When you both have a bondage kink, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Threesome with frat!rafe and Barry, 2, 3
Rafe sends you a video of him jerking off and cums in his mouth
Rafe x Pogue!reader who he swears he’s hated all his life but would actually do anything for you
Letting Rafe fuck your pussy with a dildo and his cock at the same time
Failing strict professor!Rafe’s class so you ask him for extra credit to boost your grade
Olderbf!Rafe likes it when you call him daddy
Ex-husband!rafe nuts in you after he finds out your off the pill
Fucking Sofia with a strap-on while Rafe fucks you from behind
Holding your thighs open while he fingers you because he loves to watch you squirm
Fwb!rafe fucks his toy he molded of you and sends you a video of how good it feels when you’re out of town
Praising you when you’re ready to tap out because it’s too big
Abusing your throat while he watches you get yourself off with a fuck machine
Rafe hates Pogue!reader but gives you a ride home from a party after Sarah ditched you
Teasing your pussy with his gun
Pulling on your French braids while he fucks you from behind
Bf!rafe fulfilling your kidnapping fantasy, 2, 3
Drunk sex with exbf!rafe after you called him at the bar telling him how much you miss his dick
Rafe missing you on his cross country bike trip
Sofia eats your pussy while Rafe fucks you
Ceo!rafe fucking his secretary on a work trip
Spanking you with his belt until you’re beet-red
Stepbro!Rafe can’t help but use your holes whenever your parents are out of the house
You’re Topper’s girlfriend and he can’t make you cum so Rafe shows you how it’s done
Pausing his game to fuck this shit out of you because you’re needy and won’t stop begging
Ripping your fishnets open pt. 3
Stepbro!rafe gags you with your soaked panties while he fucks so Rose and Ward don’t hear
Stepbro!Rafe loves your pink pajamas 🌸
Fucking you in your favorite position to The Weeknd
Patheticsub!Rafe whimpers and begs you to let him cum
You like it when bluecollar!rafe teases and kicks your pussy with his work boots
Polyamorous bsf!rafe fucks you in the same bed as Sofia and she watches
“Cum on my dick, pretty girl”
Making him cum in his boxers by rubbing your ass against it
Dilf!rafe fingers your ass while he fucks you
Bf!Rafe bends you over the hood of his car at a party because he couldn’t wait till you got home
Overstimming you until you reach the brink of insanity, 2
When you visit doctor!Rafe and he ties you up to the exam bed
Dilf!rafe couldn’t resist nanny!reader
Fucking you standing up so he can get every last inch inside
Season2!Rafe too coked out to stop fucking you round after round
Losing your v-card to bf!Rafe
Rafe is an eater 10 toes down, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
✨ BONUS CONTENT ✨ Rafe feeds into your mask kink
Ghostface, 2, 3, 4, 5 (2 for 1 with Barry😛)
Simon Riley, 2, 3
The Purge Mask
Ski mask, 2
A/N: HUGE thank you to the lovely, perfect, amazing, and wonderful @rafesbabygirlx for helping me create this list of plinks!! Love you Pooks. 💜 ps, I’m contemplating writing a fic based on the Rafe x reader x Sofia strap-on link… would y’all read that? Lmk!! :)
Divider creds to @/moonstoneandmoonlight and @/sisterlucifergraphics <33
Warnings: Male/Female masturbation, swearing, praising, nude videos, c*m in one’s own mouth, no use of (y/n)
✭ ✭ ✭
Rafe Cameron was your favorite pornstar. He also happened to hit you up a few times, thanks to your Onlyfans. You were faceless, simply indulging others with your dirty little secret. He was one of them.
It wasn’t often and he didn’t always ask for something in return, but every few moons you’d open twitter to find a new DM from him.
And every time he was naked.
Tonight isn’t any different.
During your late night notif check, your eye catches the blue dot on your inbox. It’s always overflowing with girls and men who seem to think you’re theirs. Often you ignore it but something told you to look this time.
His name stares back at you like a taunt, daring you to risk losing sleep. But you can’t resist, never him.
So you click it.
Immediately you’re met with the sight of his dick. Flushed pink, hard and obviously on the verge of exploding. Your breath catches as the feeling of arousal spreads between your legs, building a small ache.
Rafe’s hand squeezes, veins bulging with his shaky puffs. "This's for you, baby.” he growls, pumping his cock faster. Swallowed groans leave his Adam’s apple bobbing with every thrust into his hand, getting him closer to release.
You feel your own pleasure build, making you want to tug your panties to the side and send him a video right back. Doing your best to keep it together, you look away, letting out a sigh before reluctantly slipping your hand into your shorts.
By this time, your arousal is painful in desperation, forcing you to tend to your needs more impatiently than usual.
You rub your clit, gasping quietly as you speed up. Rafe’s own voice in the video comes out more ragged, needy for you. “You’re so fucking sexy, you get my dick so hard.” he grits, which causes your heartbeat to speed up.
For the next few minutes, you continue to back the video up to the beginning, refusing to allow yourself to see the end until you reach yours. It drones on with the same praises, same bitten lip and twitching mustache. Then you slip your fingers in.
Soft moans are buried into your pillow as you bite down, afraid to be too loud. Afraid of getting caught.
Fingers pull, sink and curl up in the depths of your warm pussy, until your pulsating walls begin to clench. Slick continues to build, along with your whines and quiet, “Rafe’s” until your hips are involuntarily rutting against your hand.
Trying to keep your eyes from squeezing shut, you catch the way he licks his bottom lip. You bite yours, listening to him groan. You whimper, pressing your knuckle deeper until it hits the right spot. For a beat, your room is hot and silent, then Rafe cums.
In his own mouth.
A gasped moan chokes past your throat, the feeling in your core pausing, then twisting with something stronger. Something you didn’t know you’d need.
Rafe smirks, keeping his eyes out of frame as warm seed shoots messy strings into his mouth. The feeling in your stomach takes over the rest of your body, causing you to shake and cry out in euphoric bliss.
When the video ends and you're left in the darkness of your room, only one thought crosses your mind.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mdni. therapist/patient relationship, unethical therapy, professional boundary violations, power imbalance, emotional dependency, obsessive thoughts, explicit sexual content, fingering, edging/orgasm denial, dirty talk, discussion of compulsive sexual behavior/sex addiction, unhealthy relationship dynamics, and emotional manipulation.
this work is entirely fictional and is not intended to romanticize or endorse therapist-patient relationships or unethical clinical conduct.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: twenty six sessions in, you're still pretending dr. cameron is just your therapist. he's still pretending he doesn't look forward to thursday evenings. you've told him everything except the truth, that every fantasy you've had for months ends with him.
𝐚/𝐧: a serious genius sent me this idea. i'm so so happy they did because i had a similar idea previously but didn't have the courage to pursue it due to... well. you know. which is funny because i've written much more taboo content. anyway, if you're reading this my love, thank you for the courage! this story explores quiet obsession and an intentionally unethical therapist/patient relationship. none of this is meant to reflect healthy therapy or healthy relationships. please read the warnings before continuing. ♡
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.9k
you're fifteen minutes early. you're never early.
the waiting room is empty, which is good because you don't think you could sit here making small talk with another patient right now. the white noise machine hums from somewhere behind the reception desk, a constant static that's supposed to be soothing but just makes you more aware of every sound your body makes. your breathing. the rustle of your clothes. the tap of your shoe against the floor that you can't seem to stop.
you left your hair down even though you always tie it back for sessions because it feels too vulnerable otherwise. but today you want to feel vulnerable. you want him to notice.
you check your phone. 6:47pm. his last appointment of the day is always at seven. you know this because you've been coming here every thursday at seven for six months and you've never seen anyone leave after you.
six months.
you remember the first session. how you sat on that couch and couldn't look at him while you explained why you were there. "i have a problem with sex," you'd said, and the words felt stupid coming out of your mouth. so clinical and detached.
"tell me about it," he'd said, and his voice was so calm that you actually looked up at him. he was leaning back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, pen in hand but not writing anything yet.
so you told him about the compulsion. about the way you'd fuck someone and feel nothing and then do it again the next night hoping it would be different. the way you fixated on people... strangers, mostly, and built entire fantasies around them until the reality of actually being with them shattered everything. how you were chasing something you couldn't understand or begin to grasp.
he'd listened to all of it. didn't flinch, didn't judge, didn't try to fix it right away. just asked questions. "what do you think you're looking for?" and "how do you feel in the moment, right before?" and "what happens after?"
you'd left that first session feeling raw.
the second session, you noticed his hands. the way he held the pen, the way his fingers moved when he gestured while talking. you told yourself it didn't mean anything.
by the fourth session, you were thinking about his voice at night.
by the eighth session, you realized you were dressing differently on thursdays.
and then one night, session eleven, maybe twelve, you were fucking some guy you'd met at a party and you weren't thinking about him at all. you were thinking about dr. cameron. about what his hands would feel like instead. about whether he'd be gentle or rough, whether he'd talk to you the way he does in sessions, that calm steady voice asking you questions while he—
you'd came so hard you scared yourself. that was a rarity. you never came.
after that, it was over. every hookup became a placeholder for him. every confession in therapy became a way to see if he'd react, if you could make him break that professional mask even for a second. you started telling him more explicit details. not because you needed to for therapy, but because you wanted to see what he'd do with the information. if he'd really look at you.
you're pretty sure he does. you've caught him sometimes, when you're in the middle of a story, and there's something in his eyes that doesn't really feel like clinical interest.
or maybe you're delusional and maybe this whole thing is just another fixation.
but today feels different.
last weekend you fucked someone in a bar bathroom and the entire time you were imagining it was dr. cameron. you’d said his name so quietly, barely a whisper, but the guy heard it. asked "who's rafe?" and you'd lied, said it was your ex, but the truth sat in your chest like a bag of heavy rocks.
you can't keep doing this. you can't keep coming here every thursday and confessing everything except the one thing that actually matters.
the door to the inner office opens.
dr. cameron steps out, holding a file. he's wearing a light colored button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and you hate that you notice. the way his forearms flex, and how his long fingers grip the file. he sees you and something flickers across his face. surprise, maybe, but it's gone so fast you might have imagined it.
"hey," he says. "you're early."
"yeah." your voice sounds normal. "is that okay?"
"of course. come on in."
you follow him into the office and the familiar space feels different today, even though its all the same. the couch where you always sit with his chair angled toward it. the desk in the corner with his laptop and stacks of files. the lamp that casts everything in warm light. the door closes behind you, and you hear the lock click into place like he always does, for privacy, but today the sound makes your stomach turn.
"how was your week?" he asks, settling into his chair.
you sit on the couch, your usual spot. nothing feels normal. your skin is too tight.
"it was fine," you say. "i mean, not fine. i don't know."
he waits. he's good at that. letting silence stretch until you fill it.
"i hooked up with someone last weekend," you say, and you watch his face for a reaction, but there's nothing. just that calm, attentive expression. "met him at a bar."
"okay," he says. "tell me about it."
so you do. you tell him about meeting the guy, about how easy it was to fall into that classic pattern—drinks, flirting, the bathroom with its flickering fluorescent light and the smell of cheap soap. you tell him about fucking the guy against the sink, your jeans around your ankles, his hands on your hips, and how the entire time you were somewhere else. you were here. in this office. with dr. cameron's hands on you instead.
he's leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, and he's listening the way he always does, but there's something else underneath it. the lamp casts shadows across his face and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers are pressed together.
"and after?" he asks. his voice is steady but there's something underneath it now, something that wasn't there before. "how did you feel after?"
"empty," you say. the word sits between you like a stone. "like always."
"but you did it anyway."
"yeah."
"why?"
you shrug, but the gesture feels wrong, too casual for what you're about to say. "because... because i wanted to feel something? i guess? anything." the words come out uncertain, like you're testing them as you speak.
there's a pause that stretches way too long. it makes you aware of the distant sound of traffic outside muffled by the closed window, the fact that you're alone in this room with him and the door is locked. you can hear your own breathing. his too, if you listen closely enough.
and then you say it.
"i've been thinking about you," your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. "since session six. maybe earlier. i don't know."
session six is definitely a lie. you’d been thinking about him since session two. but there’s no way you could admit something like that. telling him at all was more than enough.
his face changes. it's subtle, just a flash of something raw crossing his features before he can stop it. he looks away, down at his hands where they're pressed together between his knees, and for a moment he's just a man sitting in a chair. not a therapist. not someone in control. just a man who's been caught.
when he looks back at you, his jaw is tight, and whatever argument he'd been having with himself is over. you can see it in his eyes.
"session six," he repeats, and his voice is quieter now, rougher around the edges. "that's... that's a long time."
"yeah."
he's quiet for another moment. you watch him process it, watch the way his chest rises and falls a little faster than it should. his fingers unclasp and he runs one hand through his hair, messing it up in a way you've never seen before.
"why didn't you tell me?" he asks.
"because i thought it would go away," you reply. the confession feels like peeling off skin. "i thought if i just... maybe if i kept coming here, kept talking about it, it would stop. but it didn't. it got worse."
he nods slowly. you can see the conflict playing out on his face, the way his mouth tightens, the way he looks at you and then away and then back again like he can't help himself.
he stands up. the movement is sudden enough that you flinch, and for a second you think he's going to ask you to leave, going to tell you this was a mistake and that you need to find another therapist. but he doesn't. he walks away from you, toward the window, and stands there with his back to you, one hand coming up to grip the back of his neck. you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way they're drawn up tight. the way they rise and fall with his breathing. the office feels smaller suddenly, the walls much closer.
he's pacing now. not frantically or anything, just a few steps back and forth in front of the window, looking at the floor like he's trying to work something out. his hand falls from his neck and he shoves both hands in his pockets, then pulls them out again. you watch him, and you realize this is it. this is the moment where he decides whether to cross the line or send you away.
he stops so abruptly it almost looks like something catches him. his hand falls away from the back of his neck again and when he turns, he doesn't say anything right away. he just looks at you, and there's something in his eyes you've never seen before. something hungry and raw and completely unprofessional.
the way he looks at you... it's not the way a therapist looks at a patient.
