wtf is that anon on? literally came on to tell you i miss seeing you on my dash and hope youâre doing good and i saw that wtf đ anyways donât listen youâre so well loved and my fave writer on here xxxx
Don't worry i couldnt be bothered. I dont care. Miss you toooo soo muchâĄâĄ
you should invest in a gun and blow your brains out i think me and literally everyone else thats had the displeasure of being around you would be sooooo much better off. when you die the skies are gonna be clear, the air crisp and fresh, birds are gonna start singing symphonies
Your ex calls you in middle of the night because he misses your pussy so much
Pairing:desparate ex!rafe cameron x reader
Summary: itâs been months since you last heard from Rafe until tonight. He calls you in the middle of the night, desperate and whiny, ranting about how no one else compares to you. How he misses you, your body, and the way you make him feel. You should hang up, but instead, you just listen, soaking in his frustration, his sufferin because, deep down, you love that heâs ruined without you.
Warnings: Toxic dynamics, heavy desperation, explicit sexual talk, emotional manipulation, ego-stroking, and Rafe being completely down bad.
You blink yourself awake, disoriented, the shrill ring of your phone pulling you from sleep. The room is dark, the only light coming from the screen, his name glowing against it like some kind of warning.
Rafe.
Your stomach twists, but you donât hesitate to answer. Itâs been months, and he hasnât calledânot once. Not until now.
The second you press the phone to your ear, you hear him. "Fuck, you actually picked up." His voice is rough, thick with something that almost sounds like desperation. If you didnât know him better, youâd think he was on the verge of crying. But Rafe doesnât cry. Not really. He just gets whiny when he doesnât get what he wants.
"What do you want?" Your voice is hoarse from sleep, but thereâs an amused lilt to it. Because whatever this is, itâs already entertaining.
"You." He breathes the word out like a confession. "Fuck, I miss you so bad."
Thereâs a shuffle on the other end, like heâs running a hand through his hair, maybe pacing. Then, his voice drops lower. "I miss your pussy."
You should hang up. You should be disgusted. But you donât, and youâre not. You just smile lazily, stretching against your sheets as you wait for him to keep going. Because he will.
"She was nothing like you," he mutters, like it physically pains him to admit it. "I thought maybeâfuck, maybe if I closed my eyes, itâd feel the same. But it didnât. It never fucking does."
Heâs rambling now, and you just listen, letting it all sink in. The regret, the desperation, the way his voice gets breathier like just the memory of you is enough to drive him crazy.
"Not one of them squeezes me the way you do," he groans. "None of them make me feel like you do. The way you take meâshit, you ruin me every time, you know that?"
You hum, running your fingers through your hair, completely unbothered. "That so?"
"Yeah," he says, exhaling sharply. "Miss your mouth, too. The way you taste. The way you fucking whimper when Iâ"
You cut him off with a laugh, your ego swelling with every word. Heâs pathetic. Absolutely fucking ruined. He can pretend all he wants that this is about sex, but you hear it. Itâs not just your body he missesâitâs you.
And maybe that shouldnât feel as good as it does. But, god, it does.
"Poor baby," you murmur mockingly. "Did you think you could replace me?"
He groans again, and you swear you hear his head hit the wall. "Donât do that. Donâtâfuck, donât talk to me like that. You know I canât take it."
"Then whyâd you call?"
Silence.
And thatâs your answer.
He just breathes for a second, heavy and uneven, before he finally admits it. "Because I need you."
You shift in bed, your smirk growing as his breathing gets heavier. Heâs unraveling, and you donât even have to say much. Just letting him talkâletting him sufferâis entertainment enough.
"Youâre so fucking mean," Rafe whines, his voice breathy and strained. "Sitting there all quiet, just listening to me lose my fucking mind."
Your eyes flutter shut as you grin to yourself, biting your lip. You can practically see himâprobably shirtless, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair, pacing around like a caged animal. Maybe even lying in bed, all restless and desperate, palming himself to the thought of you but getting nowhere.
