Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
d e v o n
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@blondecinnamonn
─⟢ 𝓘’𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓉 𝒶 𝓀 𝑒 𝓜𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓦𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂 𝑒 ❞
𝓵𝓸𝓵𝓪 — she/her, sixteen,
brazilian, bisexual, isfp, pisces,
writer & bot maker, shifter,
mercedes supporter, suki
waterhouse one and only fan,
drew starkey's wife.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 — masterlist botlist dni&req rules c.ai pinterest
side blog: @blondecinnamind
GUYS HELP I CANT FUCKING EDIT THIS BOT OF MINE AND CANT CREATE ANOTHER ONE LIKE THIS 😭😭😭 does anyone know to fix it??
THIS ERROR MESSAGE KEEPS APPEARING 💔
SOLDIER BOY BOT
vip treatment — where user is a stripper and ben gets a sneak peek at her outfit before her next performance.
enjoy !
Hi i just wanna say i love your bots so much <33
omgg thank you so much 💕 if you have any requests, feel free to do it!
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⊹ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖
pairing: bf!rafe cameron x brazilian!gf!reader
contents: smau, some words in portuguese (translations are below each image containing the words)
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
yourusername
liked by rafecameron, sarahcameron and others
yourusername metade do meu coração sempre vai ser daqui 🇧🇷❤️ (half of my heart will always belong here)
view all comments
rafecameron you didn’t tag me in the pastel pic you know i love pastel 😠😠
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
pic 1 translation:
hey LOVE
of my life
pic 2 translation:
say no
he’s next to me
he wants me to stay but i don’t want to, say no
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⊹ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖
I had always imagine Rafe with a Latina girlfriend/wife like Sofia Jamora, Gabriel Moura...
yes yes yess and then we have sofia in obx who is mexican, i love her and i looove rafe x latina gf fics
INTRODUCING… BRAZILIAN!GF!READER
paired with bf!rafe cameron
find her moodboard here
BRAZILIAN!GF!READER who has been dating rafe for two years. they met about two weeks after she moved to obx, because yes, as soon as the "brazilian girl" set foot on the island, she became popular and was invited to the kooks' parties where rafe cameron would be.
BRAZILIAN!GF!READER who has a personality that is exactly the latin stereotype: temperamental, passionate, sociable, warm, charming and with a “strong personality”.
BRAZILIAN!GF!READER who's always swearing in portuguese, singing brazilian songs, and teaching rafe some phrases and words.
BRAZILIAN!GF!READER who’s the only person rafe obeys without a second warning(or maybe she does have to repeat herself sometimes). because when she’s mad… rafe knows better than to push it.
BRAZILIAN!GF!READER who loves to party and, especially, dance to funk and samba with the music blasting. she even tries to teach rafe and their friends some moves, but they aren't very good dancers.
☀️ - fluff 🌊 - angst
smau ☀️?
more works coming soon… requests open!
Hi, I just saw your Haley Dunphy post based on that concert, and I was wondering if you could make one in C.AI as well, please, but without the song. Thank you so much :))
HALEY DUNPHY BOT
surprise song — where at a school event you, with your band, perform a song dedicated to your girlfriend Haley.
enjoy !
Heyy, I would like to order a bot from Haley Dunphy (WLW) based on the episode in which she and the family go to Dylan's concert, but instead of him it will be me, her girlfriend, and I'm about to sing a song for her, thank you!
SONGBIRD
pairing: gf!haley dunphy x fem!reader
contents: fluff, established relationship, teen romance, high school setting, wlw
wc: 805
a/n: i love haley i love haley i love haley. also, i thought it’d be cool as an one shot, but the bot is also coming soon!
You’re behind the heavy red curtains of the school stage as the muffled noise of the crowd hums on the other side. It’s Family Day, and you’re about to perform with your band, but your mind isn’t on the audience.
It’s on her. Haley, your girlfriend. The reason you chose the song you chose to perform today, wanting to surprise her.
A nervous flutter rises in your chest at the thought of her sitting out there, completely unaware of what you’ve planned. You’ve been together for a while now, long enough that both your families know, long enough that it should feel normal. But somehow, she still gives you butterflies like it’s the very beginning.