"stand up," he says.
you do. your legs feel shaky, unsteady, but you stand anyway. your hands are trembling at your sides.
"come here."
he sits back down in his chair, and the distance between the couch and where he's sitting is barely a few steps, but it feels way longer now. each one gives you another chance to turn around, another chance to pretend none of this happened, to walk out and find a new therapist and never come back. you don't take it.
your shoes are silent on the carpet. you're standing in front of him now, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. close enough to see the way his pupils are dilated, the way his chest is rising and falling faster than normal. there's no trace of the careful distance he'd kept for six months. it's gone completely.
"sit," he says, patting his lap.
"dr. cameron—"
"sit."
you do. you lower yourself onto his lap slowly, your back settling against his chest. his thighs are thick and solid and warm beneath you, the muscle firm under the fabric of his pants. you can feel his cock, already hard, pressing against your ass through the denim of your jeans. the knowledge of it sends heat flooding through you. you want to shift, to grind back against him, but you force yourself to stay still because part of you still can't even believe this is happening.
his hands settle on your thighs. warm and heavy, the weight of them grounding you.
"keep talking," he says, his voice low in your ear. you can feel his breath against your neck, warm and slightly uneven. "tell me about the compulsion."
"i—i don't know what you want me to say."
his hands slide higher, fingers tracing the inside of your thighs through your jeans. the touch is light, almost teasing. "tell me what it feels like. when you're with someone. what are you chasing?"
you can barely think. his fingers are moving in slow circles on your inner thighs and it's making it hard to form words. "i don't know... validation, maybe? proof that i'm wanted."
"and do you get it?"
"no. never."
his fingers pop the button on your jeans. the sound is loud in the quiet office, the snap of metal against fabric. you lift your hips slightly so he can pull the zipper down. the rasp of metal teeth separating sounds almost deafening in the silence.
"why not?" he murmurs, sliding his hand inside your jeans, over your underwear. you're already wet, soaked through the fabric, and you know he can feel it. his fingers press against you through the damp cotton and you gasp, your hips jerking forward involuntarily.
"because... because it's never enough," you whisper. "it's never—fuck—"
he presses against your clit through the fabric and your hips jerk forward again. his other hand comes up to grip your jaw, fingers splaying across your cheek and throat, holding your head back against his shoulder. the grip is firm and feels like a gentle anchor.
"keep talking," he says. "you're doing so good."
"dr. cameron, please—"
"please what?" his thumb catches the edge of your underwear, easing it aside. his fingers find you almost absently, like he's waiting for your answer more than your reaction, but you can hear the wet sound of it when he slides through your folds. "use your words."
you can't answer. your eyes are squeezing shut and it feels like you're hardly breathing. he circles your clit once, twice, and you're already shaking. the jeans are tight around your hips, constricting, and his hand is trapped inside them, the denim pressing his knuckles against you in a way that's almost uncomfortable but also perfect.
his fingers stop circling. they just rest there, warm and still against your clit. the sudden absence of movement makes you whimper, a sound you didn't mean to make.
"the guy from last weekend," he says. not a question. his breath is against your ear, warm and steady. "tell me what he did."
"he—" your voice cracks. you can't think. his fingers are right there but not moving and it's worse than if he'd pulled away completely. the stillness is torture. "i don't—"
"you don't remember?" his fingers slide lower, just barely, teasing your entrance. you can feel the tip of one finger pressing against you, not pushing in, just resting there. "or you don't want to tell me?"
"no, i—he fucked me. in the—" you're breathing too fast. the words won't come out right. your brain can't form complete thoughts with his hand between your legs. "backseat. i was—"
his fingers push inside you. just the tips, just enough that you can feel the stretch, the intrusion. you gasp and lose the sentence completely, your mouth falling open.
"you were what?"
"on top," you manage. "i was on top."
he pushes deeper. not all the way, just enough that you can feel the stretch, the promise of more. his fingers are thick and you can feel every ridge, every knuckle as they slide into you. then he stops again and holds still inside you, buried to the second knuckle.
"did you cum?"
"no."
his fingers don't move and he’s silent for a moment. you can feel your pulse around them, can feel yourself clenching involuntarily, trying to pull him deeper. the stillness is maddening.
"why not?" he asks, and his voice is so calm, so steady, like he's asking about the weather while his fingers are inside you and you're falling apart in his lap.
"because i—" you're shaking. "i never—with them, i can't—"
"can't or don't?"
"both? neither. i don't know." the words come out frustrated, desperate.
his thumb brushes your clit. once. the lightest touch. you jerk against him and he pulls it away immediately, denying you.
"but you want to," he says.
"yes—fuck—yes."
"what do you think about?" his fingers curl inside you slightly, pressing against that spot. not enough pressure. just enough to make you aware of it. "when you're with them. when they're inside you... what's in your head?"
you don't answer. you can't. your breath is coming in short gasps and his hand is still gripping your jaw, holding you in place, and you can feel the heat of him against your back, the solid weight of his chest. the hardness of his cock pressing into you through your jeans, and you wonder if he's as desperate as you are, if this is killing him too.
"answer me," he says, and his fingers push deeper, all the way now, buried inside you to the knuckle. you cry out, the sound echoing in the small office.
"i can't—"
"yes you can." he starts moving them. slow, methodical thrusts that make you see stars. his thumb finds your clit again and circles it once, twice. the dual sensation is overwhelming. "tell me what you think about."
"i—" you're climbing already, way too fast. the pressure building low in your belly, spreading through your thighs. "i think about—"
he stops. completely stops. his fingers buried inside you but motionless, his thumb lifting off your clit.
this broken and desperate sound falls from your mouth, something you'd never even heard before.
"say it," he says.
"you," you gasp. "i... i think about—fuck—i think about you."
"me." his voice is rough now, the professional veneer cracking. "you think about me while some stranger fucks you in a parking lot."
"yes."
"what am i doing?" his fingers move again, just slightly, just enough to remind you they're there. "in your head. what am I doing to you?"
"this," you whisper. "you're—you're doing this."
"yeah?" he pushes deeper, curling his fingers inside you. you can feel every ridge, every knuckle, the stretch of it. his thumb finds your clit and he starts moving in a rhythm that has you climbing fast. too fast. your hips start to move, grinding back against his cock, and you can feel how hard he is, can hear the way his breath catches. his other hand tightens on your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks.
"stay still," he says.
you try. you're shaking so fucking badly, your thighs trembling. you're right there, right on the edge, the pressure building and building and—
he stops. his fingers stay inside you but they don't move. his thumb lifts off your clit.
"no—please—"
"tell me more," he says. his voice is steady but you can hear the strain in it now. "you think about me. what do i do? in your head?"
you're gasping. you can feel tears starting to form, burning in your eyes. "i can't—"
"yes you can." his fingers move slightly, just a tiny curl, pressing against that spot inside you. "tell me what i do to you. in your fantasies."
"you—you touch me like this," you say, your voice breaking. "you make me—you don't stop. you let me cum."
"do i?" his fingers curl inside you again, harder this time, and you cry out. "what else?"
"you fuck me," you whisper. "you fuck me and you—and you tell me i'm good."
"you are doing good," he says, and his thumb presses against your clit again. you're climbing again, faster this time, the pressure building impossibly fast. "you're being so good for me right now."
"dr. ca—"
"tell me why you chase validation," he continues. meanwhile his fingers are moving inside you, pumping in and out, and you can hear the wet sound of it, obscene in the quiet office. you can feel yourself dripping, soaking his hand, soaking through your jeans. "what are you trying to prove?"
"i don't—i can't think—"
"try."
you have actual tears on your face now, hot and wet and streaming. "that i'm worth something. that someone wants me."
"and do you feel that? with the men you fuck?"
"no—never—please—"
you're right there again. your whole body is tense and shaking and his fingers are moving faster and his thumb is circling your clit and you're so close, so fucking close, the pressure building to an unbearable peak and—
he stops again.
you actually sob, the sound wrenching out of you.
"not yet," he says. "we're not done talking."
"please," you beg. "pleaseplease let me cum. i can't—"
"you can." his voice is firm. "breathe."
you try. the jeans are soaked now, the denim dark with wetness. you can smell it, the smell of sex starting to fill the office, mixing with the scent of his cologne and the faint smell of coffee from earlier.
"why do you think you fixate on people who can't give you what you need?" he asks.
"i don't know."
"yes you do."
"because—because it's safe," you gasp. "because if they can't give it to me then i can't be disappointed."
"and me?" his thumb brushes your clit, so light it's almost nothing. "am i safe?"
"no."
"why not?"
"because you could actually—fuck—you could actually hurt me."
"how?"
you're crying. "because i actually want you. not just—not just the sex. you."
his fingers start moving again. slow, and you're climbing again, faster now. you grind back against his cock and he doesn't stop you this time. you can feel him hard and thick against your ass, can hear the way his breathing has changed, rougher now.
"say it again," he says.
"i want you."
"louder."
"i want you," you say, your voice breaking. "i want you so fucking bad. please- please let me cum. i'm so close. please."
he's building you up again. his thumb on your clit, his fingers inside you, and you're climbing so fast you can't breathe. his other hand is still on your jaw, holding you in place. you can feel his breath against your ear, the slight hitch in it, and you realize he's as affected as you are.
"that's it—" he whispers quietly. "take what you need."
you're right there. right fucking there. the pressure is unbearable and—
his fingers go still.
but this time he doesn't pull away. just... stops. his fingers stay buried inside you, his thumb resting against your clit. completely motionless. completely silent.
the silence is worse. you're right there, right on the edge, and he's not moving and he's not saying anything. you can feel your pulse in your clit, can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more. the stillness is psychological torture. you need it so bad you could honestly cum right then and there without him touching you anymore. your pussy is clenching around nothing, beggining for it. but god, what a waste that would be.
so you wait. five seconds. ten. fifteen. your breath coming in short gasps.
finally, he speaks.
"why do you think you're here?" he asks, and his voice is quiet. "really here. not the answer you gave me in session one. the real answer."
"i don't—"
"yes you do." his fingers curl slightly inside you, just enough to make you gasp, but then he goes still again. "why are you here?"
"because..." you whisper. "because i don't know how to want something without destroying it. because i'm afraid if i let myself actually have something real, i'll ruin it."
"and me?" his thumb presses against your clit, just barely. "what am i?"
"real," you say. you're crying again. "you're real. and i'm terrified."
"good," he says, and his fingers start moving again. slow at first, then faster, harder, and his thumb is circling your clit and you're climbing so fast you can't breathe. "you should be terrified. because i'm not going to let you run from this. i'm not going to let you turn me into another fantasy you can chase and never catch. this is real."
"yes—fuck—yes—"
"knowing you go home and touch yourself and imagine it's me?" his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot, and he doesn't stop this time. his thumb is relentless, circling and pressing and you're climbing higher and higher. "knowing you're so desperate for it you'll fuck anyone just to feel something?"
"oh my... god, please—"
"you don't need them," he says. his fingers are relentless now, pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds loud and sloppy and obscene. "you need someone who knows what you need. someone who's been listening. someone who's been paying attention for six fucking months."
"i—i'm—i'm gonna—"
"then do it," he says. "cum on my fingers. right here in my office. show me what you look like when you finally get what you need."
and you do. you cum so hard you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but feel. it hits you like a wave, starting deep in your core and radiating outward. your body convulses in his lap, every muscle tensing and releasing. your hips grinding back against his cock, and his fingers don't stop moving, drawing it out, prolonging it. the orgasm tears through you in waves, each one crashing over you harder than the last. you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, rhythmic pulses that seem to go on forever. the wetness gushing out of you, soaking his hand, soaking your jeans, probably soaking through to his pants.
you're aware of everything and nothing—the way your thighs are shaking uncontrollably, the way your breath is coming in broken gasps, the way you can hear yourself making sounds you've never made before, desperate and raw. his fingers keep moving, keep curling, keep hitting that spot inside you, and just when you think it's over another wave hits and you're crying out again, your back arching, your head thrown back against his shoulder. it goes on and on, longer than ever before, until you're begging him to stop, until it's too much, until you can't take anymore.
when you finally come down, you're crying. actual tears streaming down your face, your breath coming in gasps. he pulls his fingers out slowly and you whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness. your jeans are soaked, the denim dark and wet, clinging to your thighs.
"shh," he says, wrapping his arms around you. "you're okay. you did so good."
you're trembling. you can still feel his cock hard against your ass and you want to turn around, want to touch him, want to make him feel what you just felt, but you can't move. your body won't cooperate.
"that's what you needed," he says quietly. "someone who knows you. someone who listens."
you nod, still trying to catch your breath.
"next session," he says, and his voice is back to that calm, professional tone, like he didn't just make you come apart in his lap, "we're going to talk about why you keep choosing people who can't give you what you need. i think we made some progress today on identifying the root of the compulsion."
you almost laugh. the absurdity of it.
"okay," you whisper.
"good," he says. "now go clean yourself up. there's a bathroom down the hall."
you stand on shaky legs. your jeans are dark with wetness and you have to button them with trembling fingers. when you look back at him, he's watching you, his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. the sight of it sends another jolt of heat through you.
"same time next week?" he asks.
"yeah," you say. "same time."
you walk out of his office on legs that barely work. in the bathroom, you look at yourself in the mirror. your face is flushed, your eyes red and glassy, your lips swollen. there's a mark on your neck from where his hand gripped your jaw, dark and obvious. you reach up to touch it. the skin is tender, slightly raised. you stare at it for a long moment, and then you notice something else in the mirror's reflection: your therapy appointment card, sticking out of your back pocket. the next date is already written on it in his handwriting. thursday. same time. you pull it out and look at it.
he wrote it before today's session.
you tuck the card back into your pocket. look at yourself in the mirror one more time. the mark on your neck. your flushed face.