"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you taunt, dragging his name out slow. "Youâre the one who called me. Youâre the one who canât stop thinking about me."
He groans, and itâs so needy you almost feel bad. Almost.
"I fucking hate it," he breathes out. "I hate that I canâtâI canât fucking get off anymore. Not since you."
Your stomach tightens, but you keep your voice calm. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he huffs. "Tried, yâknow? After you. Fucked every girl whoâd let me. Thought if I kept trying, if I just found the right one, maybe itâd feel the same." He scoffs, and thereâs an edge of anger in his voiceâanger at himself, at them, at you for doing this to him. "But it never fucking does."
You let the silence linger, dragging it out just to hear him squirm.
"She didnât even get me hard at first," he admits, and he sounds so frustrated, like he canât believe this is his reality. "Had to close my eyes and think about you. Had to fucking imagine it was your hand stroking me, your mouth on me."
Your chest swells with satisfaction, a delicious warmth curling in your stomach. "Poor thing," you mock softly, barely containing your amusement.
"Not funny," Rafe mutters, but thereâs a slight whimper at the end of his words, like he knows heâs at your mercy.
"Oh, but it is."
His breath shudders on the other end. "I miss it. I miss you."
Heâs breaking now, voice barely above a whisper, and you just soak it in.
"Miss how tight you are. How fucking good you feel wrapped around me. Nothingânothingâcompares. They donât squeeze me the way you do, donât pull me in like you. Like you never wanna let go."
You hum, dragging a hand down your stomach, not even touching yourselfâjust feeling the power you have over him. "Sounds frustrating."
"It is," he rushes out. "It fucking is, and I hate you for it. Hate that you ruined me for anyone else."
You giggle, and itâs so cruel.
"Guess you shouldâve thought of that before you lost me, huh?"
His breathing stutters. Then, barely audible: "I didnât lose you. Youâre still here."
You donât answer. You just listen to him breatheâragged, desperate, broken.
The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You can hear every shaky breath Rafe takes, every little sound he makes as he tries to hold himself together.
"Say something," he finally mutters, voice strained. "Anything."
You smirk to yourself, shifting lazily against your pillows. "Why?"
"Because I fucking need it."
The desperation in his voice is almost patheticâand god, you love it.
"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you hum, dragging his name out like youâre savoring it. "Want me to tell you I miss you too?"
He exhales sharply. "Yes."
You laugh softly, shaking your head even though he canât see it. "Thatâs not happening."
"Fuckâwhy are you like this?" he groans, and thereâs something so helpless in the way he says it. Like heâs actually suffering. Like it physically hurts him that youâre not giving in.
You donât say anything, just listening as he unravels.
"I think about you all the fucking time," he breathes. "Every time I try to fuck someone else, I canât evenâfuck, I canât even finish unless Iâm thinking about you."
Your stomach tightens, a rush of heat curling between your legs. Heâs so gone, so completely wrecked, and itâs all because of you.
"That bad, huh?" you tease, biting your lip.
"Worse," he mutters. "So much fucking worse."
You hear a rustling sound on the other end of the line, like heâs shifting, maybe palming himself through his boxers, so frustrated he doesnât know what to do with himself.
"I should make you beg," you say idly, stretching your arms above your head.
He groans, and you swear you hear the sound of his head hitting the pillow. "I fucking am."
You giggle, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. "Not enough."
Rafe whinesâactually whinesâand your stomach clenches.
"Please," he breathes out, and heâs so fucking gone. "Please, baby, talk to me. Say something. Anything. I justâfuck, I just need to hear your voice while Iâ"
He cuts himself off, but you know what he was about to say.
And god, you should hang up. You should. But instead, you smirk, shifting slightly in bed as you murmur, "Keep talking, Rafe."
