

Rafe wanted to chuckle. 'This is the last time', were you even serious about that? You kept denying whatever was going on, saying that you'd had enough and that whatever flame between you two was dead. But your kisses and your body told him the complete opposite, he could always feel the way you cling to him, how your walls tighten around his cock, how you kiss him as if you wished the kiss would never end, how you hold on to him for dear life while you let him fuck you like a man possessed.– He could feel how much you want him, every single second.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He says, voice rough, words breathy and surprisingly honest despite the brutal, constant snap of his hips against yours, his pace is so unrelenting. “You could swear me off a hundred times, and I’d still be right here. ‘Cause the second you let yourself want me again— and you will— I’ll be waiting. Always.”

You could’ve sworn he was trying to leave an imprint of his cock inside you in case you actually pushed him away this time around, but even though your mind was screaming at you to do so, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Y-you think I’m just gonna let you talk me into this again after this?” Your hands push against his chest, but there’s no real force behind it. Your breath catches as his lips brush over your neck, his hips are going so fast it’s like he’s trying to fuck the arguments outta you . “You’re full of shit, Rafe.”

He smirks against your skin, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer, raising your body from the bed to have a deeper angle.. “You’ve been saying that for how long now? And yet… mmmph— fuck, here we are. You—ah- you tell yourself it’s nothing, but you’re still letting me in. Funny how that works.”

“Maybe I’m just bored.” But even as you say it, your voice wavers—like you don’t believe it yourself.

“Bored, huh?”

And just like that, he picked up his pace again, as if he’d never stopped in the first place, his hips snapping into yours with such brutality you were sure his hip bones would leave bruises on the back of your thighs. Every single thrust brought you closer and closer, and he knew it, of course he did. The fucker even chose to keep eye contact as he lowered his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, giving it a hard tug to then twirl the stiff peak with his hot tongue.

He hiked one of your legs even higher, allowing himself deeper angles, using his full body weight now to make sure he reached the deepest he could, where no one else would be, ever, if it were up to him.

You were so close, so so close now. Rafe could read your body like an open book with font size 70, so one of his hands slid down between your bodies, blindly finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles on it.

“You close baby?” He whispers in your ear, kissing the shell of your ear, reaching your earlobe and nipping on it. “Cmon, that’s it— mm fuck, you’re clenching down on me, that’s it, come for me, cmon, I’m here.”

It took a few more seconds before you found your climax again, body tensing up and your cunt squeezing down on his cock like you wanted to keep it there; sucking him in for all his worth. — That plus the moans? Please, Rafe came almost immediately after you.

He fell on top of you, at least being careful enough to not suffocate you under his weight, he peppered soft kisses on the sweaty skin of your neck, his nose subtly trailing over your skin. He finished with a kiss under your jaw, before pulling back just enough to be able to lay on the bed.

And you knew. You just knew he’d picked up the conversation from earlier.

“Bored, huh? So, you come to me every time you’re bored?” His tone shifts, teasing but with a hint of something softer, his breathing is heavy as he recovers from the activity. “This? I’m gonna be honest with you, princess, since you insist on acting daft. This seems like more than just sex to me.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for anything more, Rafe.” Your voice drops, almost defensive. “We don’t do that… feelings thing.”

His expression changed, eyes searching yours, but there’s still that edge of cocky confidence. “You keep saying that like it’ll make it true. But every time we’re together, it’s not just the usual… you know.” He glances down at your tangled bodies, the sweat, the intimacy, then back at your face. “I feel it. And I know you do too.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, the vulnerability in his words catching you off guard. “You’re not making this easy. Why are you making this so— we’re supposed to absolutely hate each other.”

“Don’t twist it, I never said it was supposed to be easy. And I know damn well that I should hate you, but I don’t want to. And I’m not just here for the damn sex. Not anymore.” His voice is quieter now, more serious. “I want you… more than you’re willing to admit.”

You hold his gaze, searching for any sign that this isn’t just another one of his games. But what you find there is different—real.