A teacher gestures for you and your band to get into position. “Places, guys. Curtain’s about to go up.”
You swallow, stepping forward. The stage lights bleed faintly through the fabric in front of you, and you take your place behind the microphone, wrapping your fingers around it firmly.
Then the curtains part, and for a split second, the crowd is just a blur of faces. Until you find her.
Haley Dunphy, right in the middle of it all. Your eyes lock and you feel your cheeks brush ever so slightly.
The first notes of Songbird, by Fleetwood Mac, begin to play. You inhale, steadying yourself, and then you start to sing.
For you
There'll be no more crying
For you
The Sun will be shining
And I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright
I know it's right
Haley, sitting in the middle of all those people who don’t know the reason behind this music yet, is watching you like she’s trying to memorize every second.
To you
I will give the world
To you
I'll never be cold
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright
I know it's right
And the songbirds are singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before
And I wish you all the love in the world
But most of all
I wish it from myself
You sing looking directly at Haley, and that makes everyone else fade. To you, there’s only her in that crowd. As if the other people there are extras in a romantic movie and you two are the main couple.
By the time you reach the final verses, it doesn’t even feel like you’re performing anymore. It’s just you confessing your love to her.
And the songbirds keep singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before
Like never before
Like never before
The last note fades into the air, lingering for a moment before the room erupts into applause. You laugh softly, glancing back at your bandmates. They’re all grinning at you, nodding in approval.
You step closer to the microphone again, still catching your breath. “And… this one,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips, “was especially for my girlfriend.”
Your eyes find Haley again. She’s laughing, her expression a mix of surprise and something almost dramatic, glancing briefly at her family beside her. You catch Claire placing a hand on her shoulder, clearly saying something that makes Haley roll her eyes, but she’s too happy to really argue.
“Thank you, everyone,” you add, giving a small wave before stepping back as the curtains close.
Later, you’re weaving through booths and people and the sweet scent of snacks filling the air.
As you spot Haley standing near the cotton candy stand, her back turned to you, you walk up behind her and lean in just enough to murmur softly near her ear. “Hey.”
She turns, immediately recognizing your voice, and her face lights up. “Oh my God! Hi,” she beams, wrapping her arms around your neck before you can even react. You laugh, hugging her back, breathing in the familiar sweet scent of her hair.
When she pulls away, you take a small step back just to look at her. “Did you like the performance?” you tease. “It was for someone named Haley.”
She tilts her head, playing along instantly. “Hmm… I think I’ve heard of her. Your girlfriend, right?” She steps closer, gluing her body to yours.
“I heard she’s really pretty,” Haley adds, her voice dropping just slightly. She grips the strap of her bag with both hands, like she’s trying to keep herself from doing something more in public.
“She is,” you say softly, grinning. “Prettiest girl in the world,” you lean in just enough to press a quick kiss to her lips.
You both pull back immediately after, glancing around… and then breaking into quiet laughter.
“Love you,” Haley whispers, her face still close to yours, her smile softer now.
You don’t hesitate. “Love you too.”
Can you do a day in a life of wife reader and her getting the kids ready and stuff
AN ORDINARY DAY
pairing: rafe cameron x wife!reader
contents: fluff, pregnant!reader, dad!rafe, mom!reader, established relationship(married), child character
wc: 1275
a/n: once again, tumblr thinks this post requires content warning BUT WHY 😭💔
“But mommy, i want to stay with you and the baby,” Missy whines as you slip the baby-pink sneakers onto her tiny feet.
“You already missed preschool yesterday, baby. Your friends must be missing you,” you say gently, lifting her into your arms, enjoying it while you still can before your pregnant belly grows.
“They’re not,” she mumbles, burying her face in the crook of your neck, wrapping her short arms around you tightly.
By the time you come down the stairs with Melissa on your hip and reach the kitchen, Rafe is closing Missy’s hot tea bottle. He comes up to both of you, resting his free hand on your waist as the other hands Missy her bottle. When she wraps her hands around it to take a sip, Rafe points a finger at her. “Behave, little miss,” he warns, though the softness in his eyes ruined any attempt at sounding strict. Then he looks at you. “I’m leaving already. Have a meeting.”