I wanted to write a little note instead of just disappearing. Lately, writing has felt⌠quiet. The spark that used to come so naturally to me isnât really there right now, and I donât want to force something that doesnât feel true. It feels like something is missing, and I need to give myself space to figure out what that is. So for now, Iâve decided to take a break from writing. Not a goodbye just a pause. I truly hope that one day the spark finds its way back to me, and when it does, Iâd love nothing more than to continue sharing stories with you again. I may still pop in from time to time to post some leftover drafts Iâve saved over the year, little pieces of love Iâm not quite ready to let go of yet.
Thank you for being so kind, so patient, and for loving my writing the way you have. It has meant more to me than I can ever put into words. Please take care of yourselves, and I hope youâll still be here if and when I return. đ¤
Heâd disappeared. Just gone. Morocco, of all places. Sun-soaked photos from strangersâ stories, foreign streets you knew nothing about, nights you imagined him living without you. No explanation. No warning. Just absence. And youâd told yourself you wouldnât forgive him that easily.
But Rafe had always known how to find the soft spots.
Your phone buzzed late too late for casual conversation. His name lit up the screen like it always did, like it had never stopped having power over you.
You awake?
You stared at it longer than necessary. Let yourself remember how angry youâd been. How lonely. How much youâd needed him when he wasnât there.
Depends, you typed back. Why?
The reply came instantly, like heâd been hovering over the screen.
Because Iâve been thinking about you all night.
You closed your eyes. Of course he had. Of course heâd say that. He always knew exactly when to lean in, when to soften his voice even through text.
You just left, you replied. Didnât even tell me why.
There was a pause this time. Longer. Deliberate.
I know.
I messed up.
But you donât know how bad I wanted to hear your voice while I was gone.
You swallowed. That familiar pull twisted low in your chestanger mixing with want, pride fighting need. You hated how easily he unraveled you. Hated how much you missed him anyway.
I missed you, he added. Every second.
You shouldnât have smiled. You did.
He told you how empty his bed felt. How Morocco was loud and bright and meaningless without you. How everything felt off because you werenât there. And when he said he couldnât wait to come to fuck that little attitude out of you. You folded.
Iâm gonna ruin you when I get back, he wrote. Been thinking about it nonstop.
Your breath caught. You told yourself to slow it down. To make him work for it.
You donât get everything just because you want, you replied, fingers trembling slightly. You disappeared, remember?
âBaby,â he murmured, âyou know Iâll do whatever it takes.â
"Please just send me a picture, need to see you so bad. I just want to cum"
You leaned against the bathroom counter, the mirror fogged just enough to blur the edges. You told yourself it was just a picture. Just teasing. Nothing more. Something to remind him of what he left behind.
You sent it.
The response was instant.
Fuckkkk.
Another message followed before you could even set the phone down.
Gonna make me cum baby.
Your heart raced. You felt powerfull again. Like you had something he needed just as badly as you needed him.
Careful, you typed. Missing that?
Baby you have no idea, i just get hard thinking of that pretty pussy.
You stared at the screen, warmth spreading through you, anger melting into something heavier. You werenât ready to forgive him completely not yet, not just because his dick gets hard seeing you.
Rafe wasnât the kind of guy anyone would picture submissive. The Kook golden boy. The cocky smirk. The entitled son of Ward Cameron who thought he owned everything in sight.
But behind closed doors, when it was just you and him, it was different. Because sometimes â and only sometimes â he wanted you to take the reins. He wanted to give up that control he wore like armor, strip it off, and put it in your hands.
Tonight was one of those nights.
He was already sitting back against the pillows when you walked in, broad chest rising and falling, eyes darker than usual. His shirt was still on, damp hair falling across his forehead, and when you leaned against the doorframe with that look â that one that made him squirm â he already knew what kind of night it was going to be.
âShirt stays on,â you said simply.
âYes, Mommy,â he answered without hesitation, voice rougher than usual, like the word itself had weight in his throat.
