anareblogs-posts

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 @𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐳-𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

[anareblogz-posts]

introducing @anareblogz-posts this is my second blog where I reblog posts of all fandoms ⋆ my main blog is @anawritez-posts ⋆ she/her ⋆ twenty-eight ⋆ girly from Aotearoa/ New Zealand. content writer ⋆ obsessed w/ writing Slytherin Boys ⋆ and married to Renee Rapp ⋆ also if you like f1 be my friend ty ⋆

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ⋆ main blog ⋆ reblog blog ⋆

[barleyo]

Incest Homelander pls!!💕💕

Royal.

Father! Homelander X Brat! Daughter! Reader

A/N: this means something to me... i can't believe i haven't already written something like this for john tbh, this is literally my jam. anyways, i hope you enjoy <3

Tags: incest (father-daughter), age gap (40s-18), no ryan in this au sadly, sweet john, spoiled reader, bratty reader, fingering, pussy pronouns, slight ooc

Wordcount: 2.5k

John always thought that should he ever have a child, he would want a boy. A son, the spitting image of him, who he could raise in his own honor. A young boy who could fulfill his bidding and be his own perfect, little soldier. It would be perfect, he thought, to have a mini-him walking around, just as strong and capable, just without the weaknesses that he detested himself for having. No trauma to weigh him down and make him vulnerable. 

Then, he had you and his mind was promptly changed. 

He was sickened by the idea of ever having a son, post-haste. Boys were messy, he figured, and noisy. They were rude and aggressive, showed no respect, and were far from kind. They couldn’t give him the warm-hearted, gentle validation he needed. A boy wouldn’t cling and love and treasure him as a father. And what if a son tried to usurp his status, rather than compliment it? What, did he need another disturbance in his life? Another thing to cause him problems and add to the heaping pile of stress that was his day-to-day life? A boy would be an issue for him. A real burden.

From your first breath, you were an angel. You were tiny and fit exactly in the palm of his hand. Your crying had been soft music to his ears rather than the grating annoyance he thought it would be. He had never been near something so delicate and not felt a desire to destroy it until now. Usually, weakness in any form sickened him to his core. Not you, though, his perfect daughter. He would die before he would let anything irritate you, let alone hurt you. 

He raised you himself, with the helping hand of only the best nannies available. Your mother, some broad he had saved on patrol and had a little fun with, was promptly discarded after your birth. He didn’t want her in the picture, influencing you, changing your mind about him.

He kept you tightly locked away from the outside world, Vought Towers being your only home. You lived, learned, and flourished there for all of your life, surrounded by supes and feeling only the best sides of your father that he saved specifically for you. 

You heard the heat of his cruel, commanding tone he had to take with others. Never felt scorned or berated by him. He kept it all so separate in order to keep you happy and sweet for him, fully satisfied. Even without powers, you were perfect. His little princess. You listened, he rewarded, and that was the natural state of your relationship. 

Until your eighteenth birthday. Then things seemed to change. 

You were still his little darling, of course, but you had become brattier. This had never happened before, he wasn’t used to it in the slightest. His precious angel hit a mean streak—it rocked him, at first, but he couldn’t say he fully minded it. He liked you with a little bite, even when it was aimed at him. Mostly, though, he liked to hear you mouth off at others. 

Recently, the Deep had become one of your recent targets, a fact that Homelander was ecstatic about. 

He had never liked your relationship with him. You insisted on calling him “Uncle Kevin,” snuggling up to him during meetings, hanging his posters on your walls. He was the closest thing you had to family, next to your father, and you grew extremely attached to him, completely unaware of how he perved on you. It made your father sick, but far be it from him to take anything, or anyone, you liked away. He was just grateful that you seemed to find spite for Deep yourself.

You were at the head of the meeting table, sitting in your daddy’s chair while he stood behind you, running a gloved hand through your hair. The members of The Seven trickled in slowly, taking their proper seats. 

The Deep walked in last, eyeing you with confusion. Normally, you were all too eager to sit with him, curled on his lap or wrapped around him in a suffocating embrace during meetings. Now you were across the table and grumbling under your breath, knees to your chest. 

“What, too good to sit with me now, sweetheart?” Deep teased, eyebrows wiggling at you. He tapped his thigh and looked at you expectantly. “Come sit.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Deep. Someone’s moody,” your dad said, voice teetering on severe yet his hands remaining gentle as they threaded through your hair. “Isn’t that right?”

You huffed and mumbled something about going back to your father’s penthouse, to which he responded with a resounding, cooing “no.” 

“Let me turn that frown upside down," Deep said, giving you his signature smirk that usually wore you down. Not this time, apparently.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms tightly against your chest, leaning back into the plushness of the chair. “I don’t even want to be here,” you whined, lips pursing, “and I don't want to sit next to you either, Uncle Kevin. Leave me alone!”

Your dad chuckled softly, slowly running his hands down your little shoulders, feeling the tension in them. 

“Well? You heard her.”

Your grandfather was slowly also earning himself a spot on your list of annoying, stupid men who agitated you. 

You loved Soldier Boy because your father did, but you always knew he was an old creep. It never bothered you enough to speak out, not when he used to let his eyes trail over your body and made thinly-veiled sexual comments. He would tease and touch you whenever he got the chance. He was a relic of his time and you understood that, but he was grating your nerves more than usual today.

He had you perched on his lap, smoking a cigar, recounting what he referred to as his glory days. His hand gripped your hip, keeping you still while he slowly bounced his knee, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

Trailing off from his story, he hummed and stroked your hipbone. “You know,” he said languidly, “I got real lucky with you, didn’t I? You’re just a doll.”

You let out a soft sigh and placed a foot on the floor, trying to still his movement between your legs. God, he was persistent. “Thank you, grandpa,” you rehearsed. He did this every single time your father dropped you off. He’d start off innocent enough, chatting you up, then he’d strike. 

“And you really are a pretty little thing,” he continued, blowing smoke right into your face with a deep laugh. “And so nice to Grandpa Ben, sweet as syrup. Let me get a look at you.” He lifted your chin with his free hand, examining your face under the dim light. “Mm, what a blessing. Not like your father,” he said through a sneer, “that fuckin’ loser. How’d somethin’ like him make somethin’ like you, baby? Doesn’t make sense, now does it?”

You had bit your tongue before. It was tolerable when he was creeping on you and babbling about your looks and figure, but you hated it when he spoke about your father like that. Your dad was off limits and he knew that, and now he had really earned himself a taste of your attitude. Only you could speak on your father, for better or worse.

“You’re one to talk,” you spat, pushing off of his lap. “You’re the real loser, sitting around, day dreaming about when you were relevant, what, seventy years ago?”

“Excuse me?” your grandfather asked, intrigued but far from shocked. 

“Stop talking about my dad like that,” you said, pointing your finger right in his face. “He’s twice the hero you ever were and—” you paused, unsure of what to say next, “—and you’re just an old creep!”

He raised a brow slightly before stubbing out his cigar and standing to his full height. While you knew your father would never strike you, your grandfather was a wildcard, and odds were that the 1950s never truly left his spirit. 

He grabbed your arm and tugged you towards his chest, staring down at you with a half-snarl, half-smirk. “Back in my day, women knew when to keep silent,” he chided, pressing a finger to your plump lips. “My babydoll’s growing up to be one of those ‘independent’ women, huh? I won’t have you acting like a bi—”

Your grandfather’s words were cut short by your father appearing in the doorway, his smile tight and artificial.

“Dad,” he said as curtly as possible, nodding to your grandfather with unreadable eyes. 

Ben begrudgingly let go of your arm, giving you another once over. “So, what? I suppose you’re here to take my granddaughter away from me again? She’s my girl too, you know.”

John hummed, barely humoring your grandfather. “Well, she’s still got a bedtime, dad. Come on, princess,” he said, flashing you an apologetic look. He knew how his own father could be; Ben wasn’t appreciative enough of your preciousness. 

“Yes, daddy.” You hooked your arm through his and breathed a sigh of relief. “Bye, Grandpa Ben.”

“We’ll visit grandpa another day, hm? Maybe a day where all three of us can be together,” he said, clear warning lining his voice as he gave his father a final look, guiding you out of the door. 

“You’re always leaving,” you spat angrily at your father, watching him prepare himself for a scheduled mission.

This was set to be a big one—-some drug ring facade meant to push Vought’s conservative image. Ashley had been riding his ass about it for weeks, squawking in that tinny, irritating voice of hers about public approval rates. Apparently he had fallen just under the predicted quota, so of course everyone made it their business to agitate him about a missing tenth of a percentage. 

He would be gone for a few days, a week or two minimum, leaving you all alone in his penthouse. He had asked Ben to keep an eye on you while he was away, but God knew you had something to say about that too. 

He adjusted one of his gloves, giving himself a quick look in the mirror. His eyes glazed over seeing himself, flashed his artificially signature smile, and spoke. “You know that last thing I want to do is be away from you, princess,” he said, peeking at your fuming reflection in the glass. “I have to work, don’t I?”

You stayed perched on the couch, arms folded and face twisted in a scowl. 

Honestly, you weren't sure why you were so upset. Your father was practically the most important man alive and you knew that it came with responsibilities. This was nothing new, in fact, you used to be excited when he would go on longer missions. It gave you time to be mischievous without his watchful eye on you. 