“You’re such an asshole.” But there’s a soft smile on your lips, and for once, it’s not mocking. “But… I guess I want you too.”

[siennawrites-blog]

★ — cop!rafe making his dumb girl feel smart after his buddies made fun of her !!

cw: : smut, eighteen plus content, unprotected sex, semi-public, heavy heavy praise, cussing, aftercare

cop!rafe x dumb!reader

you were so excited for this. you’d been talking about it for weeks—“omg, rafey, a fancy dinner? with cops? like, real ones?”—while spinning around your bedroom in three different mini dresses that were all technically inappropriate for a formal event, but rafe didn’t have the heart to stop you. he just sat on your bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching you twirl like a proud, tired boyfriend, biting the inside of his cheek when you landed on the satin pink one that barely reached mid-thigh.

now here you were. strutting into a fully catered police banquet with your hand wrapped tightly around rafe’s arm, hair curled to perfection, sparkly heels clicking with every step. you looked like a barbie doll in a room full of navy blue uniforms and neutral-colored cocktail dresses—and you loved it. you beamed up at your man the whole time, practically bouncing as he led you to the table reserved for officers being honored. the room was full of polished silverware, white tablecloths, and tight smiles. everyone looked… serious. clean. reserved. but you were a little slice of chaos wrapped in pink satin and lip gloss.

“babe,” you whispered excitedly, leaning into his arm as you sat beside him, “i think this bread is, like, free.” you tore a piece off and popped it in your mouth. “that’s, like, so nice of them.” rafe didn’t say anything. just reached under the table to rest a hand on your thigh, giving it a slow squeeze. you smiled at him like he hung the moon, completely oblivious to the looks you were getting from the other end of the table.

one of the wives leaned toward another, whispering something behind her glass of red wine. the two of them giggled, then not-so-subtly looked at your bow-covered purse and bedazzled nails. you didn’t notice. you were too busy trying to figure out if the guy across from you was a sheriff or “like, just a mall cop.”

“wait,” you leaned into rafe again, lowering your voice but still loud enough for the table to hear, “are firefighters invited to this too? or is it, like, just real cops?”

the table went awkwardly quiet. a few people chuckled—but not in a nice way. rafe didn’t laugh. he just reached for his water, jaw tightening, eyes narrowing as they passed over the people across from him. you blinked, confused, and reached for another piece of bread. “this is like, super fancy applebee’s. i love it.”

one of the men scoffed, “don’t,” rafe muttered under his breath, squeezing your thigh harder.

you looked up at him, pouting slightly. “did i say something bad?”

he turned to you, expression unreadable, “no, baby. you’re perfect.” and then he stood, “come with me.”

you blinked. “where’re we—?”

“now.”

you took his hand, confused but obedient, heels clicking against the marble floor as he pulled you away from the table. you kept glancing over your shoulder, giving the others a cute little wave, still not understanding why they weren’t smiling back. he led you down a quiet hallway, past the catering staff, past the restrooms—until he found a private door with no name on it.

the second the lock clicked behind him, rafe had you pinned to the wall. your gasp barely had time to echo before his mouth was on yours—hot, demanding, needy. his hands were everywhere at once, one gripping your thigh and hauling your leg up around his waist, the other wrapped around the back of your neck like he couldn’t stand being even an inch away from you. you whimpered into the kiss, breath already shaky from the sudden shift, your gloss smearing between you.

“rafe?” you giggled, a little breathless. “what’re you doing? we’re gonna get caught…”

“good,” he growled, hand already sliding under your dress, fingers curling around your ass. “let those assholes hear how much you fucking belong to me.”

your heart fluttered at the possessiveness in his voice, your core already aching from the way his hips ground into yours, slow and deliberate. you could feel his erection through his uniform pants, pressing right between your legs. you blinked up at him, eyes wide and dazed. “wait… are you mad?” he didn’t answer with words—just grabbed your waist and spun you toward the desk behind you, bending you over the edge with one firm shove. the satin of your dress rode up instantly, bunching around your hips as you gasped, palms flat on the cool surface. “rafe—!”