You smirked, crossing the room slow, deliberate. Every step you took made his jaw flex, made his knuckles tighten where his fists curled in the sheets.
âHands,â you said, nodding toward the headboard.
He obeyed instantly, arms lifting above him, wrists crossing like youâd taught him. His biceps tensed against the fabric of his shirt, and he looked like he was trying to keep his breathing even. Already needy.
You climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, but not touching him. Not yet. Just close enough to make him ache.
âCan you touch me?â you asked, tilting your head, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.
His throat bobbed. âNo, Mommy.â
âCan you touch yourself?â
He shook his head, cheeks flushing the faintest pink. âNo.â
âThatâs right,â you hummed, dragging your nails down his chest over his shirt, making him hiss. âNot until I say so.â
The power shift was delicious â watching the arrogant, reckless boy turn into this, obedient and pliant under your touch. He didnât push, didnât argue, didnât roll his eyes. He just took what you gave him and waited for more.
You leaned down, lips brushing his ear, whispering, âBeg.â
He groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he forced them open again to look at you. âPlease, Mommy. Please, I just⌠I need you so bad. Iâll be good. Iâll do whatever you want.â
Your hand slid lower, skimming his stomach, stopping just above where he wanted you most. His hips bucked up involuntarily, but your palm pressed him down flat against the mattress.
âStill not your call,â you said, clucking your tongue.
Rafe whimpered. Actually whimpered. The same guy who barked at everyone else on the island was whining under you, lips parted, eyes glassy.
You kept him there like that, holding him down with barely any effort, forcing him to soak in the ache, the denial. Every time he shifted, you made him start over. Every time his breath stuttered, you pulled back. Drawing it out, stringing him along, making him beg again and again until the words tumbled out of him like confessions.
âPlease, Mommy, please touch me⌠Iâll be good, I swear. Please let me⌠please let me fuck you. Pleaseââ
You smiled slow, wicked, dragging your nails along his throat.
âNot yet,â you purred. âYou donât get to fuck me until I say so. And not a second before.â
Pairing: toxic!Rafe Cameron x sofias best friend!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, cheating/forbidden, rough sex, adult themes, explicit language, dominant rafe, stubborn reader, prolonged teasing, sexual tension,
You had always been a thorn in his side an impossible, gorgeous thorn that somehow made him want to both strangle and fuck you at the same time. And of course, you were Sofiaâs best friend, which only made everything worse. You were sharp, bitchy, and hot as hell, and every time you snapped at him, every sarcastic word or roll of your eyes, it got under his skin in a way he couldnât ignore.
Rafe had noticed it from the beginning the way you glared at him across the table when Sofia wasnât looking, the way your tone dripped venom at him, the way your body seemed to defy him while still making him hard as stone. And he loved it. He hated that he loved it, but he did. Every match of fire, every verbal jab, made him harder, made him crave you more, made him imagine what it would be like to finally have you, just you, with nobody elseâs rules to worry about.
Tonight, he had been watching you from across the living room, pretending to be indifferent as you laughed a little too loud with Sofia and the others, hair perfectly falling into place, hips swaying as you walked. But he knew. He always knew. That sharp confidence, that subtle arrogance you carried, it was meant to test him and it did. Every glance, every smirk directed at him felt like a dare, and every time, he took the dare in his head, over and over, imagining you in ways he absolutely shouldnât.
Hours later, after the group had filtered out and the house had quieted, he found you alone.
âYou really think Iâd let you walk out of here without me?â he murmured, stepping into the space between you and the door.
You crossed your arms, jaw tight. âYou can try, Cameron,â you snapped, though your voice was shaky, betraying the heat that was already creeping through you.
That little defiance, that fire you always carried, it only fueled him more. He leaned closer, the scent of him making your knees weak despite your bravado. âYouâre⌠so fucking hot when you try to be hard to get,â he muttered low, voice rough and dangerous.