“Okay. We’ll see you later,” you smile, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. Your daughter waves at her dad. “Bye, daddy.”
“Bye, baby girl,” Rafe kissed her cheek, smiling, before grabbing his briefcase and walking out the door in his suit.
Right as you park in front of Missy’s preschool, she finishes her tea and stretches the bottle toward you from her car seat in the back. “Mommy,” she calls you.
You twist in the driver’s seat, taking the bottle from her and placing it on the passenger seat. Then you stepped out of the car, open the back door, unbuckle the straps around her, and help her down to the ground.
Hand in hand, you walk toward the entrance, her backpack dangling from your other arm. When you reach the door, where the same security guard stands like every morning, you crouch down and slip the backpack onto her shoulders. “See you later. I love you.”
Melissa smiles. “Bye, mommy,” she says, but her attention is already drifting as she spots one of her classmates running inside. She hurries after her, little sneakers squeaking against the pavement while you stay there for a second longer, smiling at the sight.
Your baby. Your first baby. Growing up way too fast.
The next stop is the baby store.
It might seem superficial to anyone else, but you had been counting the days until you could start buying things for your new son or daughter. It had been like that when you found out you were pregnant with Missy too, even if she had been a surprise. Buying tiny clothes, hospital bags, stuffed animals, even just walking past cribs and rocking chairs. That makes everything real, and you couldn’t be happier with your reality.
You walk into the store, the same one where you had bought most of Missy’s newborn things, one hand resting on your belly as you head straight for the furniture section.
You must have spent over an hour walking through every aisle of the store, but in the end, you didn’t buy any furniture. You want Rafe there with you for that moment.
Still, you couldn’t leave empty-handed. So you walk out with two bags; one with a pair of plush toys inside (which Missy will definitely play a lot with before the baby is even born), and another with two or three light-colored onesies for the hospital bag, along with the softest blanket you could find, printed with tiny sea animals.
As soon as you get back into the car, placing the bags on the back seat, your phone rings and Rafe’s contact name shows up on your phone screen.
You smile at that and answer. “Hi, love.”
“Hey,” he says, and you can hear papers shuffling, drawers closing. “Just wanted to know if you wanna have lunch together. The noon meeting got cancelled.”
“Of course. I’ll head to The Wreck, then. Meet you there,” you reply, starting the car.
“Alright,” Rafe nods, still moving around in his office. “Is Missy staying until three today? Or can I pick her up now?”
You laugh softly. “She said she wanted to stay only until noon. But you know your daughter, if you show up now, she’ll cry and say she wants to stay until midnight.”
Rafe chuckled under his breath. You could picture the smile on his face perfectly. “Yeah, okay. I’m leaving the office now.
Lunch had been nice. You and Rafe sat side by side at your usual table at the restaurant, he told you about work and you told him about the crib you almost bought.
Afterward, he went back to the office, you picked Missy up from preschool at three, and now the clock on the oven reads 5:02 p.m.
Melissa had just gotten out of the bath, wrapped in her panda towel, the little hood with ears wobbling as she walks around the house instead of going to her bedroom to put on pajamas.
“Missy,” you call from the living room, fingers running through a magazine’s pages. “Pajamas.”
“Nooo,” she sings, dragging the word as she pads behind the couch you’re sitting on, water droplets still clinging to her legs. “I’m a panda!”
“Well, I can see that,” you chuckle. “But pandas also wear pajamas.”
Missy stops moving, clutching the towel to her chest. “They do?”
“The ones named Melissa definitely do,” you say with a firm nod, making Missy pause, considering that.
For one hopeful second, you think you’ve won. Then she bolts for the stairs.
You sigh softly, pushing yourself up from the couch, one hand going to your lower back. “Melissa Cameron,” you warn, already moving after her, even though you know she’s much faster than you.
You check your bedroom first, where Missy is trying — and failing — to hold in her giggles. You can practically hear the smile she’s biting back.
You step further into the room, and that’s when she jumps from behind the door. “Boo!” she yells, laughing immediately.
You gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Oh my God, you scared me!” before she can run again, you scoop her up into your arms. “Got you, little panda!” you tease, attacking her sides with tickles.
Missy collapses into helpless laughter, squirming, trying to escape. “No, mommy! Pandas don’t need pajamas,” she argues between giggles.
“Oh, I think this panda does,” you say, kissing her cheek while she laughs and laughs.
A couple of hours later, with Missy finally in her pajamas, you stand by her bedroom door, leaning lightly against the frame. Rafe sits on the edge of her bed, a book open in his hands, Missy tucked under the blankets beside him. Her curls fall across the pillow while he gently brushes them away from her face as he reads.
“And then,” he says, turning the last page, “everyone closed their eyes and fell asleep, already waiting for the next adventure,” he glances down, seeing Missy deep in sleep.
Rafe looks up and finds you watching from the doorway. He smiles and carefully closes the book, moving slowly to stand up and not wake your daughter up.
When he reaches you, he presses a soft kiss to your lips as the two of you step out into the hallway, pulling the door almost all the way closed behind you. “Finally our little panda settled down,” he murmurs with a quiet laugh, remembering what you told him about Missy running around the house this afternoon.
You smile too, leaning into him. “I hope this one,” you say, pointing to your belly, “isn’t as energetic as their big sister.”
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⊹ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖
𝓛𝑶𝑳𝑨’𝑺 𝓓𝑵𝑰 & 𝓡𝑬𝑸 𝓡𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺
𝓓𝑵𝑰: homophobes, racists, zionists, transphobes, xenophobes, wincest shippers. if you spread any kind of hate, your comment will be deleted or reported/i will block you.
writing requests: open bot requests: open
𝓡𝑬𝑸 𝓡𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺: i will only attend requests sent in my tumblr inbox, and they must be specific. if i don't attend/write your request, please don't ask again. if you want to ask any other thing or just talk, feel free to just message me!
• my readers are always fem, but i’m okay with writing gn!reader, however i won’t write male!reader.
• since i'm 16, i won't post anything containing explicit sexual content until i turn 18. the only one-shot containing smut that i've posted is one of rafe cameron x reader from a christmas event, which i won't be deleting.
• i won’t write noncon, incest, scat, vomit, (more may be added)
• i only make c.ai bots, i do not own any other accounts in other bot apps
• you’re responsible for the content you consume!
who i write for/do bots:
supernatural | dean winchester/jensen ackles, sam winchester/jared padalecki, castiel, bela talbot, charlie bradbury
outer banks | rafe cameron/drew starkey, sarah cameron, cleo anderson, kiara carrera, john b routledge, pope heyward, jj maybank
modern family | haley dunphy/sarah hyland, claire dunphy, gloria prichett, alex dunphy
challengers | patrick zweig, art donaldson, tashi duncan
stranger things | max mayfield, robin buckley, steve harrington, enzo/dmitri antonov
f1 drivers | carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, charles leclerc, george russell, max verstappen, oscar piastri, franco colapinto, gabriel bortoleto
⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠈
HII SWEETHEART Did you take request about stranger things or the pitt?
heyy! so, i never watched the pitt but i can take st requests. i’d probably take max, robin, steve and enzo requests, but i can write for other characters depending on the prompt 💕
AHHH I'M SO EXCITED YOUR BACK LOLAAAA <333
MISSED YOU SM
AAA IM HAPPY TO HEAR IT 💕
guess who’s back and taking requests 💕 (please request I’m totally out of ideas 😭😭
FIVE DAYS OF XMAS 2025 !
DAY 05 — FIRST CHRISTMAS TOGETHER
pairing: bf!rafe cameron x gf!reader
summary: you and your boyfriend spend your first Christmas together, just the two of you at Tannyhill. And later, at the beach.
contents: established relationship, fluff, smut, Christmas, S3!rafe/obx, public sex(empty beach), handjob, fingering
wc: 1.806
It’s been a few months since you moved into Tannyhill. It started with small things; a suitcase left in Rafe’s room for a little too long, a toothbrush added beside his in the bathroom, your shampoo slowly replacing his bottles. Then it became real. All your clothes filled half of his closet, your skincare lined the sink and you reorganized the kitchen cabinets because you couldn’t stand not knowing where things were. Slowly, the house stopped feeling like Rafe Cameron, the Kook Prince’s place and started feeling like yours together. Your relationship’s been going well anyway, so why not? Ward, Rose, and Wheezie were still in the Bahamas and Sarah was living with the Pogues.