“be quiet,” he snapped, already unbuckling his belt, the sound sharp and fast and filthy. “you don’t even know, do you?”

you peeked over your shoulder, lashes fluttering. “know what?”

“why they were laughing at you.”

you blinked, confused. “who was?”

he stepped up behind you, dragging your baby blue thong down with one hard tug and letting it fall around your ankles. his voice dropped, dangerously low, “they were making fun of you.”

you froze for half a second—then softened again, relaxing back into the desk with a pout, “ohhh. why?! what’d i do?!”

rafe clenched his jaw, running his hand up your spine until it wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you gently back down against the wood, “you didn’t even notice,” he muttered, pulling himself free and lining up behind you. “too busy bein’ such a sweetheart. all you wanna do is be good for me, yeah?”

you nodded, face flushed against the desk. “uh-huh…”

out of your line of sight, rafe nodded in agreement before slipping his red tip into your soaked pussy. he bottomed out, pulling you flush against him before gripping your ass cheeks and snapping his hips back and forth. you moaned—loud, needy, your hips instantly rocking back into him like your body had been waiting for this.

“oh my gosh,” you gasped. “you feel so good… rafe, i—fuckk, i think i saw stars for a second—”

“you don’t have to think, baby,” he growled, thrusting hard enough to make the desk creak under you. “i’ll do it for you.” you whimpered, back arching. his grip on your waist was bruising now, pulling you back into each thrust like he wanted to bury himself inside you forever. “they don’t get to talk about you,” he muttered, bending over you, hips slamming into yours with every word. “they don’t get to laugh. don’t even get to fuckin’ look.” your lip gloss was smearing against the desk, your moans turning to helpless little whines. “only i do,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear. “only i get to see you like this. bent over, fuckin’ soakin’ wet—taking me so damn good.”

you nodded, gasping, legs shaking. “y-yeah—only you, only you—”

“that’s right.” his voice dropped to a low murmur, suddenly softer, breath hot against your neck. “you’re so good for me, baby. so sweet. so fucking smart.” you choked on a breath, crying into the desk, “my perfect girl,” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder as he rutted into you. “i love you so much.”

your whole body jolted from how deep he was, how slow he moved now—not rough anymore, not punishing—just claiming. deep, grinding thrusts that made your legs shake and your breath hitch with every roll of his hips. his mouth stayed on your skin, trailing slow, open kisses along your shoulder and neck like he couldn’t stop worshipping you even if he tried. “you feel so good, baby,” he breathed, voice shaking with it. “taking me so perfect. you’re always so perfect.” you whimpered, barely able to form words, your head spinning. your lip was caught between your teeth, eyes glossy, mouth parted as you gasped softly every time he pushed back inside.

“i’m not even mad anymore,” he murmured, one hand sliding down the curve of your stomach as his chest pressed flush to your back. “they’re just fuckin’ jealous. so jealous i get to come home to the sweetest, prettiest, smartest little thing they’ve ever seen.”

you let out a broken little moan, blinking back tears as your hips twitched against his, “i’m not smart, rafey,” you mumbled, dazed.

he grabbed your face gently from behind, fingers curled along your jaw as he turned your head to kiss your cheek. “don’t say that.” his voice was soft—but serious. serious in that way that made your chest flutter, “you’re smart where it counts. you know how to love me. how to make me feel like a man. that’s more than any of them could ever do.” you gasped at another slow thrust, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. he followed your reaction with another kiss to your temple, his hand still gently cupping your jaw, “you know how to make me proud.”

you let out a little hiccup, overwhelmed—eyes fluttering shut as your body clenched down around him. he groaned at the feeling. “that’s it, sweetheart. you feel that?” another thrust—deep. “that’s how good you are for me. you’re my perfect girl.” you were unraveling under him, his uniform brushing against your skin, his hand still holding your face as he slowed even more—grinding into you like he was trying to melt into your body, “say it,” he whispered against your ear. “say you’re my perfect girl.”

you sobbed out a soft, whiny, “i’m your perfect girl…” and he melted.