Your Big Dick Ex-Boyfriend knows exactly how to get to you. 😋🍆 (Hi my beautiful loves. 🌸 I am very rusty. So please go easy on me lol.)
Having an ex-boyfriend like Rafe wasn’t easy. He was arrogant, got angry at the littlest things, and never thought he did anything wrong. It was after a fight over something so stupid that you left because you knew it was never going to change with him. You could no longer tip toe around him , deal with his extremely particular behavior or the fact he was the cockiness man alive. However, there was one thing about him you couldn’t seem to let go. That was he had a huge wiener. You were talking third leg type of shit.
It had been almost a month since you had left the apartment the two of you shared and he hadn’t let up still. You had blocked him on everything. His number, instagram, even Facebook messenger. You were convinced he was crazy. You had been staying with your cousin Kiara, doing your best to go on about life and forget Rafe Cameron ever existed. A girl can only go so long though without sex, watching porn and using your toys were not cutting it anymore. All you could think about was one thing.
A night out with the girls and too much Tequila in your system had you unblocking his number by the end of the night. You texted him, told him how much you missed his dick, and since he had huge ego he of course thrived off of you unblocking him just to have you blowing up his phone telling about how much you wanted him to pound your pussy. How he had the biggest dick ever.
It was the next morning when your head was pounding that you picked up your phone after hearing a text notification followed by another one. You unlocked it, your text thread with Rafe pulling up. You cursed, seeing the last two things he had sent you. A mirror selfie of him, black t-shirt reading Cameron Development, lifted up to expose his tight abs. His khaki work pants unbuttoned and unzipped, heavy cock hanging out as he gripped it one hand. He wasn’t even hard yet and it was massive. You bit your lower lip, reading the next message.
“Let me come pound your pussy out before I go to work.”
You knew as soon as you said okay that it was over with. He’d come fuck you and you’d be moving back in with him that day. As toxic as this shit was you were addicted to him.
“Kiara is here.” You texted back watching as the bubbles came up almost immediately.
“Then you better be fucking quiet. I’ll be there in 10.”
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.
Warnings: Angst with Smut, Cheating, age gap (not explicitly stated), failing marriage, drinking, emotionally draining relationships, divorce discussion, possible power-dynamic? Leering, Cock-warming, leaving spouse for affair partner.
It was mid October in the Outer Banks when you met Rafe Cameron. In your tight-knit sweater and black leggings that hugged your hips too tight. You missed the way his eyes dropped when you walked past him, too enthusiastic about the new job.
“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Cameron.” you said, looking around the expensive living room. His eyes lingered on your ass, meeting your younger ones when you turned around. “Please, call me Rafe.” he smiles, holding a hand out for you to shake.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
Fall came and went, as did you in the Cameron home. Sofia, Rafe’s wife, gave you tight-lipped smiles and let you stay for dinner most nights.
To your surprise, you fit in with the family. Lorelei, 5, and Inez, 18 months, were well behaved. They latched onto you quicker than anyone expected, and demanded your attention with every little thing.
Sofia trusted you enough to care for her children, but she kept an emotional wall up. Your happy-go-lucky approach to life left her feeling jaded, that she’d lost a spark only a young woman can have. It grated her at times, wishing she could just form an opinion on you and keep it. You hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing worth this feeling. But every time you put her at ease, left an open invitation for connection, there was a voice in the back of her head whispering, “not yet.”
Ironically, Sofia missed the signs in the beginning. She thought it was innocent, felt relieved even. She knew Rafe was a hard man to please, so not having to deal with complaints of childcare lifted a weight off her shoulders. But there were still times she felt her gut clench at the thought of Rafe’s behavior. The way he interacted with you raised flags. She couldn’t tell if those flags were red or yellow, thus pushing it down and carrying on.
But to an outsider, one would easily spot Sofia’s fears becoming a reality.
It began with eyes. Rafe’s meeting yours before Sofia’s when he returned home. How the two of you stared at each other from across the dinner table while she focused on the kids. Things furthered with lingering touches. His hands grazing your hip instead of your back when he slid past you. Or how he threw you over his shoulder, twirling while you stayed limp, just to make the kids laugh.
Sofia had become busy with work, leaving that voice to drown with upcoming projects and meetings. She started coming home later, worn out and uninterested in small talk. Dinners decreased, leaving you to pick up the burden of her family. Your initial two days a week became five, but you didn’t mind.
It left you with him.
That’s when Rafe really paid attention to you. He’d watch how you cradle his children, as if you were their mother. Your maternity permeated his thoughts, dragging up a primal attraction he hadn’t felt in a long time. And the nights his wife was late, you had dinner ready, with his plate made and on the table.
Life was steady, quiet and peaceful. For you.
But with seasons fleeting and arguments behind closed doors, Rafe and Sofia grew distant. He stopped kissing her, she didn’t hug him anymore, everything about their relationship became a show. A responsibility they shared for the sake of their kids and his image.
He stopped initiating intimacy and she started frequenting upscale restaurants for ‘business dinners.’ By December, Sofia was taking work trips with her boss. She’d be gone for weeks at a time, only making short calls to check on things.
Rafe had his suspicions, but he kept a cool facade and a glass in his hand. Drinking kept his anger away, at least enough for him to not destroy everything. He’d get tipsy and flirt, then wasted and fuck, but the one night stands never relieved him. Part of him even felt worse at having to walk away from those women too. Then he turned to you, confiding his dying love for his wife, and his empty sex life.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
Your first serious conversation with Rafe ended in his bed. Sheets twisted, a bottle of whiskey, and his arm around your waist. Neither of you addressed it that following morning, beyond you telling him it would never happen again.
But it did. A lot.
Sofia, when she was home, pretended not to see it.
She didn’t question the faint, purple bruises on Rafe’s neck. Nor did she pull you aside to ask why you looked like you’d been crying. On the surface, her trust in Rafe was naive, as her ignorance bliss.
Another sad story of the wife and the hot babysitter.
And Sofia knew it.
The reason she kept quiet was because she wasn’t a saint either. Not when her boss held her in his arms the same way Rafe held you. Her quiet phone calls, the new password, expensive jewelry Rafe knows he didn’t buy. It all slowly sank in over time, then it settled like a dust cloud of acquiescence. A loveless marriage faded into a roommate situation. Where staying for the kids felt better than just signing papers.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
You walk downstairs as Rafe is pulling off his tie. He undoes the first two buttons of his white dress shirt, sighing in relief to finally have a break. “How was work?” you ask, holding his youngest, Inez, who sleepily rests her head on your shoulder. Rafe’s eyes soften at the scene, his stress easing at the sight of his baby girl.
“It was a lot of bullshit.” he says, running a gentle hand down his daughter’s back. “Language.” you correct, twirling a curl on her head around your finger. “Yeah, sorry.” He mumbles halfheartedly. His eyes meet yours, looking heavy with faint dark circles. He’s been tossing and turning these past few nights. You’ve felt it.
“Were they good?” he asks.
“Always.” you answer, looking upstairs as his eldest crosses your mind. “Lorelei is taking a nap. She fell asleep while watching Frozen.” Rafe huffs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “That girl doesn’t give my ear a break when it comes to that movie.” he complains fondly.
The corners of your lips curl, “I made dinner.” you remember.
“I’m hungry for somethin’ else.” Rafe smirks, kissing your forehead before giving Inez one last look. For a moment his face freezes with guilt. She doesn’t know. Not yet.
You ascend the stairs with him behind you now, both of you taking opposite directions so you can put the toddler down for bed and he can have a glass of bourbon.
Minutes pass like hours while your mind conjures up what words the walls will capture. Which secrets the mattress will hold onto this time. If he’ll open up or resist you knowing him again.
Rafe’s own brain is tormenting him in the other room. It’s why he grabbed a glass and poured his problems into it, in a pathetic attempt to drown the other problems.
His nearly nonexistent marriage.
His affair with the babysitter.
His miserable job taking, taking, and taking.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
Rafe groans quietly when you sink down onto his cock. His body relaxes back into the couch, hands holding your hips as you adjust to his size. “Y’feel so good.” his rough fingers slip under your shirt, dragging up your back. A soft moan slips past your lips, head finding a place on his shoulder as you get comfortable.
The two of you enjoy each other’s closeness before he admits, “This is all I look forward to anymore.”
Lifting your head, your eyes meet his. His shade of blue is glassy like the ocean, and dark with shame. You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Part of you is thrilled, of course, feeling a sense of sick accomplishment. Buried deep under, however, is a smaller, yet more powerful sense of pity. “Is that so?”
He nods, “Yeah.” is all he says. You sit there quietly for a moment, considering the weight behind his lighter words. But Rafe doesn’t notice. He’s already leaning back with his eyes closed. The tension in his body releases with a slow exhale, his fingers pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so good with them.” he begins quietly, “The kids… they love you.”
“Don’t, Rafe.” you shake your head, shutting down the conversation he’s been trying to have for a week now. A small ache settles in your chest, while your stomach clenches with anticipation. Things are never meant to go so far in affairs. You know that.
But then his eyes crack open, his face remains unchanged and his voice hums low.
“I think I’m gonna leave her.”
a/n: i condensed what probably could’ve been a mini-series into a oneshot, which is why it’s jumpy with the timeline.. could’ve been better but at least i made something! i hope you enjoyed my first dilf!rafe fic :)
c!w; mdni !! these are twitter links that contain porn videos.
for the link to work you'll have to be logged onto twitter / to have the app otherwise it'll come up with an error. please let me know if any of the links stop working / the twitter account having posted the link has been taken down !
𝜗𝜚 size kink bulge
𝜗𝜚 anal in the backseat
𝜗𝜚 rafe playing with bunny!reader's pussy
𝜗𝜚 rafe eating you out (looks scarily like drew actually)
𝜗𝜚 overstim with rafe's fingers
𝜗𝜚 rafe taking his anger out on you on the couch
𝜗𝜚 being his fuckdoll
𝜗𝜚 older!rafe sucking on your tits
𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you deep into the ground
𝜗𝜚 sitting on his face
𝜗𝜚 rafe hitting it from behind
𝜗𝜚 sub!rafe
𝜗𝜚 soft!kook!reader getting fucked in her matching set
𝜗𝜚 reverse cowgirl while frat!rafe plays video games
𝜗𝜚 rafe fingering you during anal
𝜗𝜚 playing with your pussy while you're tied up
𝜗𝜚 bouncing you on his cock in a miniskirt
𝜗𝜚 beefy!rafe holding your hips and fucking you on his cock
𝜗𝜚 creampie while you're on top
𝜗𝜚 squirting around rafe's cock
𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you rough
𝜗𝜚 rafe thrusting into your pussy hard
𝜗𝜚 making you squirt with his fingers
𝜗𝜚 creamy breeding kink
𝜗𝜚 rafe cumming inside you then eating you out
𝜗𝜚 holding your hands down on your back while fucking you
𝜗𝜚 size kink & teasing you
𝜗𝜚 professor!rafe & student!reader
𝜗𝜚 squirting mixed with cum
𝜗𝜚 stretching your tiny hole with rafe's huge cock
𝜗𝜚 another round with rafe before bed
𝜗𝜚 making you shake from just rafe's fingers
𝜗𝜚 rafe loves teasing & fingering your pussy slowly
𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you feral
𝜗𝜚 playing with your folds before sliding it in
𝜗𝜚 somno with rafe (fake)
𝜗𝜚 rafe drilling his cock into your pussy
𝜗𝜚 rafe teasing your pussy before fucking you
𝜗𝜚 dilf!rafe stretching you out
𝜗𝜚 cumming inside you while you still bounce on it
𝜗𝜚 rafe pistoning his cock into your weeping hole
𝜗𝜚 dilf!rafe fucking you first thing in the morning
description: you seduce your long time crush into sleeping with you, your dads bsf, rafe cameron.
includes: dads bsf, age gap, unprotected sex, p in v
wc: 3,055
now playing - angel by massive attack (instrumental)
The tension between you and Rafe had been building for what felt like forever. It started innocently enough, with him helping you fix your form in golf, your breast "accidentally" brushing against his chest when you brushed past him, the way you'd catch him watching you walk away in those tiny little shorts.
Rafe was your dad's best friend, a man who'd been in and out of your life since you were young. You always had a crush on him, missing the days he would pick you up on Friday’s after school, taking you to lunch. After freshman year of high school he became more busy and those days eventually stopped. With you two growing apart, yet your little school girl crush never seemed to go away, and he seemed to never notice. But over the past couple summers, something had shifted. You were no longer the teenager he remembered, and he then seemed to be noticing.
This month he had come to stay the week over. On the first day, you'd worn a particularly revealing bikini by the pool, making sure to apply sunscreen slowly and deliberately while he watched from the patio. You'd seen the way his jaw tightened, how he'd quickly look away when your dad glanced over.
Yesterday, you'd "forgotten" to grab clothes to leave out after your shower, walking to your room in just a towel wrapped loosely around your body, making sure to go the long way, the hall you’d know he’d walk past. You'd heard his sharp intake of breath, the way he quickly turned around and mumbled something about checking on the grill.
But today was going to be different. Today, you had decided you were going to push all the boundaries. The morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows as you sat at the table with your dad and Rafe. You were wearing a simple white sundress with nothing underneath, a fact that only you knew. Your dad was rambling about some work thing, completely oblivious to the tension.
You pulled out your phone under the table, pretending to check messages as you sent him a video of you last night, touching yourself. Making sure to include just enough of your face for him to recognize it was you. Your heart was pounding as you hit send, watching Rafe's phone buzz on the table beside his coffee mug.