That’s why this Christmas was different. It’s the first one you’ll spend together. Just the two of you. Your family is traveling, his was scattered across oceans and broken relationships.
On the morning of December 25th, you woke slowly. Draped across Rafe’s bare chest, his skin warm beneath your cheek, one heavy arm wrapped loosely around your back as if even in sleep he was aware of you. The room was quiet, washed in soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
You yawned, stretching your arms above your head, fingers brushing his shoulder before settling again. Then you lifted your head slightly and looked at him. You smiled to yourself.
Rafe’s eyes opened gradually, blinking against the light. It took him a second to focus, then he realized you were watching him and a slow, sleepy smile curved his lips. “Good morning,” he murmured, the word coming out as a low, half-formed mumble, voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning and Merry Christmas,” you replied softly, propping yourself against his hip to lean down and press a quick kiss to his lips. Rafe hummed quietly in response, hands tightening around you just a little.
“Merry Christmas,” Rafe answered, before burying his face into your neck and placing slow, lazy kisses there.
It took several minutes and more than a few of Rafe’s sleepy protests before you finally convinced him to get out of bed.
Downstairs, you pulled two mugs of hot chocolate from the fridge, the ones you’d made the night before, warmed them up and carried them to the living room.
The Christmas tree glows in the corner, lights blinking softly. Only four presents beneath it, two from you to Rafe and two from him to you. Originally, Rafe had hidden his gifts away in his office, but you’d insisted they needed to be under the tree for “the Christmas feeling.” He’d rolled his eyes, but he’d moved them anyway.
The TV played the movie you’d started the night before, the one neither of you had managed to finish before falling asleep on the couch. “So…” you said, cradling your mug, already glancing toward the tree. “Do you want to open the presents now?” Rafe huffed softly, amused. “You don’t even try to hide it,” he said. “I’m curious to see what you got me.” He shrugged. “Yeah. Go first.”
You set your mug down and stand, grabbing the first gift before sitting back beside him, the second one resting on your lap. Why two presents? Because you’d gotten carried away. And because you’d noticed something missing in the house.
You hand him the shopping bag first. Rafe untied the ribbon and pulled out a lightweight cotton flannel, soft to the touch, in a wide plaid pattern of beige and light gray — similar to the blue one he wore all the time. Resting on top was a Polaroid photo.
He recognized it instantly; the two of you, early in your relationship, outside a small ice cream shop near the beach. Sunburned, smiling, careless. He picked up the photo, thumb brushing over it gently, and looked up at you with a smile that reached his eyes. “Thanks, baby.”
“There’s another one,” you said, grinning, handing him the small red box tied with a green ribbon. “All right,” he said, taking it with a smile that looked almost boyish. Considering his past, you figured it had been a long time since he’d experienced a Christmas this warm.
Inside the box is a simple black key holder with five hooks. “This one’s for me too,” you laugh lightly, explaining. “We didn’t have one, and now with all the keys, we can’t just keep tossing them on tables.” There were one house key for each one of you, a spare, two car keys, and the key to Rafe’s bike.
He chuckled. “We both know you’re also going to steal the shirt.” Yeah, that’s true.
Then Rafe stands up and walks toward the tree, grabbing the two gifts he’d bought for you. He hands you the small bag first.
Inside is a little box. You open it carefully, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a small sun-shaped pendant. “I…” he started, his voice low. “I’ve gotten a lot better since I met you. You… kind of brought light into my life,” Rafe avoids your eyes as he speaks.
You smile, lean forward, and wrap your arms around him. “Thank you.”
Without another word, Rafe passed you the second gift, wrapped in festive paper. You open it to find a vibrant beach wrap, bright and soft. You smile softly, realizing he must have remembered every time you complained about wearing a bikini with denim shorts to the beach. “It’s beautiful,” you say, leaning in to kiss Rafe.