Now, though, his absence felt like a personal attack and a betrayal. Did he think you didn’t need your daddy anymore? Now that you had reached eighteen, you were to be left without? As if you no longer mattered—just something to be cooped up and kenneled like a shelter dog when he was busy?

You bit your lip at the thought, losing yourself in hypotheticals that only served to piss you off further. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, turning around to give you one of his real smiles, small but genuine. Those were special, only for you, his special girl.

“Yeah, well, don’t hurry back,” you said, letting the words out quickly like acid on your tongue. “I’m fine without you. More than fine.”

He felt his eye twitch at your tone but ignored it, instead choosing to press a sweet kiss to your forehead before he left. 

That only made you feel worse. 

You wished he would lash out at you, just once. Put you in your place and take notice of your behavior. Part of you was doing it out of true frustration, but the other part was desperate for attention, and he wasn't giving into you the way you craved.

“What’s the issue now, angel?” your father asked as you draped yourself on his lap, whining to yourself with your head to his chest. 

“You don’t love me anymore.”

He nearly snorted, knowing this was just your melodrama at action. Should you have ever actually felt that way, he would simply die, but the mewl in your tone told him you were just feeling needy. 

“Why do you think that?” 

You leaned your head forward, slumping into yourself while he kept your body still with one arm loosely wrapped around your waist. “Because I’ve been so mouthy lately,” you explained, pouting. “You always say I’m your good girl, but I’ve been bad all week. Been mean to everyone, even you, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not true,” he said, running his palm over your tummy, easily trailing over your body in comforting waves. “My sweet princess could never be bad. You just feel a little neglected, don’t you?” He took a deep inhale at the crown of your head, groaning to himself at the warm, decadent scent of you. “I haven’t made enough time for you, no wonder you have acted out.”

He felt a brief flash of shame and guilt course through his body. He knew you were likely being dramatic with your need for attention, but the thought that he was depriving you at all hurt him. He knew first hand what it felt like—emotional starvation—and he had subjected his baby to the same thing. 

You felt John slip his hands under your panties and rub slow, gentle circles. You writhed against him, leaning your head backwards against his shoulder. “Daddy?” you whined, confused at the new feeling. “What’re you doing?”

A big finger curled in, sneaking its way through your folds and into your tight cunt. There was resistance, a tight ring of muscle to fight through, but that only made your father try to work another digit in. His sweet, virginal girl.

“She’s never had anything in there, has she, baby?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “It feels a little funny, doesn’t it?”

You weren’t being bratty on purpose, he figured. You just weren’t used to the neediness and desire that came with being a girl your age. You had never needed this type of attention from your daddy before, but now that you did, he would give it to you in spades.

“Now, be still,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Let daddy make it better.”

[onlineqtgirl]

obsessed with your voice dex would totally jerk himself off when otp with you.

you’d be laying on your bed, talking dex’s ears off about your frustrating work day. you’d hear the occasional, “mhm..” “oh man that sucks..” “im sorry that happened to you baby.” from dex as you blabber. soon dex becomes quiet, his responses lessen, and you hear his breathing become heavier and louder. “hey babe, are you okay?” you ask, curious as to his change in demeanor. on the other side of the phone, dex is fisting himself as he pumps his hand up and down his cock dripping of pre cum. “m-mhm.. just keep talking baby…” he groans. dex tries his best to hold in his moans but he can’t help but let a few slip out. you try to ignore it, playing coy. sometimes you stop talking for a new seconds to hear his needy whimpers for you. “b-baby… where’d you g-go..?” as the slick sound of his hand going down his cock fills the background noise. dex’s chest rises as he waits for you to keep talking before he jerks himself off again, edging himself to the cadence of your arousing voice. you hear him picking up his pace and his heavy breathing taking over his audio. you hear a groan and know he finished all over his stomach. his cum spewing from his sensitive tip and his head thrown back in pleasure. “thank you baby… thank you so much..” dex says breathlessly.

[n3ptoonz]

Genuinely believe this man would canonically have a voice/audio kink (auralism) ol freak ass (he's just like me.)

[snwfairy]

caring for you from the dark.

benjamin poindexter x reader | fic, 1.6k words.

cw - stalking, depression, dex steals your clothes.

dex who notices you’re depressed before anyone else.

it’s easy to when he’s inserted himself into your life like an all seeing eye. watching from the rooftop across from your apartment. dex thinks at first that you’re just having a rough couple of days, then a funk, but soon he realizes how it doesn’t go away. it creeps into your life slowly. he watches it overtake your life.

it wears you down and you seem to fight less and less to the feeling.

late nights that you can’t sleep. mornings where leaving the bed seems like a monumental task. you move slower. dragging your feet and raising your arms slowly as if a weighted blanket had been thrown over you. you shower less, your hair tangles as dry shampoo cakes in it, your outfits go unplanned as you instead grab the laundry that smells the least.

you used to cook meals for yourself. joyfully dancing around your kitchen as you cooked but now takeout boxes seem to be piling up. if you eat, that is, because meals seem to be more scarce than before.

dex would know because he’d been synching the times he ate with yours, so when he finally involved himself in your life, he’d fit in as perfect as possible.

he sees how tasks take longer for you to complete. you get less done at work. it stresses you more. chatting with your co-worker over coffee becomes less of an event than it was before. turning into a few minutes of small talk that you seem to be barley able to smile through. there’s no pep in your step as you walk through the office.

at home it isn’t any better. dex watches as your apartment turns into a visual representation of your mind. a few dishes turn into a stack that molds. laundry overtakes the hamper and becomes an endless pile in the corner of the room that eventually falls. you don’t pick it up. the dust on your shitty tile floors is so apparent that even he can see it through his lens. nothing is in it’s right place.

the part that hurts him the most is how your smile fades. you put on one in front of others. your friends, your co-workers, and the cashiers or employees you interact with. dex sees how you really feel though. how quickly it drops when the person stops looking. how you look empty, staring off at things as if your trapped inside your head.

you can’t hide your true feelings from him. not as he watches over you. studies you. he’d never let you lie to him like that.

dex feels sick as he watches the light inside of you flicker away. almost a year he had spent following you like a lighthouse calling out to a sailor. but it’s growing duller day by day. at first, he was angry in a way. at you or maybe at the situation, he wasn’t sure which. he was confused too. how someone as full of life and goodness and sincerity and perfection, could ever struggle so much.

he settled on feeling in pain. aching alongside you.

at the fact that he knows exactly how you feel. he had spent so much of his life feeling the same way. like a dark cloud was hanging over him. like static noise played inside his head 24/7. weeks, months, and even years of his life that seemed to fade into nothingness due to the poison that swam around his head. no direction, no purpose. he had always found it in others - dr. mercer, julie, and now you.

but your light was dimming and he knows that he can’t watch you die out.

clearly the people in your life, the so-called friends who you seem to hangout with less these days, aren’t doing a proper job of taking care of you. maybe they just aren’t as attentive and keen as he is. regardless, dex can’t handle the helpless and panicked feeling he gets as he watches your condition worsen. before he knows it, he’s convinced himself that it’s time to take things into his own hands.

he decides to start with your apartment.

a better space will give you the room to begin feeling better. plus, it bothers him. dex prefers things neat and orderly. he likes knowing that everything had a place. it kept his head clear, and he hopes it’ll do the same for you.

dex tells himself that it doesn’t count as breaking and entering. this was for you, to help you, to ease the weight off your shoulders. he starts as soon as you leave for work. dex is a quick cleaner even in your overwhelming apartment. he wishes he had done it sooner.

when you come home that evening, your apartment is spotless. it would be unnerving, well it is, if it wasn’t for how good it makes you feel.

for the first time in months, every dish in your place was washed, dried, and put into it’s designated spot. the inside of your fridge has had all the very, very old food removed and replaced with meal prepped dinners. any and every surface glimmers under the lights from how wiped clear it’s been. the bathroom completely cleaned too, including all the hair out of the shower.

even mount laundry had been dealt with then neatly folded and put up. dex is glad to see that you don’t seem to notice some peices missing from your closet.

you get an email later from your apartment management saying that they had let cleaners into some of the apartments. something about free promotional work. weirdly, none of your neighbors seem to know what your talking about when you mention it later that week. you tell yourself that they must had not been chosen.

dex watches your confused but happy look when you first come home. smiling with pride that he had helped you in some way. he thinks it helps, you seem a bit lighter even if it doesn’t last much too long.

but that’s okay.

because this had proved to him that inserting himself into your life would be good for you. he was prepared. he had studied you enough. so much so that he was able to realize how under water you were getting. he could slip into your life and fit perfectly. at least he would once he got you back to normal.

now dex knows that he just needs to go further.

a stranger at your favorite coffee shop. he offers to pay for your coffee. it’s something small that makes your day a littl easier. it helps that he had a pretty face to go along with it. he’s there the next time you go in and the time after that. him buying your coffee turns into small talk that turn into you offering to sit with him. you don’t really want to talk, and dex knows that, but he also knew that you’d feel like you owed to him.

you were so kind like that. it’s all he needs.

dex had practiced this. practiced the questions, the conversations, and the facial expressions he’d need. staring into the mirror for hours as he went through the different possibilities. he wouldn’t let himself get caught off guard like he did with julie. this was too important. because to dex, this wasn’t just about getting into your life. it was about saving you.

he tells you his name is tony. gives you a soft smile. he asks you inviting, non-threatening questions at first. you’ll become more comfortable with him. you’re easy to talk to. he’s seems like he is too, it’s easy to when he’s assimilated all your interests into his life.

then he’ll tilt his head. narrow his eyes in a way that is kind and not threatening. he’ll ask you softly “you know, this might be weird for me to say, but i used to work a hotline call center. you just… you seem like maybe you’re going through a hard time. are you?”

it’s going so well.

you let him in. you’re too trusting like that, dex knows that’s something the two of you will need to work on. something for later. you admit to him that you’ve been struggling. you haven’t told anyone but, then again, no one but he had asked.

dex reaches out to you and you let him.

dex can’t stop his smile from widening when he touches your hand. he has to work hard not to let his thoughts drift away from the excitement of touching you for the first time. it feels surreal. dex, or rather tony, gently holds your hand.