Your lips parted, a breath catching in your throat. âDonâtâdonât even thinkââ
But you couldnât finish. Because before you knew it, his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His chest pressed to yours, his lips finding your neck first, nipping and teasing. You gasped, jerking slightly, trying to push him away but he caught your wrists effortlessly, holding them above your head against the wall.
âYou donât get to tease me and then act like you get a say,â he growled, and the tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. âNot tonight.â
And then, in a flash, his hands roamed with intent, grazing over your curves, teasing over your thighs, making you shiver and whine against him. He kissed you hard, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, and when you whimpered softly, half from desire and half from frustration, he chuckled darkly.
âYouâre so angry⌠and so fucking hotâ he said, voice low, teasing, filled with hunger. âItâs like youâve been waiting for this too.â
âIâwhat?â you stammered, cheeks burning, trying to keep some semblance of composure. But it was gone vanished the moment he pushed his hand between your legs, pressing just right, and you gasped, heat pooling deep.
Rafe grinned, almost proud. âSee? I knew it.â
The rest of the world disappeared. The fight, the anger, all of it melted under his touch. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach, and every brush of him made your head spin. You could barely form coherent thoughts, only little gasps and soft moans escaping as he took control, teasing, taunting, and driving you absolutely crazy.
âYou feel so good,â he muttered against you, teeth grazing your skin, hands roaming everywhere. âGod, Iâve imagined this for months⌠you, like this⌠all mine.â
And then he moved, hands guiding you against the wall, positioning himself. Every thrust hit just right, every groan from him vibrating through your body, sending jolts of pleasure so intense you thought you might melt right there.
You clung to him, nails digging into his back, trying to ground yourself as he continued, but he was wild, hungry. Every motion was a mix of pleasure and control, and you couldnât help but let out those little frustrated, whiny noises that made him grin like a teenager losing all control.
âSo fucking good,â he growled, hitting that spot inside you again and again, holding himself back from cumming too soon, from ruining the moment. âIâve been keeping myself from this for months, and ill fuck you like the slut i know you are fill you up with my cumâ
Your body shuddered, heat spreading, moans spilling out uncontrollably, and he just smirked, leaning down to whisper right in your ear. âDonât fight it⌠let me see what I can do to youâŚâ
By the time he finally let himself go, it was slow, controlled, perfect, a messy, satisfying release for both of you. You felt like youâd been undone and rebuilt all at once, heart racing, body buzzing. He pulled you close, holding you to him, chest pressed against yours, breathing heavy, smirking down at you like heâd won something monumental. No regret in those blue eyes about Sofia.
Bsf!rafe is more then eager to show you how to kiss after finding out you never done it before
Pairing: Bsf!Rafe Cameron x Shy!Reader
Warnings: emotional manipulation, kissing, rafe using chance with you
You fit in his lap like you belonged there.
Not in a way that was loud or obvious not straddling him, not grinding or anything dramatic just tucked between his legs, your back against his chest, his thighs warm on either side of you. Familiar. Comfortable. Like this had always been the default.
Rafe had one arm loosely around your waist, the other holding his phone up so you could both see. He was scrolling mindlessly, thumb flicking up the screen while you watched whatever nonsense popped up cars, fights, rich people doing rich-people shit.
You were half-listening, half-dozing.
Then a video came up of a couple.
Kissing.
Your body reacted before your brain could stop it.
You tensed.
It was subtle barely there but Rafe felt it instantly. He always did. Your shoulders went stiff, breath catching just a little, like youâd braced yourself for something.
He stopped scrolling.
âHey,â he said quietly, tilting his head down toward you. âWhatâs wrong bunny?â
âNothing,â you answered too fast.
You ducked your face, pressing your forehead into the warm spot beneath his jaw, hiding there like that would make the moment disappear. His neck smelled like soap and something clean and sharp, and it grounded you but not enough.
Rafe didnât move his arm away. Instead, he tightened it.