He picked it up casually, expecting a normal notification. You watched as his eyes widened, his fist squeezing his fork. A flush crept up his neck as he quickly locked his phone, placing it face down on the table.
"Everything okay, Rafe?" your dad asked, noticing his friend's strange reaction. "Fine," Rafe muttered, his voice slightly hoarse. "Just some spam." You suppressed a smile, taking a slow sip of your juice as you watched him try to compose himself. Throughout breakfast, you caught his eyes on you multiple times, each time filled with a mixture of shock, confusion, and something else, something darker.
The day passed in a blur. You could feel Rafe's eyes on you whenever you were in the same room, but he kept his distance, clearly trying to process what you'd done. That evening, as you were getting ready for bed, you heard your door open. You turned around, expecting your dad.
But the door opened to reveal Rafe, his expression serious. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Lock your door," he said, his voice low and intense. "We’re going to talk about the text you sent this morning." Your heart raced as you complied, the soft click of the lock echoing in the room. When you turned back around, Rafe was standing in the middle of your room, his arms crossed over his chest.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, his eyes fixed on you. "Sending something like that when your dad was right there?" "I was thinking I wanted your attention," you replied, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. "And it looks like I got it." Rafe ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "This is inappropriate, you know that, right? I'm your dad's best friend. I've known you since you were a kid."
"I'm not a kid anymore," you stated, leaning back on your elbows, your dress riding up slightly. "And I think you've noticed." His eyes dropped to where the hem of your dress had risen, exposing more of your thighs, before quickly looking away. "This needs to stop. Whatever game you're playing." he says, taking a step towards you.
"Who says it's a game?" you interrupted, your legs over the side of the bed. You slowly raised one foot, placing it against his chest to stop him from taking another step. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your sole. Rafe's breath hitched, his hands coming up to grip your ankle, though he made no move to push you away. "You need to stop," he commanded, though his voice had lost some of its conviction. "Or what?" you challenged, your foot trailing down his body, over his stomach, until it rested against the growing bulge in his pants. "You'll tell my dad? About how his best friend can't stop eye fucking his daughter?"
“Yeah…” you said, humming, “I see the way you look at me… well, my body.” you add with a smile. Rafe's grip on your ankle tightened, his eyes darkening with desire. "What do you want out of this, huh? What do you gain?" "You." you whispered, your foot rubbing against him through his pants. “Stop,” he warned. You smiled, looking up at him, “I know you want this.” you stated, sweetly. "I can't believe you're doing this," Rafe sighed, his voice tight, his eyes fixed on the floor as if looking at you was physically painful. "Get your foot off me. Now."
"I'm not doing anything," you replied softly, keeping your foot pressed firmly against the hard line of him. "I'm just sitting here. You're the one standing in my room." "I came to tell you to stop," he snapped, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "To tell you that video. it was a mistake. And you need to fucking behave." he yelled, throwing your foot off of him.
"Yet you watched it," you countered, tilting your head, letting the silence stretch. "And you didn't delete it. I saw you lock your phone, but I didn't see you delete it. You kept it." Rafe took a sharp step back, breaking the contact, running a hand over his face. "I didn't delete it because I was in shock. Because your father was sitting right there. Do you have any idea how close I came to losing my shit on you at the table?"
"Did you?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Lose your mind, I mean. Or did you just sit there thinking about what I was doing? About how I looked?" "Stop it," he warned, pointing a finger at you. "You are playing a sick game. I am your father's best friend. I’ve watched you grow up. I’m not... I’m not some guy you can flirt with, I'm practically your uncle."
"I'm not flirting," you admitted, standing up slowly. Your eyes on him as you watch his breath hitch, his eyes instinctively tracking the movement of your body, the way your white dress clinged to you tight. "I'm telling you the truth. I don't want some guy. I want you."
"Just, stop–fuck," he said, his voice rough, turning away from you to pace the small space of the room. You laughed, a low, dry sound, walking over to him, grabbing his jaw to turn towards your face. He stopped pacing. He turned slowly, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the exposed skin of your thighs.
"You're making this impossible," he gritted out. "Good," you whispered, taking a step toward him. He didn't retreat, but his body went rigid, every muscle coiled tight. "I want you to stop pretending you don't want this too. I saw you watching me by the pool. I felt you tense up when I walked past you in the hall. You think I don’t notice?"
"I can't," he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as if in pain. "I’m twice your age." "I don’t care," you said, taking his hand in yours, bringing it down to your stomach. “I watched you grow up.” he whispered, voice ruined. “Rafe.” you said, as you brought his hand lower, dipping it under your dress for him to feel, feel how you had nothing under. “Shit.” he murmured, dropping his forehead down to yours.
With a groan, Rafe gave in, your hands pulling his face closer to yours. He leaned down, his warm breath fanning across your lips. You kissed him softly, light. With it only lasting about 30 seconds until he felt his consciousness slowly creep back in. He started to pull back, shaking his head, “No, no.” he whispered lightly. Your arms stayed wrapped around his neck, pulling him in again. Kissing him harder, as your other hand trailed down, palming him through his pants.
Rafe’s head dropped forward, his mouth open. “Fuck,” he breathed out. You continued touching him, through the fabric. And finally he kissed you hard, all the pent up tension of the past few days finally breaking free. Rafe's lips moved against yours with a need that matched your own, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hands roamed your body.
He walked the two of you back until you felt the bed hit the back of your knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck again, pulling him down with you onto the bed as the kiss deepened. His hands found their way under your dress, touching your bare skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. "God, you're not wearing anything under this," he groaned against your lips, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip.
"I told you I wasn't a kid anymore," you replied, arching into his touch. He helped you slowly peel your dress off, watching you. "Fuck," he breathed, his gaze lingering on your breasts before moving down to the wetness between your thighs. "You're perfect." His voice was wrecked. When his fingers found your wetness, you arched off the bed, a whine of pleasure escaping your lips. He teased you mercilessly, his fingers circling your clit without quite touching it, driving you wild with need.
"Rafe, please," you begged, your hands fisting in the sheets. "Please what?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to torture you. "Tell me what you want." he said, softly. "You," you gasped. "I want you." That was all he needed to hear before he quickly tore his own clothes off, body lean and muscular. Your gaze trailed down to him. Mouth watering at the sight of him, thick and hard, already leaking with precum.
He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes locked with yours as he slowly entered you. You both groaned at the sensation, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely. Rafe's mouth found yours again, kissing you, biting the bottom of your lip. You whined, in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut. As his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper. You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own.
“God," Rafe groaned, as he pushed frantically into you, moving in and out of you relentlessly. He looked down at you, firmly holding your jaw “Open your eyes baby.” he said, increasing his speed. You bit down on your lip, brows furrowed in pleasure. “Look at me.” he said, harshly, pulling your bottom lip open. You opened your eyes, while he leaned down to kiss you, his other hand working on your breast.
Fuck, you looked so hot like this he thought, hitting places you never felt before. Crying out in pleasure. But you wanted to feel him more, feel all of him. You pushed lightly at his chest, his thrusts slowing a bit in confusion. You breathed out heavily, moving over, pushing him against the bed. He watched you intensely as you climbed over him, slowly sinking yourself down onto him.
A groan tore from Rafe's throat, his head falling back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut. The sensation of taking him in this way, of controlling the depth and the speed, was overwhelming. You threw your head back, a moan escaping your lips as you adjusted to his size, feeling every inch of him stretching you, filling you completely.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The feeling was too intense, too much. But it didn't last long. You started to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips in a circular motion that had Rafe's hands tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. Then, faster. Rafe's hips bucked up to meet you, his restraint gone. He was no longer trying to hold back, no longer trying to be careful. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, gripping you tightly, helping you lift and slam down on him with every thrust.
You could feel the pressure building inside you, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to spill over. But you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. You moved faster, harder, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Rafe's hands moved to your throat, squeezing light, his thumbs pressing gently against your pulse point.
His body tensed beneath you, his hips stuttering. You knew what was coming. You could feel it in the way his hands gripped you, in the way his breath hitched in his throat. He was close. Too close. He tried to speak, to warn you, but you silenced him with a kiss, your hips moving faster, harder, refusing to let him stop. You wanted this. You needed this. Needed to feel him.
With a groan that was half agony, half relief, Rafe grabbed your hips, pulling you down hard onto him as he thrust up one last time, burying himself as deep as he could. You felt his body tense, his muscles coiling before he came inside you, warm and deep. You cried out, your own orgasm ripping through you. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, as you both tried catching your breaths, broken gasps.
The room was now suffocatingly quiet, except for the harsh, uneven sound of Rafe's breathing as he scrambled away from you. He pulled out abruptly, the loss of him leaving a cold emptiness inside you. He didn't look at you. He couldn't. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to you, his head hanging between his hands as he ran his hands through his hair. His shoulders hunched.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough. You sat up slowly, the sheets wrapped around you now. You watched the muscles in his back tense and coil as he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips."I can't believe I did that," he spat, finally turning to look at you. His eyes were filled with a cold, hard regret. "I actually... inside you. Jesus Christ." He stood up, frantically gathering his clothes from the floor. "You have no idea what you've done. No idea."
"I know exactly what I did," you said, your voice calm, steady. You turned, lifting the sheets around you a bit, allowing him to see the red marks his hands had left on your hips, the evidence of what you had just done together. "And so do you." Rafe froze, his shirt clutched in his hand. He turned slowly, his face pale, sweat still drying on his forehead. His gaze swept over you, but this time there was no desire in it. Only anger. "You manipulated me," he accused, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You planned this. The video, the towel, everything." You looked at him as he watched you slowly put your clothes back on.
"I gave you what you wanted," you corrected, a small smile playing on your lips. Standing up slowly. You took a step toward him, and he instinctively took a step back, hitting the wall. "You wanted it just as much as I did. You just didn't have the guts to admit it until I forced your hand."
"This is a nightmare," he groaned, turning away again. "Your father... he's going to kill me. He's going to kill me, and then he's going to kill you. Do you understand that?"
"He doesn't have to know," you said. You reached out, tracing a finger down the spine of the man who had just fucked your brains out, feeling the tremors running through his body. "Nothing has to change."
Rafe spun around, yanking your hand away, his eyes with a mix of anger and desperation. "Nothing has to change? Are you insane? Everything has changed! I just.. I just fucked my best friend's daughter." He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "This isn’t happening again."
"Whatever you say." you replied, your voice flat, as you stepped into his personal space again, forcing him to look at you. Rafe stared at you, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. He looked like he wanted to shake you, to scream at you, to never look at you again. But he didn't move. He couldn't. He was trapped by the reality of what had just happened. By the fact that he had enjoyed it, that he had come inside you.
"What, you think I'm not serious?" he snapped, voice full. "Not by a long shot." you responded. His eyes widened in horror as the implication hit him. "What are you talking about? This never happened." he demanded, his voice cold, final. As Rafe turned to leave, he heard you, “See you at the barbeque next weekend.” you remarked, smiling. Rafe froze, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't turn around. He didn't answer. He just stood there, his shoulders stiff, before he yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room.
wrngs: angst ( indicated by ✶ ), description of smut ( indicated by ᯓ ) under the emotional prospective, headcanons, mention of
drugs,
season 1
Positions & Conditions : mostly and majorly doggystyle, zero vanilla, zero aftercare, usually happening as a one night stand or at parties. Enjoys it raw and scoffs when you ask him if he perhaps has a condom.
✶ A lot of internal and repressed anger cause him to crave a position of power and control during intimacy, since vulnerability would’ve occurred and it would’ve been easier for him to handle. That’s because he’s releasing his mental tension through the relieving feeling of sex. Under all that roughness, the degrading and the insults, there’s just silent suffering that throws him after the edge and the suffocating feeling of not having a light at the end of the tunnel.
✶ The roughness allows him to get high off of the adrenaline, that has almost the same effect of drugs. When in the morning, he’s lucid and his mouth his dry, the familiar feeling of rooted guilt and projected disappointment awaits to torture him from sun up to sun down, just to prove a point. They’re both unhealthy, his addictions, and do you blame him for being fucking insane?
✶ When he’s releasing roughly out of his system what had bothered him all week, taking it out on a random girl who’s name’s irrelevant and who’s way too drunk to avoid someone like him, all he tries to forget and break off is that guilt that doesn’t get near to ease but is only fueled by that toxic habit.
✶ Rafe’s addictions affect the way he connects with others and sexual intercourse for him is just a way to cope with his mental health instability. A desperate way to find connections and the slightest occasions of sympathy towards him . Also his way to be seen, like somehow people are gonna pay attention to him only when he’s sharing his body.
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season 2
Positions & Conditions :
Rafe escapes that frat boy lifestyle and attempts to introduce himself to a more serious love life. He still likes being in charge as it feeds his insanity and he still keeps his behavior really toxic, emotionally damaging and not lucid since he’s actually mentally unstable.
Still loyal to the doggystyle, even tho he like the missionary position since eye contact is stimulating enough for him to feel something. Zero vanilla but can give aftercare. His ego doesn’t let him give up the lead and be a switch.
ᯓ Kinks: breath play, chocking, bondage kink, spitting, enjoys cowgirl, tit play, words of affirmation, orgasm control , weapons play, consensual degrading, exhibition kink.
Very, very very jealous. His unstable personality causes him to fuck everything up, not considering consequences and giving up on his actions as regret devours him alive. So, as he’s rough, wants to hear you speak to him, validate him and feed into his possessive tendencies.
ᯓ “Tell me your mine, look at me” his eyes shush the hunger and feed the urge of dominance by taking in all of your expressions, the received dopamine flowing through his veins, messing up with his system.