“it’s okay. we all go through hard times,” he had remembered that line from the script they used at the hotline call center, “i can be there for you. if you’ll let me.”

you smile at him. a real smile. dex could tell it from rooftops away.

and just like that, another troubling thing had crawled it’s way into your life. this one capable of being even more suffocating and possessive than the other. on the bright side, dex was positive that his willpower would be stronger than anything troubling your head. he’d chase it away.

because to dex, the only darkness that deserved to bathe in your pool of light was himself.

*: ꔫ :* thanks for reading! if you’d like to see more of me use the links below! masterlist. homepage.

[hypnoism]

Your yandere! stalker has a surprisingly neat room; items tucked tidily in boxes according to its own group. A juxtaposition from your own.

He brings you home, tying you in the middle of his cramped apartment that's adorned with pictures and files of you all over the walls. It looks like he's been investigating something, and you wished it wasn't you, but it is.

There's every hospital file of you from young to now, and random, candid pictures of you that leaves an eerie feeling at the pit of your stomach.

A part of you wants to run, but another pulling you into him— the only man to have shown an interest in you. Maybe that's happened for a reason.

He lives a quiet life, not flashy with luxuries nor anything to make him stick out.

So now, maybe he's indulging in one of his deepest desires: you.

Except he's left you alone for quite a while now with no form of entertainment nearby. Not anymore though, since he's entered the room.

"How are you? I'm hoping it wasn't too lonely without me," he says, placing down the suspiciously filled bag onto the counter of his kitchen before making his way to you.

"What do you want from me?" you ask.

He gives you an amused look. "Isn't it obvious?"

You tilt your head slightly. "I'm afraid not,"

"I want..." he pauses, a creepy smile fading into his face, "you."

[divinefemnine]

❜୧ 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐅!𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

toxic bf!rafe who only noticed you after his sister started dating john b and brought the rest of the group over to tannyhill one night. his eyes were immediately drawn to you, but if anyone asked him at the time he would deny it.

toxic bf!rafe who slowly started meddling in your life once he realized nothing was going to get his mind off of you. for example, he’d intentionally sabotage your route to the country club, so when you arrived late for work he was conveniently there to come to your defense as your boss yelled at you.

toxic bf!rafe who acts nothing but sweet around you, which effectively makes you question why the other pogues talk about him like he’s the devil reincarnate.

toxic bf!rafe who buys you a whole new wardrobe once you officially begin dating, and when you’re reluctant to accept it he assures you it’s normal in relationships (it’s not).

toxic bf!rafe who starts guilt tripping you into coming to parties with his friends, and just sits there quietly as they casually insult your friends, much to your disappointment. however when you confront him about it, he starts yelling and twisting the situation to make it seem like it was your fault. just as quickly, he’s apologizing and slipping back into the caring façade that made you fall in love with him, confusing the hell out of you.

toxic bf!rafe who secretly goes through your phone and deletes any texts from the pogues asking you to hangout, then acts none the wiser when you come crying to him because your friends have started acting cold towards you “out of the blue.”

toxic bf!rafe who brings up the fact that he pays for everything in your relationship whenever you get in an argument, which has been becoming more and more frequent.

toxic bf!rafe who seizes every opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in your mind about your friends, until you’re second-guessing every interaction. after all, from his perspective, he’s only doing what’s best for you.

toxic bf!rafe who intentionally starts a physical fight with jj or pope, then shows up at your doorstep bruised and bloody, effectively gaslighting you into believing that it was initiated by them for no reason.

toxic bf!rafe who thinks he successfully turned you from a nobody-pogue to a picture perfect kook princess.

[neodazed]

possessive!rafe headcannons

notes : im just getting small tastes of writing for rafe, so consider this more of a try than smth thats supposed to be good. reader is a pogue. i try to write season2 canon accurate(ish) rafe even in this snippet. its toxic and controlling, theres sex-related stuff, some violent shit, an ugly header and a dream.

possessive!rafe who isn’t just simply the jealous type, but a control freak who sees you as one of his possesions (he’s proud to have)

possessive!rafe loves seeing you in his clothes

possessive!rafe who hates all your little pogue friends (for being pogues, for starters), but also because of how folksy they are with each other, regardless of gender

possessive!rafe who thinks opposite gender friendships are bullshit (for both of you)

possessive!rafe showers you with expensive jewelry, including a necklace with an R medal, and gets annoyed when you forget to put it on

possessive!rafe who doesn’t mind you posting yourself on social media as long as you tag him visibly (he doesn’t even use those platforms)

possessive!rafe who is a menace when it comes to hickies…

possessive!rafe who doesn’t care if you wear low-cut tops because your neck-to-chest area is full of said hickies

possessive!rafe who picks up your phone if your friends call you mid-fuck to let them know you’re busy taking his dick<3

possessive!rafe is a raw sex-only type of guy because he sees no intimacy in using a condom. he’s clean, you’re clean, there are other protections. it’s not like you’ll ever fuck someone else

possessive!rafe loves to paint you with his cum (especially your insides and your back)

possessive!rafe who wants to have your location on (and makes it happen even if you intially refuse)

possessive!rafe would develop a hatred towards your family if they didn’t allow you to be together

possessive!rafe wanting you to leave all traces of pouge-ish lifestyle behind, possibly quit your job if it was located on the cut, live in his home, hangout where he does, with the circle he deems to be safe and worthy

possessive!rafe “freaks out on you” on rare occasions when he feels like something/someone is really threatening to your realitionship with him — a table slam, a broken glass, a hole in a wall, throat grabbing a little too rough…then comes the half-hearted the apology.

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ cockwarming bsf!rafe during a movie.

warnings — 18+ MDNI. mixture of innocent!reader & bestfriend!reader x bsf!rafe. cockwarming. slight manipulation.

cherie’s note — going through personal stuff irl + a heatwave right now, got me soooo tired and exhausted all the time LOLL. sorry for the late posts! <3

you should've known better than to let rafe sit so close.

he always does this. eases himself into your space, little by little, until your legs are tangled and your sides are pressed together beneath the scratchy blanket — which is draped more on your side than his, if we're being honest. he sprawls across the couch like it belongs to him — like you belong to him — and you're so used to it, you don't even push him away anymore.

the movie plays, but you're hardly watching it. you can feel his shoulder brushing yours. his knee keeps tapping against your thigh every so often when he shifts that much closer. his warmth crawls up your skin, dizzying your mind with each nudge.

and then his voice, low, close to your ear.

"c'mere," he says. "sit on my lap."

you turn your head, brows knitting. "why?"

"s'comfier," he shrugs, not looking up from his phone screen. "you're hogging the blanket anyway."

you roll your eyes, but obey, crawling into his lap without thinking much of it — you'd sat in his lap a million times before. he always held you a little too tight against the skin of your hips, hands always a little too low on your waist but... that was just rafe. it never meant anything.

the couch dips under both of your weight, his thighs spreading wider to make room for you. he barely shifts his phone out of the way, one hand settling instantly at your hip like it belonged there.

"better," rafe mutters, half to himself.

it should have been normal. you'd sat like this a hundred different time before. but the longer you stayed, back pressed against the soft rise and fall of his broad chest, warm breath against the nape of your neck, the more aware you became of how his hands dragged lower. how the blanket hid the way his fingers dug into the soft of your hips.

"lemme in," rafe murmurs, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. his voice is quiet, almost careless, like this was the most normal question he could have asked you — but the weight of his palm on your hip tells another story. "just a little bit."

your stomach twists. you know you should push him off, brush it off like the other, many dirty jokes he'd muttered before, roll your eyes and try your best to focus on the flatscreen in front of you. that's what you should do. but his hand strokes lazily over your side, coaxing, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to give in.

"rafe..."

"we're not even doin' anything," he cuts in smoothly, tone dripping with false innocence. "i just wanna feel you. that's all." he tilts his head, catching your eyes with that slow, smug smirk — the one that always seems to make your resolve crack. "c'mon. lift your hips for me, sweet girl."

you swallow hard, pulse hammering against your skin, but when his grip tightens and he repeats, softer this time — "up." — your body obeys before your mind catches up.

he moves quickly, acting before you could change your mind. he pushes his sweats down just enough, the sound of fabric dragging making the air around you feel heavy. then, he's free — thick, hot, heavy against your thigh. your breath stutters at the contact, and his hand immediately settles over your hip, steadying you.

"see?" he hums, like he's proving a point. "not a big deal."

but then he's nudging against your entrance, guiding you down slow — unbearably slow — until he's stretching you open, inch by thick inch. your body clenches instinctively around him, thighs trembling, nails biting into his thighs. he groans low in his chest, head falling back against the couch for a beat before he exhales sharply through his nose.