âThat wasnât nothing,â he said. âYou donât tense like that for no reason.â
You shook your head, small and stubborn. âItâs dumb.â
He huffed a quiet laugh. âTry me.â
You stayed quiet.
His jaw shifted above you. You could feel him thinking weighing how hard to push, which version of himself to use. Gentle Rafe. Annoying Rafe. The one who didnât let things go.
He nudged his chin against your temple. âCâmon,â he murmured. âTalk to me.â
You swallowed.
Still didnât answer.
His hand slid from your waist to your side, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles through your shirt grounding, but coaxing.
âYouâre hiding,â he said softly. âWhy?â
Your heart started beating too loud.
âIt justââ You stopped. Breathed in. Tried again. âI just⌠I donât like watching that stuff.â
Rafe frowned slightly. âKissing?â
You nodded, still not looking up.
He was quiet for a second.
Then, gently: âWhy?â
The answer sat heavy in your chest. Embarrassing. Small. Stupid. Youâd carried it for so long it felt ridiculous saying it out loud now.
âIâve never⌠done that,â you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
His body went still.
âDone what?â
You squeezed your eyes shut. âKissed someone.â
The silence that followed was loud.
Rafe leaned back just enough to look at you, one hand coming up to tilt your chin so you couldnât hide anymore. His eyes searched your face, disbelief written all over him.
âWait,â he said. âYouâre serious?â
You nodded, mortified.
He stared for another second then laughed. Not mean. Not mocking. Just⌠shocked.
âNo fucking way,â he said. âYouâre messing with me.â
âIâm not,â you said quickly. âI justâ I never wanted to, I guess. And then it just never happened.â
His laugh faded.
He looked at you differently now. Focused. Sharp. Something dark and interested flickering behind his eyes.
âHoly fuck,â he murmured. âYouâre telling me no oneâs ever kissed you?â
You shook your head.
His thumb was still under your chin. You realized then how close his face was. How warm his breath felt against your cheek.
âThatâsâŚâ He trailed off, then smirked faintly. âThatâs kind of insane.â
You frowned. âWhy?â
âBecause,â he said slowly, âpeople would kill for the chance.â
Your stomach flipped.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His grip tightened not enough to hurt, just enough to make it clear he wasnât letting go.
âYou donât have to look so freaked out,â he said, softer now. âIâm not judging you.â
âI know,â you whispered. âItâs just embarrassing.â
Rafe tilted his head. Studied you.
Then, casually too casually he said, âI could show you.â
Your breath hitched.
âShow me⌠what?â
âHow itâs done,â he replied.
You froze.
Rafeâs voice stayed gentle, unhurried, like he wasnât offering something that could change everything.
âJust a kiss,â he said. âNothing weird. Nothing you donât want.â
Your mind screamed this is a bad idea but your body leaned into him anyway, instinctively seeking comfort where it always had.
âYou donât have to say yes,â he added, low. âBut if you want to know⌠Iâd rather it be with me than some asshole who doesnât care.â
That was unfair.
He knew you wouldnât say no.
Your silence stretched then you nodded.
Rafeâs breath left him slow.
âYeah?â he asked.
Another nod.
He shifted you easily, one hand firm at your lower back, turning you so you were facing him now knees still in his lap, hands resting awkwardly on his shoulders like you didnât know where they belonged.
âOkay,â he said quietly. âJust follow me.â
His hand slid up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer until your chest brushed his.
His forehead touched yours.
âYou good?â he asked.
âYes,â you whispered.
He didnât rush.
His lips brushed yours once barely there like a question.
Then again.
Softer. Warmer.
Your body melted before your brain could catch up.
âThatâs it,â he murmured against your mouth. âRelax.â
He kissed you again, slower this time, letting you feel it the pressure, the warmth, the way his lips moved with intention. You followed clumsily, heart racing, fingers curling into his shirt.