✶ His obsessive thoughts and insane fixations make him target his sexual partners. Sex is just another addiction now and he find it heavily destabilizing. His mental health issues peaking as Rafe finds himself fitting weirdly in vulnerability, slowly experiencing something scary and deep during intimacy
✶ He doesn’t really cares about his sexual partner and he’s only there for his own pleasure. He’s deeply repulsed and frightened from relationships but he’s still capable of developing feelings for a sexual partner. If they show the slightest kind of affection or if they simply listen and pay attention to his presence and his needs .
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season 3 & 4
Positions & Conditions : finally gets into sane relationships, and god damn if he’s ready for the sex aspect. When he’s okay enough to get to know someone new, he’s ready to please and worship them. Absolutely loyal to aftercare, every single time now. Sex isn’t a coping mechanism, just pure enjoyment that needs to be cherished as much as possible. Rafe likes to be vanilla when the times right or when he’s feeling affectionate and romantic, but can completely switch up to being rough anytime he feels like it. Overstimulating you till you cry with a rentless pace that makes you roll your eyes, or doing it slow in the morning when both of you are tired. He tries not to be rough when he’s frustrated, but he knows you’ll take it anyway like a good bitch.
ᯓ Rafe looooves eating you out and has a thing for being between your legs all the time, every single chance he gets. Even if it’s just him laying down with you, trailing paths with his fingertips dangerously close to your inner thighs. Teasing and seeing how much he can play with you before you start begging. Kissing your throbbing folds like the tease he is, savoring the wetness even though the fabric of your shorts. He’s obsessed with the feeling of having your thighs glued around his head, back arched while you pull on his hair, grinding and shaking at the friction created by his mouth increases on your pussy.
ᯓ Has a vigorous preference for a nice missionary, seeing your face while he splits you up with his painfully hard dick does it well enough for him to finish every single time. This way, he can easily maneuver the way your legs prettily bend, how much he can touch you before you come, trembling desperately on his dick. Or just how easily he can reach new angles to make you scream and whine even better, cause he’d never deny himself the way you sound when you’re about to cum.
ᯓ He really loves cowgirl and as long as he’s fucking you, he’ll do what you say. Thats the way he’d learnt, listen to your needs to deserve your pussy. That squeezes painfully tight around his skin when he squeezes your breast or when he brings you down by your jaw for a kiss. Riding him and barely being able to speak, with how hard you’re grinding his swollen tip against your g spot.
✶ Rafe sobers up from the sick pressure of his dad’s judgment, turning him into a whole different person as grief distances him from distractions. After his growth is visible and his mental health stable, Rafe lives with his past and experiences different dynamics in sexual intimacy.
⚠️18+ | smut | p!links | fiction | fanfic | nsfw | very explicit! | unprotected sex | alcohol | drugs reference | adults | adult characters | sex
Important → This fanfic contains p!links and gifs along the story to demonstrate what the characters are doing😊
Rating: 18+/ Very Explicit!
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Notes⬇️:
Buzz cut rafe !
You're wearing this:
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It's a summer morning, the sun is already shining outside and a light and cool breeze coming from the sea swaws the curtains of Tannyhill's guest room where you spent the night. The sunlight streaming through the windows wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes and look around the room, at your body still dressed in your black strap-up summer dress with a slit in your leg, to your kitten heels on the floor and at your memories trying to remember what happened. Your brain finally wakes up completely and you remember clearly how you ended up at the Cameron's family house.
Clear images of you and your bestie getting ready at your house to go to a party hosted by Rafe Cameron at Thannyhill run trough your head. When his family is out of town he sometimes throws private parties there. Ward went to the Bahamas for some business meetings and Rose went with him to enjoy the luxuries of the family mansion there. Obviously they didn't trust Rafe to take care of Wheezie and Sarah has turned her back to the family since she joined the pogues so they took Wheezie with them.
To Rafe's parties only his trusted friends attend and sometimes he makes exceptions for friends of these trusted friends, that was exactly your case. The friend that you get ready with was friends with Topper and he was the one who invited you two to the party. Even though you don't like him very much your friend convinced you to go with her. You and Rafe have no relationship but you always thought he was hot so why not?
You remember you and your friend arriving to the party and starting socializing and drinking, after that you just have flashes of what happened instead of clear memories.
You drinking, people everywhere, you and your friend dancing, Rafe snorting drugs, Topper greeting you two, drinking more shots with a group of people, music, you kissing a random guy, you and your friend selfie moment, dance, Kelce, you talking to a kook girl...
You take your hands to your sleepy face and realize that you shouldn't have drunk so much. At least you didn’t do drugs, your never liked that. You start thinking about how you're going to get out of there, after all you're not friends with Rafe, you're alone at his house and you don't know if he or someone else is there.
You get out of bed, put on your kitten heels, fix your hair with your hands and suddenly you hear someone talking in the corridors. You open the room door slowly and you see Rafe entering his room talking with someone on the phone. You are embarrassed by the whole situation so you just want to leave without anyone seeing you.
You start going slowly down the stairs trying not to make any noise but you hear water falling from a shower that has just been turned on. That noise was coming from Rafe's room.
The desire for him took over you and without thinking you changed the route and went towards his room. Fortunately, the en-suite door isn't locked, you open it slowly. The sleeping area is empty, but through the slightly ajar bathroom door you can see that the light is on and the sound of just water falling has changed a little, now someone is clearly under it, taking a shower. You can't stop yourself, you're already heading towards the bathroom. You bring your face closer to the crack in the door and you saw Rafe on his back completely naked taking a shower, you can't stop your eyes from traveling from his wet muscular back to his bare ass.
A heat on your stomach starts to grow. You try to adjust your position to have a even better view but you go against a piece of furniture that was next to the door and a photo frame that was on the top of it fall to the floor. Rafe hears the noise and look back but didn't saw you.
You pick up the photo frame from the floor to put it back where it was without thinking that if you just leave immediately Rafe wouldn't probably caught you but unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, thats what happens. You only took a few steps from the furniture when you hear Rafe's voice "Hey! what your doing?" You turn around and don't know what to say, not only because of the panic but also because of the sight of Rafe only with a towel around his waist. You start to stutter "I... I was just seeing if, um, anyone was still here and…” fortunately, you don't have to finish the sentence that you didn’t even know how you would finish. "Oh, yeah, you probably don't even know how you ended up staying here" he interrupts, "yeah, I don't..." you mumble, still nervous. "You drank a lot and ended up falling asleep on the couch where you, Topper and your friends were playing truth or dare. We ended up taking you to bed…" he explained noticing you taking a quick look at the drops of water running down his heavy, muscular chest. “…you stayed there until the party was over and when they were leaving your friend just asked if you could stay here and you stayed... She was as drunk as, or even more than, you, so she probably didn't mean any harm, i guess..." He finished, clearing your mind and, this time, you notice him taking a quick look at the slit of your dress wich was exposing your leg. "Oh, thank you then, I shouldn't have drunk so much..." you say. "It's okay, it was a party that's kinda the point…” he responds. "Yeah, so, um, I'm leaving. Thank you once aga- Rafe interrupts you - "Wait, I can take you home you must have a hangover or something...". His interest in you has grown a little when he looked at your leg "No, it's not necessary, | live nearby so I'll walk home, thanks..." you immediately say. "Sure?" he asks "Yeah, see you around…" you reply already turning around to leave but he starts talking again "Wait! okay look…" you look at him again and he continues "... I'm tired of the flirting stage from last night, okay? So you actually want to leave?" he goes straight to the point and the words refuse to leave your mouth again "C'mon, I saw where your eyes went when we were talking" he says with a smirk on his face, you are about to say that you also saw where his went but he speaks before you get the chance "And I know you saw where mine went too..." he says walking towards you. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, your face to face and the heat on your stomach comes back stronger. "Yeah, I saw..." you say, returning the smirk, you're still a little nervous but just like when you hear the shower being turned on you can't control yourself... after all you always find him hot...
He starts looking at your lips and leaning his face closer to you, you do the same and you finally kiss. He grabs your waist, your bodies get closer, tongues tangled, both overwhelmed by desire. Rafe takes his head down and starts kissing your neck making you shiver. Head up again and he looks straight in your eyes "So do you still want to leave?" smirking again. "No, I don't…" you answer with no afraid this time returning the smirk. He places his finger on the strap of your dress and asks "Can I?", "Yeah" you nod. He pulls the straps down and lowers the dress to your waist, leaving your breasts exposed, you weren't wearing a bra with that dress. "Damn..." he says placing his hands on them and going back to kissing you. During one more passionate kiss he pushes the rest of your dress down leaving you just on your panties. He didn't stop the kiss to look but his hand go slowly from your breast… through your belly… until he reaches your intimate part over the wet fabrics. "Already so wet for me, baby?" You don't respond keeping the intense eye contact when he all of a sudden feels your hand touching his dick over the towel, he exhaled a breath wearing his playful smirk. He untucks the towel and opens it proudly. Your heartbeat gets even faster by the sight of Rafe's long and smooth hard dick. He notices your mesmerized face looking to his member. He lifts you chin and asks "You like that?" "Fuck yeah!" You answer, your eyes are giving away how horny you are and that look on your face it's driving Rafe's crazy. "Yeah?" He says smiling and guiding you to lie on bed.
He's on top of you while you're lying on his bed with your eyes closed, overwhelmed with all the sensations that his kisses on your neck are giving you, he goes down to your collarbone, and after that you just feel a wave of pleasure when his tongue revolves around your nipple and his fingers play with the other one.
Some minutes of this pleasure have passed and now he's letting soft kisses down your belly until he arrives to his desired destination, he looks at you and you nod in agreement. He takes off your panties and you love his starving face looking and going to your pussy.
The moment you feel his tongue on your clit you left out a soft moan, he keeps doing his work and you can't control your moans anymore, your gentle and soft moans fuel his desire and makes him doing it even more intensely. You've never been with someone who do oral sex better then him.
His tongue works as if he knows every corner of you and the little sucks on your clit make you feel and inexplicable pleasure. He's losing himself between your legs. As time passes you feel that you're reaching your climax "oh I'm gonna cum" He don't stop! "fuck I'm cunming!" You have an intense orgasm and when you look you down you see him coming up with his mouth and chin dripping your fluids.
On the bed, he gets on his knees in front of you and gives some strokes to his dick watching you catching your breath again and admiring your naked body. After a few seconds, your legs get natural around his waist when he leans forward rubbing his dick on your wet entrance by your fluids and his saliva.
You feel his big straight member entering you slowly. He grabs your face making you two look in each other’s eyes , he wants to see your face while you get filled by him. Your rosy cheeks and open mouth are now accompanied by a moan the moment he reached the bottom. He starts thrusting you and both of you are over the moon by that missionary. The room his filled with deep breaths, soft moans, heat, squelching sounds, pleasure...
"Ooh! You take me so well, baby! ah!" he says with a hoarse voice.
Yours fingers pressed into his back overwhelmed by the pleasure of his dick going back and forth on your entrance. Some minutes have passed and both of you are getting close, but he don't want the moment to end now. He stops and, taking the lead, guides you into other position.
He lays down on his back and lead you to his lap ready for 69. He’s once again loving eating you out and the feeling of your lips on his dick are better than he could have ever imagined.
Both of you lost in pleasure again... Both of you completely controlled by the heat and desire of the moment. Rafe stops and take a look at the view he has of you working on his dick, that drives him crazy to the point he just smiles tilting his head back on the cushion before go back to your pussy. All the sensations of pleasure in you are now mixed with the almost disbelief that your actually hooking up with Rafe Cameron. Even if he has a strong personality, everyone in town has a little crush on him and now here you are, doing with a lot o people out there want to do and seeing with a lot of people out there want to see
"Come here baby!" He asks. He seats in bed and you seat on top of him. He likes and usually prefers take the lead in bed but having a hot girl riding him is one of his favorite things. Everything just flows and you 2 have perfect chemistry. As time passes you ride him harder ravishing the 2 of you.
"Damn, you're fucking killing me." he moans. "It feels so good.." you whisper with a satisfaction voice.
None of you can't hold it anymore "oh ah fuck!!" You cum again and he feels a warm liquid on his dick, you keep riding him very slowly feeling the pleasure of your second orgasm and that pace was enough for him. "Ohhh I'm gonna cum, baby!!" You take his dick out of you and start to jerk him off until he reaches his peak. He releases his load and you guys are breathing heavily in front of each other.
He just picks the towel that was previously around his waist and give it to you so you can clean your hands and your intimate part. "You were amazing" he says with a hoarse voice still catching his breath. "Thanks..." you answered getting a little shy handing him the towel. "I'll get you some water" He says, finishing cleaning himself up and heading to get you some water butt naked. You pic up your panties from the floor and put them on. "Hey... are you ok?" Rafe arrives still naked with the glass of water, not expecting you would be dressing already "Yeah... thanks!" You take a sip of the water. "You want to cuddle a little?" You weren’t expecting that question from the tough guy Rafe Cameron so you take a few seconds to answer " ... um yeah, sure!" You smile. "Okay, come here" he smiles back at you and you both lay in his bed. He places a his arm around you and you lay your head on his chest. "So you’re really ok?" he asks "... you're a bit quiet" he completes. "Yeah, it's all fine! It's just like... I'm not super open with people I don't have a friendship or some type of relationship, you kow?" you explain "Well, I couldn't tell by what we just did" he jokes. "Rafe!" You saying while laughing.
"Sorry, sorry I'm joking! But you did it pretty good, baby girl!..." he nicely smiles at you saying that. "Thanks, you were perfect to!" You smile right back to him. "Oouuu perfect??" He jokes itching you. "Hahaha stop!" You agitatedly say. He stops and a heavy eye contact between you 2 happens. "We must repeat that.." he says tucking your hair behind your hear. "Definitely" you say with a smirk in your face, he reciprocates the facial expression and kisses you. You place your head back on his chest and you cuddle until the moment you leave and your lives get back to normality after that otherworldly moment...