"fuck," he mutters, jaw tight, eyes screwed shut like he's savoring every second. "that's it... sit right there."

your breath catches on a shaky gasp as he bottoms out, the fullness almost dizzying. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him, chest pressed against your back, locking you there like you're just another part of him now, fused together in the intensity of the moment.

"rafe—"

"not anything," he interrupts instantly, voice calm, smooth. his lips brush against your temple, a soft mockery of comfort. "we're not fuckin', see? you're just keepin' me warm."

the words make your cheeks burn. he shifts just slightly, the smallest roll of his hips, and you choke on a whimper before you can stop.

"this is weird, rafe..." you mumbled, the guilt laced through your voice.

"feels good though, right?" he murmurs. "nothin' wrong with that."

the movie plays forgotten in the background. all you can feel is the thick weight of him inside of you, the dull throb of your body trying to adjust, the way his thumb rubs lazy circles into your side like you're not both sitting there full of tension. he sighs, all smug satisfaction, like this is exactly how he planned the night to end, starting from the minute you walked in.

"told you it was comfier." rafe whispers again, resting his head against your shoulder.

cherie's taglist <3 — @sexybr9nette, @fawnfate, @bonjourjiminie, @bunniecouture, @kaydennnn, @rafessbaby, @girldisrupted, @vunhun, @mattyskies, @rafestoothbrush, @harrrrystylesslut.

[sluttierkewchi]

Him: im about to cum. Where do you wan-

Me: *lock legs around him*

[kissedclaws]

𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 ◟Rafe Cameron x female!reader

Sypnosis: Rafe rarely talks to you, even though you have been dating for almost a year. But the second you have some time alone in the bedroom, he suddenly becomes so talkactive, almost unrecognizeable.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, p n v, Rafe being his usual self, toxic relationship, not proofread—it's 1 AM here give me a break guys I just wanted to post..

Rafe Cameron had always been social, he had a huge friendgroup, and everyone on Kildare knew him.

He was Rafe Cameron.

But whenever he was with you, he became quiet and reserved, like he didn't care about you at all.

Like you just were another one of the crazy girls who followed him around on the club, their only goal being to get under his pants.

It wasn't like that at all, you loved him, he was just, Rafe.

Your conversations with him were always short, rarely meant anything and had no dept whatsoever.

But the second your clothes left your body, everything changed and he became a whole other person.

Right now was a moment like that, your clothes were scattered across the floor. Rafe had you on your back, your thighs spread around his waist as he pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust.

That's when he talked to you, really talked.

– "Fuck, so tight" he moaned, voice low and rough, hips rolling in a steady rhythm. "Fuck.. i've been thinking about this pussy all day"

Your eyes widened, even if it wasn't the first time it happened.

He always did this.

He never spoke in real life but when he had you like this? Oh the words just kept coming, one after one, each one only filthier than the last.

– "Look at me you slut!" He ordered, one hand gripping you chin so that you couldn't look away from him. "Oh you've missed my cock, I fucking know you have"

– "Yes" you gasped, you didn't really have a choice. He actually interacted with you, now he wasn't particularly being nice but oh he could be a lot worse.

He smirked, leaning down, lips brushing your ear as he drove deeper. – "Fuck, you're taking me so well" he groaned, "say it louder, tell me how good I make you feel"

You moaned out his name and he groaned once again in response to the pretty sounds leaving your mouth.

He picked up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. – "Do you even know how deep I am? You're squeezing me so tight" he kissed you again.

You couldn't help but enjoy the moment, the person you loved most was finally giving you attention. But a part of you ached at the fact that he only ever cared about your body.

Not really about you.

He continued praising you, – "Oh baby, you're so pretty, making such a mess all over me"

One of his hands slid down, fingers finding you clit, circling it as he kept thrusting in desperate motions.

You cried out, your back arching.

He smiled, – "Yeah, right there?" He spoke in a low, rough voice in a tone only Rafe could have.

He kept thrusting, his rhythm not faltering for one second. – "That's it baby, come for me"

Oh he sounded so proud, too proud.

You clenched around him as you came, and he kept fucking you through it, slowing down just enough to let you breathe before picking up his speed again.

– "I love you," he begun, "gonna cum inside you" he continued speaking, hips thrusting at an even faster pace.

I love you.

Oh he hadn't said those words in a long time.

He came with a loud groan, and then he kept speaking. – "You always take me so well, feel so good around me, shit i've missed you"

You smiled at him, you hadn't had a real conversation with him in weeks—and now, that the house was empty and he finally had you in his bed, you mattered to him.

It was sudden, it was fake—and everything he said was so insanely thought through that it almost scared you.

He spoke as if he loved you, as if you were his everything, so that you would want to stay. For him, for yourself.

As if he was the perfect boyfriend he so badly wanted people to think he was.

He was barely a boyfriend, just a fling.

A fling you had been seeing for over a year, a fling you only ever met in the bedroom.

He wasn't the perfect dream boy everyone saw him as.

But atleast he cared.

Even if just a little bit, it was more than he needed to.

Cause you were down bad for him. And you couldn't escape your feelings, no matter how hard you tried.

© kissedclaws — all rights reserved, do not steal or plagiarize my work without permission.

[lacyydollette]

₊  ֹ  ˖ CALLING EX!BF!RAFE TO SAY GOODNIGHT     ᱺㅤㅤ   ୨౿ 

it would be funny. real fucking funny.

you and rafe had been going on and off for months since your breakup. you don’t even remember why you broke up, but you know it was over something stupid—or maybe because you both had anger issues and matched each other’s fucked-up personalities so well it turned into a yelling fit every day.

so you just decided one day that you’d be on and off. currently, you haven’t seen him for a whole month because, again, the asshole is god knows where. he just said he ‘needed to go somewhere.’

one ring—on the second, he’s already answered.

“hi, pretty.” you can hear that annoying smirk on his face.

“hi, sexy.” and you’d be lying if the fucker’s voice didn’t make you flush.

“what’s up? it’s probably late for you.”

“uh huh, just calling to say goodnight.”

that made him pause. you’ve never called him to say goodnight—not even a text ever since your breakup officially broke things off.

“uh—right—okay, fuck, what game are you playing now?” he’s pacing. literally. the way you have him stressed 24/7 should be studied, because you always pull some bullshit on him.

“nothing! i swear, just wanted to say it.” you giggle, waiting for him to answer.

“is this a test?” he mumbles.

“whattttt no, wanna be nice for once, aren’t you gonna say it back though?” you try to bite down your giggles.

after a long pause he says it “goodnight, sweetheart.” and then softer, “for the record, i really fucking miss you. and this place sucks.”

knowing he’s not gonna elaborate on the “place,” you don’t say anything.

“i just recorded that and i’m showing it to everyone,” you tease, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“please do,” he says, voice low, a smile creeping in, “i want everyone to know how gone i am for you.”

you laugh quietly into your pillow, still grinning like an idiot. “gone for me, huh? you sound dramatic.”

“yeah, well,” he says, his voice rough with a tired kind of fondness, “you make me that way.”

you roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “don’t go all soft on me now, country club.”

“shut up,” he groans, but he’s smiling. you can feel it.

there’s a long pause—comfortable, stretched out between your breathing and the static hum of the call.

“so, when are you coming back?” you ask quietly.

“soon,” he says. “as soon as i can.”

“liar.”

“maybe,” he admits, a low chuckle in his throat. “but i’ll make it up to you. promise.”

he doesn’t hang up right away—just listens for a while, the two of you lingering in that soft silence like neither wants to let go first.

“night, pretty,” he says finally.

you smile against your pillow. “goodnight, asshole.”

the call ends, but you’re still smiling when your phone buzzes again—a text from him:

rafe: on a second thought delete that recording. i meant what i said, but i’m not letting random people hear that shit.

you laugh to yourself, typing back:

you: too late. it’s already on my public story <3

yeah ward was gonna have to ask someone else to do his dirty work for him cuz he was going home tonight.

back to his girl.

[angelicstarkey]

sucking bsf!rafe off while he's on the phone

content warning: oral sex 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.1k

It wasn’t like you’d meant to distract Rafe while he was on the phone; you knew better than that. But when you heard who he was talking to, you couldn’t help but feel a sharp thread of envy bubble in your stomach, and before you knew it, you slid your hands beneath the waistband of his jeans, easing the zipper down and tugging the fabric just enough to free him. 

“Yeah, I’ll- fuck - sorry, stubbed my toe. I’ll see if I can take the boat out for jus’ the two of us.” Rafe breathed out, trying not to moan as you licked a stripe up from the base of his cock to his tip, feeling the ridges of his veins on the flat of your tongue. A pattern you’d almost memorized on every part of your body that could have ever touched it, your mouth, your hands, the plush walls of your insides. The phone’s speaker was tilted away as Rafe whispered your name in a scolding tone, “Cut that shit out.” 

The way his face looked at you with both desperation and domination only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more, like they fed off of the realization that even with some other girl demanding his attention, it was still you he reacted to first, like it was his instinct, his loyalty to you written into his bones.

You softly smiled up at him, eyes wide and doe-eyed, as you kitten-licked the precum that leaked from his tip, his cock glistening red and hardened as it twitched from the sensation. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently and hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, revelling in the way his hand immediately flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to ground himself.