“yeah, you are.” another kiss. a soft groan. his hand slid down to your stomach again, holding you tight while his hips moved with a lazy, desperate rhythm. “my good girl. my smart girl. my fuckin’ baby.” you were trembling now—every part of you raw and worshipped and full. and when you came for him, gasping his name like it was the only thing you remembered, rafe followed right after, pressing his chest to your back and whispering “i’ve got you, baby. i’ve always got you.”

you were still shaking, forehead resting against the desk, soft little whimpers leaving your lips every time your body twitched from aftershocks. your skin was flushed, your legs barely holding you up, and your lip gloss was completely gone. rafe stayed close. one hand still wrapped loosely around your waist, the other trailing down your back—soft, soothing. like he was petting you. like he couldn’t stop touching you even now. “you okay, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing the back of your neck.

you nodded weakly, blinking back the dizzy tears in your lashes. “mhm…”

rafe smiled—soft and real. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the spot between your shoulder blades, then carefully reached for your hips and helped ease you upright. you stumbled a little and caught yourself on his chest. “whoa—hey, i got you.” his arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close as he helped you sit on the edge of the desk. “just breathe, pretty girl. we’re good. you’re okay.”

you blinked up at him, mascara smudged, eyes glossy, lips kiss-bitten and pouty. you looked wrecked—and he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “my legs feel like jell-o…” you mumbled, voice all soft and floaty.

he huffed a little laugh and kissed your forehead. “yeah? that’s ‘cause you took me like a damn champ, baby.”

his hand slid between your thighs, gentle this time, and he cleaned you up with one of the tissues he always kept in his pocket for exactly this kind of chaos. you whined at the sensitivity, and he shushed you sweetly, brushing his nose against your cheek, “you did so good, baby. so, so good for me. i’m so proud of you.”

you smiled dreamily, playing with the collar of his uniform while he adjusted your panties back into place and smoothed your dress down over your thighs. he straightened your straps, fixed your necklace, and wiped the corners of your mouth with the gentlest touch. “do i look pretty still?” you whispered, eyes wide and hopeful.

he tilted your chin up and gave you the softest kiss—slow and loving, the kind that made your heart feel full. “you look beautiful.” he kissed your cheek. “like an angel.” another kiss. “like the smartest, prettiest little thing in this whole damn building.”

you giggled. “even with mascara under my eyes?”

“especially with mascara under your eyes.”

you giggled again, wrapping your arms around his waist like he hadn’t just destroyed your body over a desk. he held you there, big hands sliding down to your hips—then squeezing your ass without warning.

“rafe!” you squealed, although showing to attempt at stopping him.

he smirked, kissing your pout away. “sorry, couldn’t help it. still mine.”

“always yours,” you whispered, hiding your smile in his chest.

he hugged you tighter. “damn right.”

pink bow divider : @bernardsbendystraws  <3

a/n: thank you anon for telling me your dream about cop!rafe hehe

[siennawrites-blog]

ᯓ★ MINORS DNI 18+

RAFE CAMERON hits it from the back n curls an arm around to get at your clit. at first he started doing it so you could cum but now he does it like it’s some fidget toy. he’s got all this energy and nowhere to put it, ugly licking at the tips of his fingers to wet them so he can go under you to swipe at your needy bud. the kind of pressure that makes you ache. it’s this bewildering cross between pain and pleasure, and it renders you unable to keep still. “yeah? yeah, you like that, baby?” he taunts cruelly, knowing the kind of torture you’re under right now. lodged up in your guts moving in tandem with rough fingers, caressing your clit like it’s a job while you’re incapable of speech. you writhe and you claw at the sheets, anything to occupy the bucking of your body and the agony of the sensation. choking out variations of his name in some sorry semblance for pleading mercy—ultimately it falls on deaf ears. it’s the kind of orgasm he takes from you, your gummy insides stinging from his dick digging out its own shape and a mean hand scrubbing your little pearl like it’s a playground bully.