“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, returning the kiss. “I stood in the store way too long trying to decide,” Rafe wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you down with him onto the couch.
The movie kept playing in the background. Outside, the island was quiet. The Christmas lights cast a warm glow across the room. And even though it was still early morning, your Christmas already felt perfect.
But the day was only getting started.
It is nearly midnight now, and you and Rafe walk barefoot along the empty Outer Banks shoreline. The sand is cold beneath your feet and occasional waves that lap at your toes feel like ice. Rafe holds your hand in his, fingers laced together, while his other hand carries both pairs of your shoes.
You’re wearing the dress he’d watched you put on earlier that evening; a short, ribbed knit dress that clings to your frame before flaring gently at the hips. The high neck and long sleeves protect you from the biting wind, though you hardly need the warmth.
Even without turning your head, you can feel his gaze running all over you. It’s a look that says “damn, that’s my girl” without making a sound.
You turn your face toward him, and there are the blue eyes you fell in love with. “What are you thinking about?” you ask, a smile already playing on your lips because you already know the answer.
“Nothing,” he shrugged, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Just admiring the view,” there’s a pause. “And noticing how there’s not a single soul on this beach.”
“Is that so?” You turn fully toward him then, circling your arms around his neck. Rising onto your toes, you kiss him softly, just a brush. “Mhm,” he murmurs against your mouth, his free hand finding your waist and pulling you flush against him to deepen the kiss.
“That lifeguard stand looks comfortable,” you whisper when you finally pull back, nodding toward the wooden structure a few yards behind you.
Within moments, you’re underneath its wooden stairs. Rafe presses you against the thick support pillar, his mouth finding yours again with renewed hunger. You run your tongue along his lower lip, and he yields, letting you take control, letting you set the pace that he would always follow.
Both of his hands are on you now, roaming up your back and lifting the rear of your dress. The knit fabric bunched at your waist, exposing you to the cool air. Your hands find his belt and his breath stutters for a second. You unbuckle and unzip his jeans with practiced efficiency, fingers working fast and sure, finding him already hard when you slip your hand into his boxers.
“Fuck, baby…” Rafe groans, his head falling back against as your thumb spreads the bead of pre-cum over his tip. From the very beginning, you’d learned how to make him feel good, just as he’d learned to satisfy you better than anyone else ever could.
You set a methodical rhythm, almost cruel to Rafe’s patience. You know all his expressions: the way his jaw locks when you deliberately slow your strokes, the shiver that ripples through him when you focus on the sensitive underside. With Rafe, you don’t need words. Your language is wordless.
He comes with a choked sound, a low groan he never intended to let escape, resting his forehead against yours. You keep holding his length, your hand moving slowly, drawing out every last pulse. When it’s over, his tongue slips into your mouth, kissing you with a passion that feels like devotion and consumption at once.
“My turn,” Rafe whispers against your lips.
His hand slides beneath your dress, pure intent. His fingers tease along the lace edge of your panties, then slip beneath the fabric to find you already wet. “Always ready for me, huh?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
His thumb finds your clit, pressing in slow, tight circles that make your thighs tremble. His other hand pulls your dress higher, gripping your ass. He knows you now; knows when to accelerate, when to be tender and slow, when to add another finger and curl them just right to make your vision blur.
Your head falls to his shoulder as two fingers slide inside. You forgot you were on a public beach, forgot everything except the feel of him. How fortunate for the people who’d decided to travel for Christmas or stay tucked in their homes. And fortunate for you both.
When you come, the moan is ripped from your throat and carried away by the wind. Your fingers clench in his shirt, anchoring yourself to the only solid thing in a spinning world. Rafe murmurs praises into your throat, worshipful words you can’t quite make out but feel in your marrow. Even through the knit of your dress, he presses kisses along your shoulders and collarbone, ending with one deliberate press of lips against the necklace he’d given you hours ago.
“Home to finish this?” Rafe asks, lifting his head with a mischievous smirk that makes your heart stutter.