“Y-yeah, Stacey, that sounds perfect,” Rafe choked out, his voice was tight and strained as he fought to keep his composure. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight as you bobbed your head, taking him further into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You relaxed your jaw and hollowed your mouth, allowing Rafe to buck his hips and fuck your mouth slowly, the wet heat of your tongue dragging against the sensitive underside of his shaft. 

The heat in your core started to pulse, your thighs suddenly slick, and the need for Rafe to solely focus on you became more urgent as you ground yourself against your hand to try and relieve some tension. Was it so wrong that he only had eyes for you, or that the boat was your thing only? As Rafe continued to thrust into your mouth, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you, taking him whole and almost completely at his mercy, solely because you were jealous of who he’d been talking to. It wasn’t like he was blind to it; he knew it’d spark the possessive side in you, the side he wished you’d show more often. 

Rafe could do whatever he wanted, have whatever he pleased, and genuinely could not give a flying fuck as to what others thought. However, the one thing he’d always wished for was for you to stop pretending you didn’t care. To stop softening the edges of your jealousy, to stop playing it off when he knew damn well how deeply you felt things. He wanted you to be selfish, wanting him loudly, claiming him without apology.

“Dinner sounds good, what time were you thinking?”

You immediately hummed around him in amusement, the vibrations travelling straight through his cock and making him buck his hips involuntarily. You choked a little louder than you would’ve liked, leading Rafe to glare at you as a silent warning to behave. But his pupils widening and now darkened blue eyes gave away how much he was enjoying this. You doubled down, swirling your tongue around the tip before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him.

“Seven works,” Rafe gritted out, his hand in your hair tugging at your roots as he tried to take control again. “I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up, yeah?” Jus’ you and me, no one else.” He paused, listening to her response. Feeling a surge of possessiveness in you, you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed hard, pulling back with a loud pop which led Rafe to hiss through his teeth into the phone. “Nah I’m just… handling some business right now. But I’m looking forward to Thursday.” 

You smirked up at him, drool gathering at the corner of your mouth as you stroked him with your hand, slick with your spit. You leaned down to lap at his balls, taking one gently into your mouth and sucking, knowing it would wreck him. 

“Ye-yeah fire away, what did you wanna ask?” Rafe managed to get out as he felt you take him in your mouth again, your fist twisting at the base of his cock as you bobbed your head, tasting him in the process. You heard your name being mentioned as you felt him swell in your mouth, the frantic throbbing pressed against your tongue. 

“What does she have to do with this?” Rafe grunted, his hips bucking up involuntarily. His hand shot to the back of your head, not to push you away, but to hold you in place, to anchor himself as you took him to the hilt over and over again. The head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat with every downward plunge, and you just took it, swallowing around him, the constricting muscles milking him for all he was worth. “Listen you got a problem with her, then I-” 

The dam that was built in Rafe for so long finally broke when he looked at the sight of you rubbing your clit while sucking him off with no mercy. He moaned out, thick and heavy, the first spurt of his release hitting the back of your throat. Rafe arched off the couch and buried his face in the crook of his arm, muffling the guttural sounds of his climax as you continued to work him through it, swallowing everything he gave you. His hips jerked with each pulse, a helpless, violent rhythm that spoke of his complete and total surrender to the pleasure you were forcing on him.

Rafe finally came back to himself, his chest heaving. He pulled you off him gently, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound. He looked at you: your swollen lips, the smug yet innocent satisfaction in your eyes, and a dark, possessive fire ignited in his gut.

“Then I’m sorry, but this isn’t gonna work out. My best friend’s not a fucking threat.”

Rafe hung up the phone and tossed it to the side, his full attention snapping on you. “You think you’re fucking funny?” he growled, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.

[isastarset]

Enemy!Rafe headcannons

enemy!Rafeis big, 8 inches when hard in length and 7 innches in thickness, he has 3 prominent veins, a flushed pink tip and heavy balls. he will always give it to you all the way. Hold you as he pins you to the door of the country club bathroom stall, taking his anger out when he saw you being extra kind to one of the kook guys. He takes you mid work, not caring if anyone notices, he wants them to know.

enemy!Rafeloves humiliating you, trip you when you have drinks in your tray, not hard enough to make you fall but enough to spill some of the drink off the glass, earning a critical look from your boss and the guests. Calling you "sloppy" and "distracted". You have gotten 5 talks this past weeks and you're on the verge of being fired. You catch Rafe before he leaves, walking heavily as anger fills your body the closer you get. He notices, he lives for it. You close the gap with a slap straight to his face, making his grin widen more. "You that angry baby? You should understand that I need you fired so I can take care of you."

"Are you fucking crazy?! I need this job! Of course I'm fucking angry."

"Is that so? Let me make it cum out of you."

enemy!Rafe cant get his eyes off you, goes to the country club frequently just to have eyes over you and will always grab you aside during your breaks, always complaining. "Why did you smile at him?" "Do you like him?" "You need attention that bad, slut?". You hiss at him at the moment, always telling him to fuck off, but he owns you, and you love it. Hes even more possessive in bed, always filling your ear with filthy degrading words, always adding to your pleasure. He will grab your hands, lifting your torso and keeping you in place with one hand on your ass. Clap! His palm will smack firmly on your ass, making you wince in that pain that melts into pleasure immediately. He pounds into you hard and fast. "You like when I fuck you rough like this?" another smack. "Answer me, you slut." You barley get a "yes" out, the pace making your entire brain fuzzy. "Is my whore already cockdrunk?" he taunts. "Poor thing, too bad I'm going to keep going as long as I fucking want. This pussy belongs to only me, don't you dare fuck anyone else, ill fucking kill them, got it, bitch? Just nod and keep taking it like the filthy slut you are."

enemy!Rafe loves exploring kinks with you, his other hookups lasting no more then 30 minutes, with you, the longest has been 4 hours. He takes time out of his day to search new positions, toys for you, outfits, materials, everything. He doesn't overstep, he might be aggressive in bed but he knows to not limit you only to your sexual relations, which surprised you. He offers, but a no is a no. His favorites are you being dressed up, in skimpy little outfits that barley cover anything, skirt so short they don't even lap over the highest point of the curve of your ass, he makes you put on a show, stripping in front of him, making you grind against him, and he doesn't dare to touch himself until you do it for him. He loves public sex, fucking you in the woods, his house even when he's not alone, on his balcony where any worker or Rose and Ward can see, the country club bathrooms and storage rooms and his favorite, the beach, at night during bonfires, when you both are drunk, at shore, moving your hips in a slow and loving pace as he holds you above him, the sight of you underneath the stars makes his breath hitch.

enemy!Rafe leaves every time he starts showing his feelings, he has major trust issues, both of his parents were pouges and when his mom left, beside the trust issues he developed a big hatred to all pouges to cope. He spoke about his mom once after sex and as soon as your face softened at the sight of his tears, he immediately got up and left. You ignored him after, and that made him even more mad, you got into a huge fight and of course fixed it with sex. That's another Rafe Cameron specialty, avoiding important talks and instead putting a band aid on it, thinking he can fix it, you stood up to him once about it, and his reply was "nothing is ever this serious, just be normal." You hate how you forgive him so easily, how you melt when he treats you good, like a girlfriend. You're used to it now, you know he wants to be more then this, but he will never admit it, and you are okay with that, you learned to let go, be less dependent on his attention, not caring to text first, reply to calls even when your busy, nor to go out of your way to clear your schedule to see him, and he hates it.

@astroangel45 @rafesdaydream @bullet2004 @obsourie

[rafey-baby]

rafe being a good brother...

c/w: incest, thumb sucking, pretty fluffy

wc: 470

more of them on my masterlist!

i was feeling nostalgic & went through my old drafts from over a year ago & apparently forgot to post this so here u go!

if this is not ur cup of tea, scroll & read something else xx

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“M’really tired.” her voice is small and the gloomy look in her eye tells him all he needs to know. He doesn’t ask questions like ‘what happened?’ or ‘what’s wrong?’ because he knows her—knows that whenever she’s feeling like this she just wants someone to be gentle with her, someone to hold her, which is exactly what he does. 

His arms are tight around her waist (despite her nonexistent efforts of drawing away in the first place) when he walks backwards until the edge of her bed touches the backs of his knees. The mattress creaks under his weight as he tugs at her arm, forcing her weak form to tumble on top of him. And he’s so warm she just wants to crawl inside his clothes and stay there forever, wishing the lullaby of his heartbeat could put her to sleep so eternal she’d never have to wake up from it. 

And there’s no need for words, no need to open their mouths to talk about something neither of them want to when his hand finds the back of her head—softly tugging at her roots to make her look up at him. And for a moment, he simply stares into her blurry eyes with something akin to concern, which never fails to confuse her because it’s rare Rafe feels that way towards anyone but himself. 

However, she doesn’t question it too much when his thumbs swipe over the delicate skin under her eyes, catching the salty beads before stroking the now wet pads over her cheeks. And she can’t help but lean into his touch, a faint hum leaving her throat when his fingers trail lower; thumbing over her lips absentmindedly before grazing over the bottom one. 

“Ray…” her complaint is muted when he lets the pad of his thumb push past the seam of her mouth and rest on her tongue. It feels wet and warm and it makes him smile.