Rafe hummed low in his throat.
There it was.
The shift.
He deepened the kiss, hand sliding to cradle the back of your head, tilting it just right. His lips parted, tongue brushing against yours tentative at first, then more insistent when you didnât pull away.
âGood job bunny, doing so well for meâ he whispered, then showed you.
He kissed you hungry now, not rough but greedy, tongue pressing between your lips like heâd been waiting for this like heâd always known how it would feel. His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him.
Your breath stuttered.
Rafe smiled into the kiss, satisfied.
âThatâs my girl,â he murmured softly, before kissing you again.
Your ex calls you in middle of the night because he misses your pussy so much
Pairing:desparate ex!rafe cameron x reader
Summary: itâs been months since you last heard from Rafe until tonight. He calls you in the middle of the night, desperate and whiny, ranting about how no one else compares to you. How he misses you, your body, and the way you make him feel. You should hang up, but instead, you just listen, soaking in his frustration, his sufferin because, deep down, you love that heâs ruined without you.
Warnings: Toxic dynamics, heavy desperation, explicit sexual talk, emotional manipulation, ego-stroking, and Rafe being completely down bad.
You blink yourself awake, disoriented, the shrill ring of your phone pulling you from sleep. The room is dark, the only light coming from the screen, his name glowing against it like some kind of warning.
Rafe.
Your stomach twists, but you donât hesitate to answer. Itâs been months, and he hasnât calledânot once. Not until now.
The second you press the phone to your ear, you hear him. "Fuck, you actually picked up." His voice is rough, thick with something that almost sounds like desperation. If you didnât know him better, youâd think he was on the verge of crying. But Rafe doesnât cry. Not really. He just gets whiny when he doesnât get what he wants.
"What do you want?" Your voice is hoarse from sleep, but thereâs an amused lilt to it. Because whatever this is, itâs already entertaining.
"You." He breathes the word out like a confession. "Fuck, I miss you so bad."
Thereâs a shuffle on the other end, like heâs running a hand through his hair, maybe pacing. Then, his voice drops lower. "I miss your pussy."
You should hang up. You should be disgusted. But you donât, and youâre not. You just smile lazily, stretching against your sheets as you wait for him to keep going. Because he will.
"She was nothing like you," he mutters, like it physically pains him to admit it. "I thought maybeâfuck, maybe if I closed my eyes, itâd feel the same. But it didnât. It never fucking does."
Heâs rambling now, and you just listen, letting it all sink in. The regret, the desperation, the way his voice gets breathier like just the memory of you is enough to drive him crazy.
"Not one of them squeezes me the way you do," he groans. "None of them make me feel like you do. The way you take meâshit, you ruin me every time, you know that?"
You hum, running your fingers through your hair, completely unbothered. "That so?"
"Yeah," he says, exhaling sharply. "Miss your mouth, too. The way you taste. The way you fucking whimper when Iâ"
You cut him off with a laugh, your ego swelling with every word. Heâs pathetic. Absolutely fucking ruined. He can pretend all he wants that this is about sex, but you hear it. Itâs not just your body he missesâitâs you.
And maybe that shouldnât feel as good as it does. But, god, it does.
"Poor baby," you murmur mockingly. "Did you think you could replace me?"
He groans again, and you swear you hear his head hit the wall. "Donât do that. Donâtâfuck, donât talk to me like that. You know I canât take it."
"Then whyâd you call?"
Silence.
And thatâs your answer.
He just breathes for a second, heavy and uneven, before he finally admits it. "Because I need you."
You shift in bed, your smirk growing as his breathing gets heavier. Heâs unraveling, and you donât even have to say much. Just letting him talkâletting him sufferâis entertainment enough.
"Youâre so fucking mean," Rafe whines, his voice breathy and strained. "Sitting there all quiet, just listening to me lose my fucking mind."