Warnings: Dark fantasy, bloodplay, cowgirl position, rough sex, and self-harm/bloodletting.
Note: I feel like this is going to flop, but I posted it because I found the topic interesting. I wrote about this because I’m fascinated by succubus (yes, it’s weird), but I love the theme anyway.
Recommended music to listen to while reading: Cannibal - Kesha & Closer – Nine Inch Nails
There was a suffocating silence on that Tuesday night. For Rafe, it was absolute hell. He paced back and forth in his room, his fingers tapping restlessly against the side of his thigh. There were no parties happening, no trace of fun on the island, and to make matters worse, the cocaine was gone. He had already shaken the last plastic baggie three times just to find dust. Without the rush of the drug and with nowhere to go, his mind began to spin in that dangerous orbit of someone who is bored enough to do any stupid thing just to feel the blood rush through their veins.
That was when a random memory hammered into his head. The book.
He had found that bizarre thing weeks ago, during a boat trip with his father. Ward had anchored to handle business at a gray marina on the mainland, and Rafe, wanting to get away from the old man’s lecturing, went out for a walk alone at night. He ended up finding the book tossed near a wooden crate. There was no sense for it to be there, but what really hooked Rafe's attention was the warning carved in small print inside the back of the dark leather cover: "Once this book is opened, it shall be yours alone. You will not be able to burn, tear, or discard it." In that moment, it had made Rafe’s spine freeze.
Lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he remembered that as soon as he got home from that trip, simply threw the object into the middle of the mess in his nightstand drawer and tried to forget about it.
But the curiosity of withdrawal is a violent force.
Rafe stood up, went to the dresser, and opened the drawer with force. He rummaged through empty cigarette packs, lighters, and old papers until his fingers brushed the rough texture of the cover. The book was still there. He pulled it out and went back to the bed, feeling the cold weight of the paper in his hands.
As he flipped through the yellowed pages, a shiver ran up his neck. The book was purely ritualistic, filled with strange symbols, crooked writings, and macabre illustrations that looked like they were drawn in dried blood. He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes fixed on a double page spread that had a glaring title written across it.
The text promised to summon a succubus, a creature tied to sex. It said that if he followed the summoning ritual, the man would have all his desires and fetishes fulfilled by her.
The room seemed to grow even quieter. Rafe stared at the details of the page for a few seconds, his knuckles white from gripping the paper so tightly. For a moment, the image of that presence there with him felt too real. But the tension that had built up in his chest broke the moment he realized what the hell he was considering doing.
"How fucking stupid," he muttered to the empty walls.
He let out a dry, mocking laugh at himself, tossing the book hard onto the mattress, though his eyes remained fixed on the dark cover, thinking it was just complete nonsense written by some stupid person.
The minutes dragged by, the clock on the wall seeming to mock the silence of the room. Rafe kept staring at the dark cover of the book, static on the bed. Finally, he rolled eyes and let out a muffled curse, pissed off at himself. He knew he was going to do this shit. Deep down, from the second he laid hands on that rough cover, he knew his lack of anything to do was going to win over his common sense.
He pulled the book back onto his lap with force, opening it to the exact same page, and began to scan the instructions with a mixture of mockery and haste.
For the summoning to work, the text demanded a specific atmosphere, but with elements that, by pure bad luck or fate, he was able to gather right there. The ritual called for four lit candles to mark the cardinal directions of the room, ashes of something that once had life to purify the air, and the main thing: an offering of fresh blood and channeled desire, poured directly onto the central symbol printed on the yellowed sheet.
Rafe let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head.
"Alright, let's see if this fucking works," he grumbled, springing up.
He ransacked the house looking for what he needed. He came back to the room carrying four vanilla scented candles he had stolen from his stepmother's living room cabinet, the sweet, sickening smell probably wasn't what the hellish book had planned, but it was what he had. He scattered the candles in the four corners of the room, turned off the main light, and lit each one with his gold lighter. The flames began to dance, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls of the dark room.
For the ashes, he simply took the glass ashtray beside the bed and poured some of his own cigarette butts in a circle around the open book on the floor.
Only the blood was missing.
Rafe sat on his knees on the rug, right in front of the page showing the drawing of a female silhouette with demonic features and hollow eyes. He pulled out the switchblade he carried in his pants pocket, the blade clicking open in the silence of the room. He hesitated for only a second, looking at the gleaming metal under the dim candlelight. Then, he pressed the sharp tip against the pad of his left thumb, pulling slightly until he felt the sharp sting and the warmth of the cut.
A thick, red drop of blood began to well up from the cut. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting all of his frustration, withdrawal, and the dark desire to vanish from this reality guide the moment, exactly as the book asked.
Opening his eyes, he positioned his injured finger over the paper and let the drop fall right into the center of the ritualistic symbol.
The first five minutes passed in silence. Nothing happened. The flames of the vanilla candles kept burning slowly, the sweet smell mixed with tobacco filling the air, and the drop of blood on the paper looked like nothing more than a ridiculous, dark smudge. Rafe exhaled through his nose, letting out a loud, mocking laugh, feeling like the most pathetic guy on the whole island for falling for this joke.
But his laugh died in the next second. The candlelight flickered violently, almost going out completely before shining back up, now with a deep, reddish hue.
The darkness in the corner of the room seemed to detach itself from the wall. A silhouette took shape there, appearing out of nowhere, as if it had been camouflaged in the shadows the entire time. You stepped forward, revealing yourself under the trembling glow of the fire, and Rafe simply forgot how to breathe.
You were beautiful in a way that didn't seem human, bordering on the impossible. Your eyes had a golden, predatory glow, and your lips curved slightly as you tilted your head to the side, studying his features, his tense shoulders, and his rapid breathing. Slowly, you ran the tip of your tongue over your lower lip, like a hungry predator in front of a feast that had just been served.
"What the fuck is this!" Rafe exclaimed, his voice cracking.
The shock was so great that his instinct was to pull away immediately. He scrambled back along the carpet, his heels slipping until his back hit hard against the wooden side of the bed.
Before he could think of screaming or reaching for the switchblade he had dropped on the floor, you took another step toward him. Your movements were fluid, silent, and dangerously elegant.
"Why are you like this?" your voice echoed through the room, loaded with a magnetism that made his entire body tremble. "You were the one who called me, weren't you? So, now I am here."
Rafe tried to focus on any sign of danger, but his mind simply glitched. You were the exact embodiment of everything he had ever wanted, the kind of woman who inhabited his most feverish and secret thoughts. Every curve of your body, the exact tone of your skin under the red light, the shape of your lips, the curve of your thighs... everything seemed tailored for him, shaping itself perfectly to his deepest desires.
The wave of panic that had paralyzed Rafe just a few seconds ago began to melt away rapidly, replaced by a physical attraction so violent and primal that he could barely blink. The danger didn't matter anymore; he just wanted to get closer.
You crawled slowly across the carpet toward him, every movement exalting a silent predation. As you drew closer, the illusion of an ordinary girl began to dissolve: your eyes lost their golden hue and turned into a dense red, deep like fresh blood, and your skin radiated a suffocating heat, as if there were a fire burning beneath it. From where you were, you could hear and feel the uncontrolled thumping of the young man's heart, beating against his chest like a caged animal.
Drawing closer, you tilted your face and sniffed the curve of his neck, inhaling the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the cold sweat of nervousness. Moving slowly up his jawline, you gave a slow lick to the side of his face, sliding up to the tip of his ear.
A low, hoarse groan escaped Rafe's throat.
None of it made sense in his head. No girl on the island, in fact, no girl in the world had ever made him feel so absurdly vulnerable and exposed. You seemed to belong to another universe... and deep down, he knew you did.
"Hmm, Rafe... I can feel you," you whispered, your voice vibrating right against his ear.
The first thought that flashed through Rafe's fragmented mind was how the hell you knew his name if he hadn't said anything. But his paranoia was crushed by arousal; he didn't even bother to question it. If you were a demon, you probably knew absolutely everything about his life, every dirty secret and every weakness.
"But tell me why you summoned me," you continued, pulling back just enough to look at him, a provocative smile playing on your lips. "I don't believe you called me here to have tea and biscuits."
The sharp irony of your words took Rafe by surprise. He parted his lips, but his mind seemed to have forgotten how to formulate a coherent sentence.
"I... I don't know. I was just curious," he stammered, trying to regain the control he had clearly already lost.
As he spoke, Rafe’s eyes traveled down your entire body without any shame. You wore minimal clothing, scraps of dark fabric that barely covered the essentials, leaving almost all of your warm, curvy skin exposed under the red light of the candles.
"Don't give me that," you said, moving even closer, the heat of your body almost burning his. "I know you're needy. And I know I can help you with that. Since you called me here, don't make me regret it."
Rafe couldn't say a single word. He only nodded, completely hypnotized by the movement of your lips and the implicit promise in your words. He was yours, and both of you knew it.
The bulge in Rafe's jeans was already stark, hard, and impossible to ignore. You licked your lips once more, letting the hellish fire in your eyes burn even brighter in the dim light of the room. Without warning, you reached out your warm hand and squeezed his cock over his pants, gripping hard enough to make him jolt on the bed and let out a muffled curse through his teeth.
"This is what you need, fuck... and I'm going to give it to you," you said, your tone shifting between a dangerous playfulness and a brutally predatory promise.
In a fluid motion, you shifted your position on the rug, turning around to get on all fours right in front of him, your knees dug into the floor. Because of the proximity, Rafe’s face was aligned directly with the full curve of your ass, the minimal clothing leaving almost everything on display. He held his breath, his eyes completely fixed on you as your hands slid quickly down to his hips.
With a sharp tug, you unzipped his pants, the sound of the sliding metal echoing loudly in the quiet room.
Rafe threw his head back, hitting it against the mattress, his knuckles white from digging his nails into the messy sheets. He was completely surrendered, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he felt the intense heat of your hands make direct contact with his skin, pulling the fabric down to free what he wanted so badly.
The heat of your skin seemed to burn Rafe's palms when he finally broke the trance and moved in. He didn't know if he was having a withdrawal hallucination, if this shit was a dream or reality, but the lust running through his veins was the most violent thing he had ever felt in his life. He looked at you with a purely animal hunger.
In a sudden, desperate movement, his hands traveled up to your breasts, his fingers digging into your hot skin as he grabbed the thin fabric covering them and ripped it all at once. The sound of the tearing cloth only fueled the trail of destruction he wanted to leave.
Rafe threw himself forward, burying his face against your soft breasts. He began to suckle hard, his mouth hungry and heavy, his teeth scraping lightly against your nipples as he felt his own cock pulse painfully between your hands. He licked you as if you were a sweet, forbidden fruit, leaving a trail of hot spit running down your skin, sliding down your collarbone as he groaned muffledly against you, completely surrendered to the taste of the creature he had summoned.
In a swift, firm motion, you pushed him by his shoulders, throwing his body back against the mattress. On pure instinct, Rafe pulled his own shirt over his collar and tossed it into some corner of the room, leaving his bare chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He dug both hands into your waist, his fingers sinking into your warm skin. The view he had from down there, with you on top of him with your breasts fully exposed under the red glow of the candles, was an absolute delusion. This was a thousand times better, stronger, and more addictive than any drug he had ever put into his body in his entire life.
Keeping your eyes locked on his, you brought your hands down to your hips and began to slide your extremely thin panties down your legs, slowly, with absolutely no rush, until you threw them away. Now there was no barrier left between you.
"You're destroying me, fuck..." Rafe groaned slowly, his voice completely hoarse as he slid his hands up from your waist and squeezed your ass hard, pulling your body even closer to his.
The sound of desperation in his voice was music to your ears. Every inch of Rafe's body radiated a violent, raw, and needy lust, and you could feel that pure energy floating off him, entering your pores. It was feeding you, leaving you incredibly full of power and vitality, making the fire in your eyes burn even stronger as his mind completely lost itself in you.
You shifted your hips on top of him slowly, teasing, making it very clear how wet and soaked you already were, completely drenched and ready to receive him.
No further warning was needed. In a quick, steady motion, you pulled yourself up and came down with everything, sitting all at once on his cock. It was large, thick, and tore right in, making you roll your eyes in pure pleasure as you settled around it.
For Rafe, the sensation was mind-blowing. It was infinitely better than any porn magazine or stupid fantasy he had ever imagined in his life. You were too perfect, tight and warm in all the right ways.
He groaned loudly, throwing his head back, completely surrendered to the violent pleasure rushing through his entire body. You bit your lips hard, feeling his cock buried deep inside your cunt, filling every space as you began to dictate the rhythm.
"Let me devour you," you whispered, your voice coming out dragged as you began to ride his cock with force.
"What?" Rafe managed to stammer, his eyes half closed, his mind so clouded by lust that he could barely process the words.
"Let me devour you," you repeated, each syllable coming out paused as your mouth curved into a wicked smile.
You kept riding him like a slut, accelerating the movements. The friction of his thick cock made your cunt even wetter, squelching with every heavy down stroke. Rafe only nodded, completely hypnotized, without the slightest ability to understand the real meaning of that phrase. The arousal and dopamine were so high that he simply chose to let himself go completely.
Satisfied with his submission, though, in truth, you were going to do it anyway, barely caring if he said yes or no, you let your true nature emerge a bit more and revealed your teeth, now visibly sharper at the tips, like a predator's fangs.
Rafe, instead of being frightened, found that bizarre detail completely sexy. Seeing you losing yourself on his cock in that raw way stripped away the last bit of sanity he had. He lifted his hand and delivered a hard slap to your ass, the crack echoing loudly in the room.
That was the trigger. You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his, and sank your sharp teeth straight into the side of his neck. The tear in the skin made the hot, metallic taste of blood gush straight into your mouth. His taste was absolutely delicious, mixed with the vital energy you were already starting to drain straight from the source.