“What?” he questions with a low drawl, eyes fixed on the view of his digit disappearing past her lips. And when she doesn’t showcase any further resistance, he begins to rub lazy circles over the flat of her tongue, dragging another whine from the back of her throat because she’s not a dumb baby and she does not need to suck on her brother’s thumb like a fucking pacifier in order to feel better.  

But for whatever reason, she seems to find some semblance of comfort in it; feels the awful week she’s had already beginning to fade from her consciousness, the edges blurring and sinking into oblivion with every passing moment she lets him invade her mouth. And maybe that’s the reason she doesn’t pull away—merely slobbers over the digit and lets her heavy lids fall shut. After all, he’s so warm and she’s so exhausted.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister...(part two)

c/w: incest, some dubcon touching & a kiss from rafe, both of them are more or less drunk, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.3k

more of them on my masterlist

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s well past 3 am when they stumble through the front door— wobbly on their feet and drunkenly giggling about some stupid joke Rafe had muttered while fumbling with the keys. Yet another party her big brother had dragged her into, and if it weren’t for his hands on her hips guiding her upstairs right now, she’d wake up the entire house tumbling down the stairs when she’d inevitably loose her footing.  

“Rafe, m’never going out with you again. Told you I wanted to leave like two hours ago,” she complains the moment they make it to her bedroom; her feet aching and head spinning.   

“‘N she’s complainin’ again. I mean, my apologies for wantin’ to—to show m’little sister a good time,” he huffs, peeling off the shirt that’s beginning to stick to his skin. “Don’t even try t’act like you didn’t have fun.”  

“Well, yeaah, but now m’sooo tired and gross and I need to shower and…” she yawns around the rest of the words; hand on his bicep for balance while she kicks off her shoes. 

“Don’t— don’t need to worry ‘bout that, told you I’d help you out, yeah?” he slurs, already beginning to tug down the zipper of her dress.  

“Nooo…can’t shower yet. Need to take m’makeup off first,” she blabbers, brows pulling together as if he’s just committed some heinous crime, making him roll his eyes before he’s searching through her vanity for makeup remover.  

And despite her drowsy resistance about wanting to shower alone, Rafe manages to drag her into the bathroom (after wiping her face clean) anyway — the thermal water soaking through her fatigued limbs feeling entirely too good for her to push him away when he corners her behind the shower curtain, its printed seashells beginning to twirl against the cream-colored material when she stares at them for too long. 

And she’s almost starting to believe he’s truly doing all of this for altruistic purposes; thoroughly washing her hair for her and making sure to coat the strands with a generous amount of conditioner afterwards.

But when his soapy palms mindlessly glide along the wet skin on her tummy— inching closer and closer towards her tits, she realizes that she was wrong. However, she’s far too out of it to care, and upon noticing the fact, he’s letting his eager paws grope at the squishy flesh; covering them in the foamy shower gel in the process.  

Only when his thumb is smoothing over a sensitive nipple, does she blink away the haziness blurring the lines of what a brother should and shouldn’t do to his sister. And at first, her dozy complaint doesn’t even reach his ears because he’s entirely too focused on the way her tits fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, wondering how it would feel to—  

“Rafe…can you not do that?” she suddenly takes a tentative step back.  

“Hm? Jus’ makin’ sure you feel all nice ‘n clean,” he drawls out, seemingly confused before he’s tugging her closer with a hold on her waist. “Can you wash my hair next?” he pleads; an abrupt attempt to distract her intoxicated brain. 

“I can barely stand and you want me to wash your hair? Can’t even reach your head when you’re a fucking giant.”  

But when he leans down for her, she reluctantly begins to lather the shampoo into his roots— gaining a delighted grunt from the back of his throat when her fingers absentmindedly dig into his scalp. However, with the new position, he’s now eye-level with her tits; soap bubbles and water droplets trickling down the smooth skin, and with his thoughts muddled, he’s unable to resist the allure for very long before he’s gravitating towards them.  

“Rafe, stoop,” she stumbles backwards when she feels the flat of his tongue laving over the valley of her breasts.

“M’sorry.” But he doesn’t seem all that sorry, not when he looks up at her under his lashes, offering her an inebriated grin— something nauseating coiling in her belly in response.  

- - - - - - - - - -

When they finally make it out of the shower, he insists on patting her dry, the foggy mirror saving her the absolute mortification of having to watch her brother’s eyes skim across the expanse of her bare skin during the unnecessarily long process.  

“Let me take care of m’favorite sister, yeah?” he croons when he’s tugging down the hem of her sleep shirt afterwards — a shirt that just so happens to be stolen from him, the worn fabric apparently softer than anything of her own.  

She’s unsure as to why he’s suddenly being so nice, but she’s not exactly complaining when his uncharacteristically gentle fingertips daub her face with her night cream when they sit down on her bed— making sure to rub the moisturizer into her forehead as well. And she thinks he almost looks cute like this; brows furrowed in concentration, flicking her nose with a sleepy smile when he’s finished.   

“That smells so fuckin’ good,” he groans after applying a layer of chapstick to her lips; his heady gaze fixed on the action of her rubbing them together, something she’s too dozy to notice.

“I know, right? I looove anything vanilla-scented,” she gushes over the product while placing the rest of the skincare on her nightstand.  

“Can I— uh, try it?” his question sounds innocent enough, but she should know better.  

“Of course,” the naive girl fully expects him to uncap the lip balm once more but instead, he’s suddenly grabbing her jaw into his massive hands and pressing his mouth against hers— swallowing her surprised squeak before she’s quickly pulling away.   

“Rafe, you promised you weren’t gonna do that anymore,” she whines, but the way her button-eyes blink up at him — the betrayal so tangible — lures him in to do it again; smearing their mouths together with a satisfied hum before she’s shoving at his shoulder.  

“Ray, m’serious, it was one time,” she lets out an annoyed huff.  

“Calm down, m’lips were jus’ dry, alright?”  

“You could’ve just— nevermind, m’too tired for this right now,” her attempts at putting some much needed space between them prove to be futile when he just follows her under the covers— acting as if he doesn’t hear her muttering how he should sleep in his own bed for a change.  

“Listen, m’sorry, okay? Don’t like when you’re mad at me,” he ignores her protests and nestles his face into her neck, nose soon nudging her throat and eliciting a somnolent giggle from her. 

“Ray, stop. You’re being annoying,” she tries to swat his hands away when his fingers suddenly begin to poke and prod at her sides because he knows how ticklish she is.  

“Yeah? Tell me you forgive me then.” 

Involuntary laughter bubbles from her chest when she shakes her head and squirms in his arms— desperately trying to wriggle away, but he’s much stronger and she’s no match. And when she grows even louder, he’s forced to slap his palm over her mouth to muffle the noise.

“Shut up, Sarah’s gonna wake up ‘n tell dad we were out late again,” he hisses, suddenly remembering how his other sister is sleeping on the other side of the wall, nonetheless continuing his attack when she attempts to escape once more.

“Stop tickling me then,” she manages out between fits of laughter, uncomfortably writhing in his hold because she hates when he does this. However, she quickly realizes he’s not planning on stopping anytime soon, and the feeling is quickly turning into something unbearable, more or less forcing her to finally let out a sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I forgive you— whatever, jus’ let me sleep.” 

His breathy chuckle fans the expanse of her neck before he finally relents, but when she tries to shift away from him, he merely tucks her closer against his naked chest; large palm slipping under the hem of her shirt to splay over the expanse of her stomach to keep her right where she is.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs into her hair, tone suddenly desperate, needy. It makes her swallow around the knotted coil in her throat before she reluctantly gives up altogether— entirely too exhausted to put up a fight when sleep is already dragging her into its dreamy embrace and she feels so warm like this.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister…  

c/w: incest, dubcon, oral (m receiving), rafe being a perv about his (adopted) sister & her being inexperienced, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.7k

more of them on my masterlist

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx   

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her big brother has always been rather overbearing, which is something she’s tried to shrug off as him merely being protective, but as far as her understanding of siblings goes— they aren’t supposed to act the way Rafe does.  

Ever since they were little, Rafe has been weird about everyone in their strange family, but sometimes it makes her feel gross when he barges into her room while she’s changing— not even bothering to cover his eyes as he sits down on her mattress and starts ranting about something completely irrelevant.

It makes her feel disgusting when she notices the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth as his gaze narrows down onto whatever bare sliver of skin she’s hurriedly trying to hide from his borderline hungry eyes.   

And she doesn’t particularly enjoy when he gets wasted or high off of whatever he’s snorted at some stupid party and insists that he just has to sleep next to her because he’s not feeling good. And despite her drowsy complaints, he’s always snuggling too close for comfort with his hands all over her; pulling her flush against him and letting the cushion of his lips graze the skin of her neck.

He keeps telling her that it’s nothing out of the ordinary when he gives her details about the girls he’s slept with and what his favorite positions are, even if she’s told him multiple times that she doesn’t want to know. And whenever they’re home alone, he even goes as far as bringing girls to his room— making sure their loud moans echo right into her bedroom when he knows she’s trying to study.   

And whenever he’s tagging along during her little shopping trips (he doesn’t let her go alone because what if something happens?), he always demands on joining her in the fitting rooms— even squeezing himself into the crammed space when she’s trying on lingerie, claiming that she absolutely needs his opinion.   

“Rafe, that’s weird,” she tries to get him to wait outside but of course he merely rolls his eyes.  

“S’not weird, know how indecisive you can be, jus’ wanna help,” he says, seemingly genuine while he’s already fiddling with the clip of her bra.   