“You already know the answer,” you reply, chuckling softly.
And so you begin the walk back toward Tannyhill, your hands intertwined, Christmas lights winking from the houses that lined the shore. The first Christmas together.
FIVE DAYS OF XMAS 2025 !
DAY 04 — SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN
pairing: bf!dean winchester x gf!reader
summary: you and your boyfriend spend Christmas night singing karaokes.
contents: fluff, Christmas, alcohol consumption, light drunkenness(dean), established relationship, kissing
wc: 702
a/n: only posting this now because i decided to travel last minute and didn’t have much time to write before 🫠
“He’s making’ a list, he’s checkin’ it twice,” Dean sings, his voice a little too loud and just a little too rough around the edges, evidence of the several bottles of beer he’s already worked his way through tonight. He sways slightly from side to side, gripping a half-empty bottle like it’s a microphone meant for a sold-out arena.
You don’t even try to keep up with him or the song. You’re laughing too hard, breathless, wiping at your eyes as tears of amusement threaten to spill. Your own microphone(a flashlight) forgotten on the table beside the laptop, which blares out the karaoke version of “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town,” by Bruce Springsteen. Of course even on Christmas, especially on Christmas, it has to be rock as long as Dean Winchester is in the room.
“He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice,” he continues, flashing you a grin that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing.
On naughty, his hand settles on your hip.
On or, that same arm slides around your waist, pulling you in closer until your bodies are nearly pressed together.
And on nice, his lips press just beneath your ear, warm and lingering, before he pulls back only to give your earlobe a teasing bite.
“Dean,” you scold him, though you let out a soft laugh as you finally grab your flashlight again. “Come on. Sing,” Dean grabs your hand and tugs you toward him like he’s pulling you onto a stage, as if the two of you are about to perform for a cheering crowd instead of an empty living room lit by cheap Christmas lights.
Together, you sing the chorus. “Santa Claus is coming to town,” you belt out, a little off-key but enthusiastic. And again. “Santa Claus is coming to town.”
On the very last line, Dean goes all in; bending his knees, throwing his shoulders back, eyes squeezed shut as he sings(shouts) the words dramatically, channeling Bruce Springsteen himself. You barely make it past the first word before you dissolve into laughter, watching him fully commit. “Santa Claus is coming to tooooown!”
A few minutes later, the chorus comes back around and Dean does the exact same thing again. But this time, you join him, mirroring his ridiculous theatrics, laughing and singing until the song finally fades out.
Still laughing, you lean in and press a quick, soft kiss to his lips. “You smell like beer,” you murmur against him.
Dean’s mouth curves into a smug, satisfied grin. “You like that smell,” he says easily, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you backward until you both tumble onto the couch. Another karaoke track starts playing on the laptop, but neither of you pays it any attention now.
What matters is this: you, your slightly drunk boyfriend, and a Christmas that’s anything but traditional, yet somehow perfect.
You end up stretched out together on the couch, lying side by side. You’re half sprawled on top of him, your head resting comfortably on his chest, using it as a pillow. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus,” Dean murmurs softly, his voice still rough, his words just a little slurred.
You lift your head slightly to look at him, amused. “Oh, I’m Mrs. Claus, and you’re Santa?” you tease. You know damn well that even if he’s drunk now, Dean would definitely say something like that while sober.
“Hell yeah,” he says with a lazy grin. “I’m in town,” he laughs at his own joke, clearly proud of it.
“You’re drunk,” you tell him. “Tipsy,” Dean corrects, slurring just enough to make it obvious.
You smile to yourself, settling back against him. “Merry Christmas.”
A comfortable silence settles in, the kind that feels safe. The glow of the Christmas lights flickers softly around the room while you lie there together, wrapped up in each other and the quiet magic of the night. Then Dean breaks it. “So, naughty or nice?”
“Dean,” you warn, trying to sound serious, but failing when laughter slips out anyway.
And that’s how you spend Christmas night. Karaoke humming in the background, singing every now and then, sharing a beer or two and stealing kisses.
Hihi!!
I've been into writing rafe fics too and i was hoping you'd like to be mutuals? <3
suree 💞