The taste of his blood was surprisingly sweet, almost addictive. You kept grinding your hips hard, moving your wet cunt and drooling all over that cock which was already completely soaked in wetness and sweat. The blood flowed continuously from his neck, leaving a hot, red trail that brought an absurd amount of pleasure both to you, who received the offering, and to him, who felt the pain mix with the lust.
Your eyes grew visibly redder, glowing like embers in the dark of the room. Rafe groaned loudly, his throat scratching, while his cock seemed to beg for mercy inside that hellish grip. He felt like a complete lunatic for wanting you so much, for enjoying that violence. In his head, the only certainty was that he never wanted you to let him go.
Rafe raised his trembling hands, his fingers burying into your hair and then sliding down to caress your tense shoulders, all while you continued to make him bleed. It was a bizarre scene, but conducted in a terribly erotic way. You loved it; you loved feeding on the essence of stupid, selfish men, and every drop of energy entering your body made you feel more and more full of power.
Usually, your protocol was simple: you used to kill them after sucking every last drop of life. But with this guy... Rafe was different somehow. His darkness matched yours.
You kept licking and smearing yourself on his neck, feeling his cock pulse heavy and frantic inside you. Slowly, you pulled your mouth away from the wounded skin, letting a string of blood mixed with your saliva drip directly onto his bare chest.
You didn't look like an ordinary woman anymore. You were in a state that was completely out of the ordinary, with a hungry, intense expression, a crazy, beautiful demon of a slut who had absolute control over the situation.
"I don't want this to end..." Rafe managed to grunt, his eyes fixed on yours as he watched you grow stronger and stronger, dictating a brutal rhythm on his cock. To him, you were the pinnacle of all existence.
Your hands traveled up to his face, palms pressing firmly against Rafe's mouth to muffle the groans that were already too loud. He didn't try to pull away or fight the command; he just accepted the weight of your palm, closing his eyes for a second and making it very clear, in every line of his tense body, that he would let you do absolutely whatever you wanted with him from then on.
Free to dictate the end of that feast, you began to ride even faster, coming down with full force to the base of his cock, setting a violent rhythm that made the wooden bed creak in the silence of the room. On pure instinct of survival and pleasure, Rafe's hands gripped the sides of your ass, his fingers sinking into your hot flesh to try to hold the impact of each descent.
You were endlessly greedy, sucking away not just his body, but every ounce of sanity and energy that still remained in that boy's mind.
The heat in the room was almost unbearable, the air heavy with lust, sweat, and the sweet smell of blood and vanilla. Rafe felt that violent wave rush up his spine, the clear sign that he was about to explode. In a desperate reflex, he reached up and grabbed your breasts hard, begging with his eyes for a relief that felt like it was going to break his body in half.
You smiled, finding amusement in that delicious urgency. Taking your hand off his mouth, you arched your back, propping your palms on the mattress behind you to give your hips more angle to ride with even more force and depth, feeling his cock scrape deep at the very bottom of your cunt.
"Please... make me cum, please..." he begged in a dragged whisper, his voice failing from how hoarse it was, his eyes almost rolling back with pleasure.
You only nodded slightly, with a look that promised to finish him off once and for all. Accelerating the rhythm even more, you began to slam down with full force, giving no mercy. Completely delusional and unable to hold back, Rafe’s hips began to thrust up with you on pure instinct, pushing his cock upward with each of your descents, trying to reach the very bottom of that sensation which felt like it was going to consume his soul entirely.
The groan that escaped Rafe’s throat was loud, torn, a sound he had never made in his life. All of that tough, unshakeable Figure Eight guy persona had been completely disintegrated; now, lying under your body, he was the one who looked like a surrendered little bitch, completely submissive to your control. The heat between your legs was absurd, and your clitoris, extremely swollen and hypersensitive, rubbed hard against his skin with every movement.
Feeling that he was at the absolute limit, Rafe gave one last violent thrust upward, slamming hard inside you. The sharp, heavy impact made your entire body shiver, his cock throbbing deep in your cunt as the release of pleasure finally overtook him.
His release came with everything. The hot cum shot hard inside, and the sensation was so intense that your cunt almost exploded, twitching repeatedly around his cock to suck up every last drop of that energy. Rafe’s pupils dilated to the extreme before he collapsed completely, his body going totally limp and relaxed against the mattress, his eyes half closed and his breathing heavy like someone who had been taken to the very limit of body and mind.
"Good boy," you whispered near his ear, your voice soft and loaded with satisfaction.
Looking down, you saw him like that: exhausted, helpless, and with his mind completely clear, free of paranoia or meds for the first time in months. You had done an impeccable job. In no rush to get off him, you leaned down slowly and left a gentle kiss on the young man's sweat damp cheek.
The soft touch was the final trigger for his exhausted body. Rafe simply closed his eyes and fell asleep right then, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep under the watchful eye of his demon.
reader with ex-husband!simon riley and fourth of july w/ the kids
idk i'm a day late but that photo in the middle is singing to me - [MDNI. cw: piv.]
"You're looking good, little yankee." Your ex-husband says to you in a horrible yet somehow sexy country accent, hopping out of his pickup truck. He tips his cowboy hat at your red, white, and blue outfit for the day. You eye him up and down. Even in a casual outfit of a white t-shirt and jeans that are too tight around his thighs, he still manages to look hot.
Stupid hot Brit.
You'd be lying to yourself if you said that the way you're dressed right now was not to spite him. You chose a matching set with a push-up bra just so your tits looked better in your top. You put a little more time in styling your hair today and makeup, just so he could get a tease of what he couldn't have anymore.
You shrug your shoulders, "I mean it's the Fourth. What else would I wear?" You fidget with the handle of your outdoor wagon, heavy with all the things the girls wanted in there along with bug spray, a picnic blanket, and portable fans.
Simon opens the door of his truck and your two little girls hop out, twinning in red and white gingham tops with jeans shorts and white shoes. You coo at their pigtails, clearly done by Simon but perfect for their hair type. He watches you greet them with sweet kisses to their cheeks. He notices the heavy outdoor wagon you're holding with one hand trying to greet them, and he silently takes it from you.
"Look it. All of my girls are red, white, and blue today." You squint at the way he puts you into his statement and not the twins alone. He smirks and walks closer to you, "behave today, for our girls and America, yeah?" You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Simon drags the wagon while taking the hand of one of your girls, Ayla, while you take the tiny hand of Kyra.
Finding some grass on the field for you all to sit on, Simon sets the picnic blanket onto the ground and gestures to you to make yourself comfortable first. By instinct, he sits next to you, placing a gentle hand on your back. You spot your twin girls playing with their bubble guns, giving you a chance to smack his hand away. "Don't even think that me being here means I want you. I'm here for our girls and to look at pretty fireworks, not to suck you off after."
He chuckles and takes off his cowboy hat, rubbing it against his chest in mock-hurt, "So mean to me, lovie." He frowns, "cause I'm British, huh?"
You roll your eyes. You know he's just teasing but this constant banter has continued even after your divorce. "It's too hot for this." You turn around and look in the wagon for a portable fan.
Luckily for Simon, he was given a perfect view of you on all fours looking for this portable fan. Your back arched slightly, your tits spilled a little out of your top, and your butt was perked perfectly to him. If it weren't for all these people here, he'd make use of your positioning here on this picnic blanket. All he needed was for you to stretch your torso a little further until...perfect.
Your bottoms lower slightly down your back but enough to let the red lace of your panties peek out and Simon feels himself grow harder by the second. Thankfully, his hat is more than big enough to cover his growing bulge. You're his ex-wife on paper, sure, but how can he forget all of the restless nights you shared while you're being an unintentional tease. You turn back around and start waving the fan around yourself, clueless about Simon's conflict.
To beat the awkward silence that you're both experiencing, you decide to stroke his ego a little, "their hair looks really good," you nod your head to the twin girls.
Simon's eyes light up at your compliment. He reclines himself a little, sitting now with his arms behind his back. "I'm glad you think so. They kept telling me 'only mommy does it good' until I was finished." He laughs recalling the scene of the girls sitting on his bathroom sink. Simon maneuvered their hair and the gel with tactical precision for the perfect pigtails and topped them off with American flag pigtail bows. He sighs before letting out a low, "I've mis--"
"Daddy!" The twin girls run in unison towards the both of you, bubble guns still in hand.
Ayla, a spitting image of you, speaks up, "when are the fireworks starting?"
Simon whips out his phone to check the time, "any minute, angel."
Kyra, who looks exactly like Simon, settles into your side and whispers a low, "I want Daddy to come with us after the fireworks."
You sighed because you hated that you wanted the same thing and all you could say was, "we'll see."
The fireworks finally started, making it Simon's cue to stand up and carry the girls in each arm so they could get the perfect view. You videoed them with the fireworks in the background.
After plenty of fireworks, the girls were finally tired and you walked back to Simon's truck, parked right next to your car. You stuck to Kyra's word and decided to ask Simon, "The girls want you to come back to my place." You pause, looking for any excuse for him to decline, "But you're probably on duty so I--"
"No." Simon shakes his head, cowboy hat on. "I'm a reservist right now. Don't worry." He crosses his arms and his forearms pump just a little but enough to make your legs clench. He walks closer to you and nudges you with his bicep, "Besides, don't think me saying yes means I want you. I'm coming for the girls, not to get sucked off after." He winks, slyly aware of his own remark.
It's going to be a long night.
Now in your house, which used to be the primary residence before the divorce, Simon changes out of his jeans into gym shorts. He spots you bent over the damned wagon again, but now in loungewear. He can't tell whether this wagon you bought was a blessing or curse.
Without any cowboy hat to hide his bulge now, he sucks it up and notifies you that he'll put the girls to bed. Not only because he's a good dad, but one more minute with you and he'll use that wagon to keep you situated as he bends you over in doggy. Bloody tease, he thinks to himself.
After putting the girls to bed, he passed the master bedroom that you two used to share. He walked in and thought it was missing something:
The both of you.
Before you could comprehend what was going on, your red lace panties were pulled to the side and your stomach was lying on that room's bed, abandoned for years until this moment.
You could feel Simon's torso sweat on your back as he pressed against you to slide in deeper. He settles his mouth by your ear, just where you like it. "You feel so good, mama." He finishes his statement off with a kiss to your temple. "Teasing me the whole day." He groans in pleasure and annoyance.
"Pretty red bra."
Thrust.
"Pretty red panties."
Thrust.
"My pretty woman." Thrust.
Your left hand clutches the mattress, while you triy whipping your right arm back towards Simon in an effort to push him off because it felt too good.
"Si," you mewled into the bed. "We're not using protec--"
He speaks roughly into your ear, now sensually sliding in and out. "You want a third one?" He lifts his torso off of your back, now using his hands to massage your lower back and hips as he keeps his tempo. "I'll come in this pretty little pussy right now. Get you pregnant. Say the word baby."
Two weeks later, an on-duty Simon in his office wasn't surprised when he got a text from you. A pregnancy test on a bathroom sink with a clean and clear "Pregnant" is attached, along with your text, I better not be popping out two babies this time.
Note: You guys are total pervs, but I love him too.
The heat in the room was almost suffocating, the only sound being the dull thud of your cosmetics and decorations hitting the floor as he lifted you up onto the wooden table. Rafe held your thighs with a strength you hadn't expected from him, his long fingers digging into your skin, keeping your legs wide open as he guided himself inside you. The fit was so deep that it ripped a sharp moan from your throat, causing your back to arch against the vanity mirror.
He seemed tense, the tops of his cheeks flushed in a way that blended pure horniness with that insecurity he could never fully hide. His eyes, behind his pale lashes, sought yours the entire time, dark and paranoid, hunting for any sign that he was doing something wrong.
"Am I doing good?"
His voice came out in a trembling whisper, almost a plea, as he delivered a firm thrust, filling you to the limit. His rhythm was a bit clumsy at first, dictated by the rush and the desperate fear of not satisfying you, but the pressure inside was so intense that it made your mind fog.
"Fuck, yes... keep going, Rafe."
Your command was the trigger. Hearing his own name coming out of your mouth in the middle of that desperate moan made the rest of his control vanish. Rafe leaned his body forward, pressing his hips harder, accelerating the thrusts in a subtly awkward but absurdly hot way. He was completely focused on the feeling of your tight, soaking wet pussy swallowing his dick with absolutely no protection, raw, with the urgency of someone who felt they were going to cum at any second and wanted to sink as far in as he could.
You gripped the edge of the vanity table, your fingers scratching the wood as your eyes rolled back. It was only when he pulled the collar of his own t-shirt with his teeth, biting the fabric to muffle a gasp, that you really noticed the contrast. Under the dim light of the lamp, his body revealed itself to be defined, the muscles in his arms and shoulders popping as he leaned into your weight to stay steady. It was almost unbelievable how that boy who spent his days hunched over books could have such a strong, delicious frame when he pinned you like that.
The wet sound of friction between your bodies began to echo through the room, the natural lubricant dripping warm down the inside of your thigh. Rafe looked down, seeing the damage he was doing, and a glimpse of shy pride crossed his face, though he was incredibly quiet, not knowing what to say in the face of such intensity.
When you brought your free hand down there, reaching your own clitoris and starting to massage the sensitive little spot in the middle of that wet mess, Rafe's chest rose and fell with a snap. That sight destroyed the rest of his shyness. His eyes locked onto your hand, the horniness exploding in his mind as he dug his fingers even deeper into your legs and began to fuck you with brute force, going all the way to the hilt, totally surrendered to the rhythm you dictated.
A sharp, breathless sound escaped his throat as your hips collided harder. Rafe whined, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he squeezed your thigh with a whiny urgency, acting almost like an obedient kitten begging for more, totally given over to the moment.
You felt like you were going to lose your mind. The sensation of having that absurdly hard, pulsing cock stretching your inner walls was almost too much to handle. Your pussy burned and throbbed with every thrust, completely filled by his size.