And she feels her cheeks burning when the cashier mentions how sweet it is that her boyfriend is paying for her clothes— to which Rafe merely chuckles while she can’t find the words to correct the poor woman because she’d probably faint if she learned the truth about their relationship.

More often than not, he tends to be borderline territorial. One time, she’s simply talking to a guy at some party, when all of a sudden, she feels an all too familiar presence behind her.

“Who’s this, hm?” he slurs, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulder.   

“Oh, it’s…um, no one,” she peeps out because she knows how he is. However, her attempts at calming him down prove to be fruitless because he’s already approaching the guy with a scoff.   

“You, uh, you do know that this is m’sister, right? Mine. So, why don’t you, uh, go ‘n try to impress some other bitch, yeah?” he offers him a sickly-sweet smile, voice harsh before telling her they’re leaving— strong hands on her waist already dragging her towards his truck.

“I was having fun,” she complains when he’s putting the seatbelt on her— his breath smelling of beer when he drawls out a reply. “You can have all the fun you want with me when we get home, yeah?”   

“But I wanted to spend time with my friends,” she pouts.   

“That’s just too bad then, isn’t it?” he murmurs while starting the engine— resting a warm palm on her thigh soon after, ignoring her efforts of shrugging it off.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

When he learns that she hasn’t had her first kiss yet (because why would anyone even think about touching her when they know Rafe is a complete psycho), he mocks her to the point of her eyes growing glossy as she tries to blink away the soggy droplets.

“S’okay, you wanna get it over with, hm? I’ll help you,” he so kindly offers with faux concern glimmering in the moonstones of his eyes.   

“Rafe, that’s gross,” she frowns, to which he merely furrows his brows before scoffing— as if she’s the one being weird.   

“So, uh, so you tellin’ me you want some…some stranger at a party who only wants to get in your pants to do it instead?” he narrows his eyes as if that’s the only alternative.  

“N— no,” her answer is hesitant.  

“Listen, m’just…m’just, tryna be a good brother ‘n help my little sister out, but if you don’t want m’help then don’t come cryin’ to me when you embarrass yourself cause you don’t even know how to kiss,” he lifts his hands up in surrender before shrugging, suggesting that he’d merely be doing her a favor.   

And before her brain has the time to process what’s happening, he’s already dragging her into his lap. And it feels wrong when their mouths are suddenly slotting together— when he’s letting out a shallow groan and slipping his tongue past her teeth without so much as a warning.

“Rafe! You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that,” she squeaks out, pulling away with her face all crumpled up, feeling disconcerted.   

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up everyone, thought you wanted to learn?” he mutters out before he’s smearing his mouth on hers once more— this time with a tight grip on her jaw that forces her to stay put as the the kiss turns into something sloppy; wet.

And afterwards, he makes her promise that she won’t tell anyone because ‘you don’t want dad to get mad at you, do you?’ and even if she feels guilt eat away at her, she keeps it to herself because the last thing she wants is to upset anyone. 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

“Rafe guess what? I have a date tomorrow,” she gives him a giddy smile while stepping into his room a few weeks later.  

“With who?” he eyes her while slouching on his bed, seemingly in the midst of texting someone.

“This guy I met on the beach today,” she sits down on the edge of the mattress when he places his phone on his nightstand.

“Yeah? What’s his name?” he asks, shifting closer.  

“Um, Ethan.” 

“Last name?”  

“I— I don’t know, didn’t ask…why does it matter? Was just wondering if you could drive me there?” she says, surprised by his sudden interest. 

“Where?” his tone sounds almost exasperated now, as if she’s done something bad.

“Um, we’re just gonna hang out at his house,” she chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous.

“You havin’ a date at his house? You finally gonna lose that virginity, huh?” he asks as patronizing laughter bubbles from his chest.

“What? No! S’not like that,” she mumbles, her skin already boiling. 

“No? You do know when guys say they wanna hang out, it means they wanna fuck, right? You’re not that stupid, are you?” his gaze is borderline condescending when he raises his brows.

“Well, he’s not like that, he seems nice,” she tries to defend herself, feeling small all of a sudden.

“Sweetheart, every guy’s like that, especially the ones that seem nice, you’re so fuckin’ naive,” he scoffs while running a hand through his hair.

“You know what? Forget about it, I’ll just walk there,” she huffs out, standing up to leave, however, she doesn’t get far before he’s grabbing at her arm.

“Listen, m’just tryna look out for you, okay? Don’t feel like dealin’ with your shit ‘bout how he broke your heart. I mean, if you’re not gonna let him hit, he’s gonna be expectin’ somethin’ else, you know that, right?”

She swallows.

“I— are you sure? But…but I don’t even know how to—” 

“Poor baby, what would you do without your big brother, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you, yeah?” he coos before pinky promising he’ll be gentle.

And that’s how she ends up on her knees in front of him. 

“Ray, this doesn’t feel…right,” she mumbles out, eyes focused on the ruddy tip he’s thumbing over while he stares at her.

“Shh, can be our little secret, yeah? Jus’ wanna make sure my little sister doesn’t embarrass herself,” he lets out a grunt when she blinks up at him with uncertain eyes.

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” he instructs while moving closer to her tentative form, biting his lip when she gingerly does what he tells her to. Then, he’s thudding the drippy head on the flat of her tongue— one, two, three times, which makes her let out a noise; something that only seems to spur him on.

He tastes salty and it makes it all the more real, all the more wrong because she doesn’t necessarily mind the taste, which makes her feel entirely too gross about the situation altogether— the words ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore’ turning into a tangled muddle when he’s already pushing past her lips, making her gag around the sudden intrusion.

“Shit, tha’s good, jus’ take it, yeah?” he rumbles out; a big hand holding the back of her head as he stuffs himself deeper down her throat— cock twitching in response to her whines and attempts at drawing away for air.

It overwhelms her to no end when he’s so rough, abrasive, but despite his broken promise, she’s unable to prevent her thighs from pressing together when throaty moans keep escaping him; his respiration turning labored by each lazy rut of his hips while her head begins to spin.

Only when his sticky cum gushes onto her tongue— the white substance dribbling past the seam of her lips and covering her chin in the process, does he grant her a moment to catch her breath.

“Guys like it when you swallow,” his voice is like gravel when he pushes at her jaw, heady gaze glued to the way her throat bobs when she does just that, the aftertaste of what they’ve done making her feel stained; dirty.

“You know, s’cute you thought I’d let some, some shithead fuck my sister,” he sounds almost humored as he pats at the flushed skin of her cheek— making her eyes turn watery when he swipes a thumb under her wobbly bottom lip to clean up the remaining mess.

She feels something in her guts churn when he tucks it back into her mouth with a sick smile.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister (part three aka some good old sibling bonding)

c/w: incest, dubcon, alcohol consumption, smut (dry humping & fingering) 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

hi. hello. this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long & i finally finished it ! also haven’t written anything in a while (as u guys know) so this was v fun + pls pls let me know ur thoughts i love reading them !!!

if this is not ur cup of tea, scroll & read something else xx

previous parts on my masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I feel like you’re always with Rafe these days...should I be worried? I mean, what do you guys even do?” 

Sarah’s voice makes Y/N step out of her closet, holding a pair of shorts to pull over her bikini bottoms.

“What do you mean? We just…you know, hang out,” she swallows, nervous all of a sudden.

“Hang out? With Rafe? He’s so weird, I’ve never understood why you even bother with him, especially when you could be spending time with your favorite sister instead,” the blonde girl teases with a playful raise of her brows.

“Oh, you mean Wheezie?”

Sarah’s face falls. “Ugh, you’re so annoying, never mind.”

“I mean, you’re the one who’s always running around with John B and his friends, I barely see you around the house anymore.” Y/N tries to reason while trying to locate her towel in the messy room. 

“Okay fine, you’re not wrong, but seriously, what’re you doing today? We should do something together?” 

“Well, uh, we were actually thinking about going to the beach with Rafe.” 

“Of course you were,” Sarah gives her another look. It makes her hesitate before she grabs the pale yellow beach towel and stuffs it in her bag, looking up at her sister with a roll of her eyes. An attempt to play it off. 

“Are his friends coming?” Sarah continues, face scrunching up in disgust. She’s never liked those snobby assholes, and she’s fairly certain that the only reason Y/N tolerates them is because of Rafe. In fact, Y/N tolerates a lot of things because of their brother. For some reason, the man’s got her wrapped around his finger, and Sarah’s determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“No, s’gonna be just the two of us,” Y/N answers while gathering her hair up and away from her face.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. What do the two of you even do on a beach?” Sarah’s tone is almost accusatory, as if the idea of anyone wanting to spend time alone with Rafe seems completely unfathomable. 

“Well, um, what do you do with John B on a beach?”

“John B’s my boyfriend?” Sarah’s brows crease. 

“Right, sorry, bad example, uh…I just meant that—we just, you know…swim ‘n eat ice cream and stuff,” her cheeks burn, trying her best to tiptoe around the subject because she already feels guilty enough even looking at her brother the wrong way around others. She doesn’t need Sarah of all people interrogating her about it. 

“Rafe doesn’t even like those things,” she argues nonetheless, unconvinced. 

“Yes, he does.” 

“I’ve literally never seen him eat ice cream before.” 