Your eyes flutter shut as you grin to yourself, biting your lip. You can practically see himâprobably shirtless, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair, pacing around like a caged animal. Maybe even lying in bed, all restless and desperate, palming himself to the thought of you but getting nowhere.
"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you taunt, dragging his name out slow. "Youâre the one who called me. Youâre the one who canât stop thinking about me."
He groans, and itâs so needy you almost feel bad. Almost.
"I fucking hate it," he breathes out. "I hate that I canâtâI canât fucking get off anymore. Not since you."
Your stomach tightens, but you keep your voice calm. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he huffs. "Tried, yâknow? After you. Fucked every girl whoâd let me. Thought if I kept trying, if I just found the right one, maybe itâd feel the same." He scoffs, and thereâs an edge of anger in his voiceâanger at himself, at them, at you for doing this to him. "But it never fucking does."
You let the silence linger, dragging it out just to hear him squirm.
"She didnât even get me hard at first," he admits, and he sounds so frustrated, like he canât believe this is his reality. "Had to close my eyes and think about you. Had to fucking imagine it was your hand stroking me, your mouth on me."
Your chest swells with satisfaction, a delicious warmth curling in your stomach. "Poor thing," you mock softly, barely containing your amusement.
"Not funny," Rafe mutters, but thereâs a slight whimper at the end of his words, like he knows heâs at your mercy.
"Oh, but it is."
His breath shudders on the other end. "I miss it. I miss you."
Heâs breaking now, voice barely above a whisper, and you just soak it in.
"Miss how tight you are. How fucking good you feel wrapped around me. Nothingânothingâcompares. They donât squeeze me the way you do, donât pull me in like you. Like you never wanna let go."
You hum, dragging a hand down your stomach, not even touching yourselfâjust feeling the power you have over him. "Sounds frustrating."
"It is," he rushes out. "It fucking is, and I hate you for it. Hate that you ruined me for anyone else."
You giggle, and itâs so cruel.
"Guess you shouldâve thought of that before you lost me, huh?"
His breathing stutters. Then, barely audible: "I didnât lose you. Youâre still here."
You donât answer. You just listen to him breatheâragged, desperate, broken.
The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You can hear every shaky breath Rafe takes, every little sound he makes as he tries to hold himself together.
"Say something," he finally mutters, voice strained. "Anything."
You smirk to yourself, shifting lazily against your pillows. "Why?"
"Because I fucking need it."
The desperation in his voice is almost patheticâand god, you love it.
"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you hum, dragging his name out like youâre savoring it. "Want me to tell you I miss you too?"
He exhales sharply. "Yes."
You laugh softly, shaking your head even though he canât see it. "Thatâs not happening."
"Fuckâwhy are you like this?" he groans, and thereâs something so helpless in the way he says it. Like heâs actually suffering. Like it physically hurts him that youâre not giving in.
You donât say anything, just listening as he unravels.
"I think about you all the fucking time," he breathes. "Every time I try to fuck someone else, I canât evenâfuck, I canât even finish unless Iâm thinking about you."
Your stomach tightens, a rush of heat curling between your legs. Heâs so gone, so completely wrecked, and itâs all because of you.
"That bad, huh?" you tease, biting your lip.
"Worse," he mutters. "So much fucking worse."
You hear a rustling sound on the other end of the line, like heâs shifting, maybe palming himself through his boxers, so frustrated he doesnât know what to do with himself.
"I should make you beg," you say idly, stretching your arms above your head.
He groans, and you swear you hear the sound of his head hitting the pillow. "I fucking am."
You giggle, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. "Not enough."
Rafe whinesâactually whinesâand your stomach clenches.
"Please," he breathes out, and heâs so fucking gone. "Please, baby, talk to me. Say something. Anything. I justâfuck, I just need to hear your voice while Iâ"
He cuts himself off, but you know what he was about to say.
And god, you should hang up. You should. But instead, you smirk, shifting slightly in bed as you murmur, "Keep talking, Rafe."