"Do you like it when I do this?"
He tried to keep his voice steady, risking a dirty tease, but his tone still carried that subtle edge of shyness that made him a thousand times more turned on. He was so desperate, so immersed in the heat of your body, that any shame was being swallowed by pure lust.
"Yes... you're fucking me so good, baby. Your dick is so big."
The words acted like fuel. Rafe closed his eyes tightly, absorbing the praise as a violent shiver ran all the way down his spine. Absolutely nothing in the world would be able to satisfy him more than that blind devotion, the indescribable pleasure of losing himself entirely inside your tight pussy, knowing he had total control over your every moan now.
"Come on, take this pussy."
The command came out of your mouth direct, raw, breaking the last thread of sanity Rafe was trying to hold onto. To punctuate the order, you lightly tapped your own clitoris with your fingertips, the wet slap echoing in the small space between you.
Rafe gasped out loud, his blue eyes widening slightly before darkening completely with lust. Seeing you like that, commanding the rhythm and acting like a dirty, hot girl who was totally aware of the power she held, made his chest ache from so much intensity. A knot of insecurity tightened his throat for a second, that paranoid thought that you were too good for him, that any guy on the island would line up to have you right there, on that table.
But you were his right now.
That glimpse of possessiveness mixed with the fear of losing you made his hips move with a renewed desperation, his dick pulsing even harder inside your canal as he tried to keep up with your dirtiness.
A violent tremor started at the base of your spine and spread through your thighs, making your legs go completely weak. Rafe noticed the change instantly; he was totally in the palm of your hand, attentive to every spasm of your body.
Your pussy reached the absolute limit of saturation. The climax came like an overwhelming wave, causing your inner walls to crush his dick so hard that you lost your breath. For the first time in your life, the orgasm was so intense that you squirted, a hot jet that gushed against his abdomen and waist, wetting the skin of both of you.
Rafe's eyes widened, completely amazed and in shock at the intensity of the scene. That destroyed any shred of shyness left in him. Instead of stopping, his horniness multiplied, and he kept hammering hard into your hyperventilating pussy, making you squirt even more with each deep thrust, coating his hands and the surface of the table.
Faced with that chaotic and absurdly hot sight, Rafe lost control completely. He let out a dragged moan, digging his fingers into your waist, and came deep inside you, pouring everything in raw.
When he finally pulled his dick out, the thick, white liquid began to slowly drip from your pussy, mixing with the trail of squirt that was already wiping down your legs. The scene in the room was pure wreckage; you were completely sticky and gooey, with his hips displaying the same wet mixture. The two of you just stayed there, panting, your bodies glistening with sweat and fluids under the dim light of the lamp.
in which i present to you rafe cameron x hypersexual!ditzy!reader headcannons!!
too many warnings to state them but lots of kinky things & not proofread.
hypersexual!reader who is absolutely insufferable about his hands, and not in a subtle way. she’ll stop mid sentence in a crowded room just to grab his wrist and examine his fingers like they’re a museum exhibit, turning them over and tracing the veins, murmuring “god, look at these.” under her breath while rafe tries to carry on a conversation with topper like his girlfriend isn’t openly ogling his knuckles. the obsession reaches a tipping point one lazy afternoon when she’s lying across his lap on the couch, supposedly napping, but instead she’s pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to his palm, his fingertips, the inside of his wrist. rafe lets her for a full minute, tension coiling in his gut, before he curls those same fingers under her chin and tilts her face up. “you got a problem?” he asks, voice already sandpaper rough. she blinks up at him, lip gloss smeared, and says with devastating sincerity, “just thinking about how good they feel inside me.” he has her bent over the arm of the couch within seconds, two fingers knuckle deep while she keens and babbles about how she knew they’d feel this perfect, she’s been thinking about it all day, and his hands are her favorite thing maybe ever. he makes her count each orgasm on those fingers after, holding them up, slick and shining, while she whines and loses track at three.
hypersexual!reader who talks during sex, genuine, unfiltered stream of consciousness rambling that should ruin the mood but somehow never does. he'll be balls deep, bottomed out inside of her, her back arching off the mattress, and she'll gasp out, "oh my god, wait, did i tell you what sarah said about the—oh—the party? she said kelce might not—right there, right there—bring a date and i said—" and rafe laughs against her neck, low and breathless, and says, "baby, baby. love you, but i swear to god i’m gonna need you to stop talking about kelce right now." and she'll blink up at him, dazed and flushed, and whisper, "m’ sorry. you just make my brain go all fuzzy." and then he's kissing her again because she's so unbelievably ridiculous and he puts up with it.
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of asking for the most unhinged things in the sweetest voice, like she's requesting a refill on her iced latte. they'll be lying in bed, post round one, her tracing patterns on his chest while he catches his breath, and she'll prop her chin on his sternum and say, "hey, rafey? can you choke me next time? like, not too hard, but hard enough that i feel it the next day?" and he just blinks at the ceiling for a solid five seconds before looking down at her with an expression somewhere between disbelief and desperate arousal. "you can't just say shit like that," he manages, voice wrecked, and she tilts her head like a confused kitten and says, "why not? you'd be so good at it! you've got such big hands." he has to take a moment. then he rolls her onto her back, wraps a careful palm around her throat, and watches her eyes flutter shut with a breathy little "finally." that makes him dizzy. she babbles through the whole thing about how safe she feels, how much she trusts him, how she knew he'd be perfect at this too, and afterward she's so blissed out she just curls into his side and murmurs, "told you," before passing out cold.
hypersexual!reader she has a habit of crawling into his lap during the most inconvenient moments, and rafe has stopped being surprised by it. movie night? she's sideways in his lap, legs hooked over the armrest, twirling her hair and whispering commentary about the film directly into his ear. family dinner at the camerons'? she's perched on his thigh like it's her assigned seat, passing him bread rolls and trailing her fingers up his forearm under the table until he has to excuse himself to adjust his pants. the worst, or best, depending on who's asking, is when he's on the phone with barry, pacing the driveway and trying to handle business, and she pads out in nothing but his button down, climbs onto his lap right there on the porch bench, and starts kissing his neck. "i'm on the phone," he mouths, but she just smiles against his pulse point and whispers, "i'll be quiet," in a tone that promises she absolutely will not. barry hangs up three minutes into rafe's increasingly distracted responses, and rafe doesn't even call him back.
hypersexual!reader who develops a pavlovian response to the sound of his belt unbuckling, which would be embarrassing if she had any shame left. it starts during a particularly tense fight that isn't really a fight, just him wound tight from a deal gone sideways, pacing his room like a caged animal, and she's perched on her knees on the bed trying to figure out how to help. he yanks his belt free in one sharp motion, more frustration than intent, and she just melts. visibly. pupils blowing wide, thighs pressing together, a tiny involuntary sound catching in her throat. he freezes, belt still in hand, looks at her with that slow, calculating head tilt, and pieces it together instantly. "oh, you like that?" his voice drops into something dark and curious, and she can only nod, glossy lips parted, completely caught. now he uses it against her constantly. will casually start loosening his belt in public just to watch her squirm, hooking his thumb in the leather with a half smirk while she completely loses her train of thought mid conversation. the first time he wraps it around his knuckles and uses the folded leather to tap her inner thigh, gentle, teasing. she makes a sound she's never made before, and he adds it to his mental arsenal.
hypersexual!reader who discovers a mirror kink by accident, or maybe not, because everything she does feels calculated in a way rafe is still learning to decode. they're in his bathroom, her freshly showered and perched on the marble counter in just a towel, him standing between her legs while she complains about having to move her nail appointment. he's half listening, more focused on the way her towel's slipping, when she glances at the mirror behind him and just stops talking. her eyes lock on their reflection, on the way his bare back looks, on her own post shower glow, and she breathes out a tiny "oh" that's all curiosity and zero shame. "wait," she says, pushing at his chest until he turns around, until she's facing the mirror with him pressed up behind her, "i wanna watch." and rafe gets so hard so fast he has to brace his hands on the counter. she watches herself with wide, greedy eyes the whole time, chattering away about how pretty they look together, how good he fills her up, how she wishes she could film it for later, and he comes harder than he has in weeks, face buried in her damp hair, rearranging his entire mental list of turn ons around this single moment. the mirror fogs up by the end, and she draws a little heart in the condensation with her fingertip, prints still smudged on the glass, and hums, "we should do that again tonight." and they do.
hypersexual!reader who gets it in her head that she wants to roleplay the classic "stranger at a bar" scenario, and rafe's initial reaction is a flat, unimpressed stare. "you want me to pretend i don't know you?" he says, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand, and she's already bouncing on her heels in a dress that barely covers her ass, nodding so fast her earrings jangle. "it'll be fun! you'll be all mysterious and broody—well, broodier—and i’ll be a ditzy little thing you pick up." he takes a long sip, eyes narrowing. "you are a ditzy little thing i picked up." she gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense, but her grin is pure trouble. "rafe! be meaner. pretend you don't like me yet." so he does. he slides onto the stool next to her with a cold, appraising look that sends a shiver down her spine, and orders a whiskey without breaking eye contact. she plays her part so well, twirling her hair, biting her glossed lip, asking if he comes here often in that breathy, clueless voice, that he almost forgets they've been together for months. by the time he's got her spawned out on the kitchen island, her legs on his shoulders and his name a wrecked chant on her lips, she's babbling about how he's so good at this, how she felt like she was cheating on him with him, and he just laughs against her throat, a low, surprised sound, and says, "you're batshit, you know that?" she hums, nails raking down his back.
hypersexual!reader who has a thing for waking him up with her mouth, which rafe discovers on a random tuesday when he blinks awake to find her already under the covers, working him over with the kind of lazy, unhurried dedication that says she's been at it for a while. "what the f—" he starts, voice wrecked with sleep, and she pops up from under the blanket like a daisy, hair a mess, lip gloss long gone, and beams at him. "morning baby. you just looked so pretty, i couldn't help myself." he stares at her, chest heaving, one hand fisting the sheets while his brain reboots, and she just ducks back down without waiting for a response. it becomes a thing after that, he never knows when he's gonna wake up to her mouth or her hands or her already sinking down onto him with a contented little sigh, murmuring about how she couldn't sleep and he felt so warm next to her and she just wanted to feel close. he starts going to bed earlier just to give her more time, not that he'd ever admit it. one morning she's so focused she doesn't notice he's awake until he's flipping them over and pinning her wrists, "my turn" against her throat, and she just giggles and spreads her legs wider and says, "finally! i was getting lonely up here."
hypersexual!reader who gets obsessed with the idea of being his "good girl" in the most literal sense, wants rules, wants praise, wants him to tell her exactly what to do and then reward her for doing it. rafe thinks it's ridiculous at first, this hyper feminine little thing asking him to "give her structure," but then she's kneeling on his bedroom floor with her hands folded in her lap, looking up at him with those big eyes, asking "how can i be good for you today?" and something in his brain short circuits. he starts small. she texts him her outfits for approval, asks permission before touching herself, waits for his nod before she orders at restaurants. and every time she follows a rule, she glows, preening under his muttered "good girl" like it's a standing ovation. the sex is unreal, she's so eager to please, so responsive to every command, melting into a puddle of breathless gratitude when he tells her she's taking him so well, she's being so perfect, she's the best girl. after, she's curled up against his side, tracing shapes on his chest, and she whispers, "do i get a gold star?" and he laughs so hard he pulls a muscle, then kisses her forehead and says, "i'll get you a whole sticker chart, baby."
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of saying the most unhinged shit mid bite of a salad, like her brain and mouth have zero filter between them. they're at lunch with sarah and john b, some tense double date thing rafe only agreed to because she asked, and she suddenly sets down her fork, tilts her head, and says to no one in particular, "i think i have an oral fixation. like, not just with food. with everything. rafey's fingers, his d—" and rafe chokes on his water so violently sarah has to thump him on the back. "what the fuck," he coughs, eyes watering, and she just blinks at him with genuine confusion like she forgot other people were at the table. "what? it's a real thing— i read about it." john b is staring at the ceiling like he's praying for death, sarah is bright red, and rafe is gripping the edge of the table with both hands, jaw tight, a vein ticking in his forehead. "we're leaving," he announces, throwing cash on the table, and she pouts the whole way to the car about how she was just trying to share, she thought they were all friends. he doesn't say a word until they're in the truck, and then he just turns to her with this wild, incredulous look and says, "you cannot say shit like that in front of my sister. ever. i fucking mean it." she crosses her arms, lower lip jutting out, and mutters, "fine. but you know i'm right." he drags a hand down his face, starts the engine, and doesn't speak for five full minutes. then, quieter "i know." and she beams.
hypersexual!reader who has a habit of absentmindedly touching herself while they watch movies, not even in a performative way, just idly slipping a hand between her thighs under the blanket while she’s curled against his side, eyes glued to the screen, breath hitching so subtly he almost doesn’t notice. the first time it happens, he glances down and sees the movement, the blanket shifting, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and he goes still. “are you serious right now?” he asks, voice a low rasp, and she turns to him with those big, startled eyes like she forgot he was there. “oh! m’ sorry, just felt good,” she pouts, completely unashamed, but starts to pull her hand away. he stops her, wrist caught in his grip, guiding it back where it was. “don’t stop. let me see.” after that, movie nights become a gamble, she’ll either fall asleep on his chest twenty minutes in or end up straddling him with the credits rolling, both of them too wrecked to remember what they watched.
first time writing little blurbs/headcanons (???) like this and i luv theyre so fun and cute. i have a really good rafe fic idea and i got inspo from a video i’d seen on twitter so im excited😫 but i also wanna write a fic for the 4th but sooo undecided on if i should do rafe, garrett or dean ughhegsgshsg help & send ideas!!!! kisses to u all<3