“Cause you never hang out with him,” she tries to reason, feeling oddly defensive all of a sudden. God forbid she wants to spend the entire Saturday afternoon with her brother; soaking up the sun with warm sand under her feet and a cold can cooling her fingertips. Her defensiveness has certainly nothing to do with the dirty feeling in the bottom of her belly whenever she does anything with Rafe, even if most days what they do is completely innocent—at least on her end. 

And all these questions about Rafe are forcing her brain to push uncomfortable memories to the surface, memories she’s stuffed into a box with a lock—memories of the times he’s crossed the line of what siblings should and shouldn’t do together. Memories of his taste in her mouth. 

“Whatever, m’bored, do you guys mind if I join?”

And what is she supposed to say?

No, she’d rather spend time with their brother alone because with other people around she feels borderline sick with the regret that coats every single detail she’s mulled over in her head more times than she can count? Because for some reason, she’s still drawn to him, still wants to spend time with him as if he’s not a terrible, selfish person who’s somehow managed to taint her with this grimy, soiled secret that she’s now as much a part of as him? 

Yeah, that wouldn’t go too well, now would it?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Did we seriously have to bring her?” Rafe complains after five minutes of silence, seemingly incapable of holding in his dissatisfaction for any longer than that. 

“You know I can hear you, right?” Sarah scoffs from the backseat of his truck. 

“Yeah, I do,” a self-satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth when he stops at a red light. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to spend time with Y/N, not you,” she rolls her eyes, clearly regretting this already. 

“Hey, s’not my fault she likes me more,” he argues, eyes flitting over to the rearview mirror to lock eyes with the blonde. 

“No she doesn’t.” 

“No? Then why does she—“

“I like both of you equally, okay?” Y/N chimes in from the passenger seat, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. She briefly wonders why she thought it’d be a good idea to have the both of them stuck in a confined space together. 

Then, Rafe’s leaning over to whisper something in her ear, so quiet Sarah can’t quite catch it. It makes her tilt her head in curiosity nonetheless, especially when Y/N tells him to shut up before playfully pushing him away, seemingly embarrassed. However, neither of them seem to be able to contain their airy giggles afterwards, which confuses her to no end because she’s never seen Rafe laugh like that.  

“What’s so funny?” Sarah questions while attempting to analyze their interaction with furrowed brows. 

“Nothing.” Rafe clears his throat, quickly dismissing her while Y/N pretends she didn’t hear her while rifling through her beach bag. 

“Well, it was clearly something if—”

“Oh shit, I forgot my sunglasses,” Y/N’s voice interrupts her. 

“S’fine, take mine,” Rafe’s gaze flits over her face before taking off the Ray-Bans perched on his nose, making Sarah huff because at this point, she thinks they’re trying to make her feel like a third wheel on purpose. 

Y/N takes them with a grateful smile and a soft thanks, and he’s about to rest his palm on the expanse of her thigh before he remembers Sarah in the backseat, opting to grip the steering wheel with both hands instead. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Despite the tension coated in annoyance, the three of them manage to spend a few hours soaking up the balmy summer day and the lukewarm water without a single fight. The sun bathes them in its golden warmth and their ocean-soaked limbs are sprawled out on their beach towels without a care in the world–until Rafe’s friends show up. And not much later, Sarah’s friends. 

Then it’s all loud laughter and excited screams. Splashes of bodies hitting the water and empty beer bottles littering the sand. Their little bubble of peace thoroughly destroyed. 

The music’s too loud and the alcohol fizzing in Y/N’s veins makes her trip over her own feet as she flounders around with her thoughts messy. Maybe partaking in a drunken never have I ever wasn’t her brightest idea. And apparently somewhere along the way she’s lost sight of both of her siblings.

“Don’t be such a bitch.” 

She recognizes the voice a few feet away. Rafe. And as she stumbles closer to him, she finds him standing in front of Sarah. Her brows furrow.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” she nearly trips and falls face first into the sand, if not for Rafe’s hold on her waist. He smells of sunscreen. The one he only agreed to wear once she’d promised to put it on him. 

“She started it,” he scoffs, eyes bloodshot and wide while he glares at Sarah.

“Started what?” Y/N turns to face her sister, who seems equally irritated. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Sarah huffs. 

“Okay,” she’s far too wasted to do anything more, so she drops it, opting to pull Sarah into her arms instead, squeezing her tightly.

“I missed you so much,” she mumbles into the soft strands of her hair. 

“It’s been like ten minutes,” she laughs, hugging her closer nonetheless. 

“Ten minutes too long,” she argues, unwilling to let go. 

“Okay, I love you too, but you’re really drunk and I think we should go home,” Sarah runs her fingers through her hair and the action is so comforting she’d agree to anything that came out of her mouth. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“But there’s no space for me to sit,” a faint pout dusts over her lips as she looks around the crammed space of Topper’s car and then to her brother, comfortably sprawled out on the backseat. They would’ve taken Rafe’s truck but he’d somehow managed to lose his keys at the party, and he’s far too wasted to focus on the road anyway. 

“S’fine, you can sit right here,” he says, big hands pawing at her hips, tugging her down onto his lap without so much as a warning. 

“Ray,” she squeaks out when the warm palm of his hand slips under her shirt next—splaying over the expanse of her stomach as if they’re the only people here. 

“What?” he mumbles against the skin of her neck. “Scared they’re gonna find out about the shit you let me do to you?” 

“Rafe, you’re drunk.” 

“And you’re soft,” he groans, wet mouth grazing her collarbone with every word. 

She attempts to stand on her feet once more but the car is already moving under them, keeping her glued to her spot while Rafe adjusts his position. And then she feels it. The hard ridge in his pants. 

She lets out a shaky breath. 

“Rafe, m’serious…stop,” she whispers the last word, grabbing for his wrist when his mindless fingertips begin toying with the damp fabric of her bikini top. It makes her tense, quickly looking around the crowded space of the car. However, by some miracle everyone else seems to be either too wasted or too into their loud conversations to pay any mind to what Rafe is doing. 

“It was supposed to be just you ‘n me today,” his voice is muffled against the skin of her neck. 

“Huh?” 

“Was looking forward to it and you jus’ had to bring Sarah and ruin it,” his tone is accusatory, frustrated. He sounds almost upset. 

Her inhale is wobbly when she feels the flat of his tongue on the side of her neck, leaving a wet trail that he follows with his lips.  

“M’sorry,” her soft whisper is breathy, and she doesn’t even realize she’s tilted her head towards him before her hazy gaze zeroes in on his eyes when he licks her neck again. And it feels so good she thinks she might melt. No. It feels wrong. 

“You taste like salt water,” the corners of his mouth tug up and in her drunken state, brain all fuzzy and gooey, she can’t help but smile back; her hesitation evaporating like cotton candy into water. 

“Yeah?” 

He hums against her shoulder, the low noise getting swallowed up by the chatter around them. 

Momentarily, she wonders where Sarah disappeared to, but then she sees her on the passenger seat, making out with John B. She’s moaning against his mouth with her eyes closed, hands in his hair and chest pressed up against him. And momentarily, she’s caught in a trance, stuck staring at her sister grinding on her boyfriend; movements clumsy from the alcohol and hair knotted from the water. 

Huh. She wonders what it would feel like to make out with Rafe—wonders what it would feel like to make out with Rafe while Sarah watches. 

Fuck. What’s wrong with her?

Her mind is buzzing, whirring with disgusting thoughts she can’t seem to shake off, and the ache between her thighs only seems to be growing, at this point it’s almost unbearable. She doesn’t even realize she’s been rubbing herself against Rafe—inadvertently mimicking Sarah’s movements—until his fingers are digging into her hips in a warning, halting her movements. 

“Gonna cum in my pants if you keep doin’ that,” he murmurs.

But without the friction there’s only the uncomfortable throbbing and she lets out a whine because she wants it to stop. 

“Shit, you that horny?” 

She nods against his shoulder, somewhere along the way having leaned back and rested her heavy head against him. She’s so out of it she doesn’t seem to notice when he fumbles with the button of her shorts; eyes fluttering shut because it’s the only way the harsh pounding in her brain feels better.

It’s why she doesn’t register that his hand is in her bikini bottoms before she feels it—his middle and forefinger rubbing her, the wetness there making them slide against the spot that throbs.

Somewhere in the very back of her mind alarm bells go off, but his big fingers and the pressure that keeps building with every passing second makes it impossible to concentrate on anything else. 

Her hips begin to move up and down against his hand while mindlessly chasing the release she can already feel building after all the time she’s already spent humping him through their clothes. 

“You know how easy it’d be to stuff you full of my dick right now?” Rafe grunts, her movements making her butt rub against him. 

And that’s all it takes. Her entire body tenses as he tugs, tugs, tugs until she snaps, limbs weightless as she trembles against his chest, skin vibrating and everything disappearing around her. For a moment, there’s nothing but overwhelming pleasure, nothing but overpowering electricity. 

And then she hears a gravelly moan behind her and clumsy hands drag her closer, pulling her down firmer against his dick before he stills, shaking underneath her weight and whimpering against her shoulder, biting down on the skin there without even realizing he’s doing it.  

And then suddenly, her mind clears, all the grime and dirt clogging it flushing out and leaving behind something else. Something that feels an awful lot like guilt. Shame. Embarrassment.

The fuzzy haze she was lost in mere moments ago vanishes into thin air and just like that, she can think clearly again.

Oh no.