[scorpiossslut]

RAFEHUB

“Picked Up & Pounded: Standing Creampie Leaves Her Legs Shaking”

(in which your boyfriend, Rafe, switches things up a bit in bed😛)

The bedroom is dark except for the faint silver glow from the moon coming through the half-open blinds, and the only sound is your breathing; quick and shallow, and his, low and ragged. And the wet slap of skin on skin as he fucks you from behind on the edge of the mattress.

You’re on your knees, ass up, face pressed to the sheets, back arched so perfectly he can see every ridge of your spine, every tremble that runs through you when he hits deep. His hands are locked around your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave marks you’ll feel tomorrow, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust so he buries himself to the hilt, balls slapping wetly against your clit. You’re dripping. Coating him, running down your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath your knees, and every time he pulls out almost all the way you whimper like he’s taking something vital away, then moan broken and high when he slams back in, stretching you open again.

“Fuck—Rafe—deeper—“

He gives it to you.

He always gives it to you.

He’s been fucking you for over an hour now-started slow on the couch downstairs when you climbed into his lap after dinner and ground against him until he was hard enough to hurt, then carried you up here and bent you over the dresser, then the bed, then flipped you onto your back so he could watch your face while he railed you until you came so hard you cried. You’ve come four times already. Once on his tongue, twice on his cock, once on his fingers while he kissed you slow and deep, and you’re still begging for more, still pushing back to meet every thrust like you can’t get enough of him inside you.

He loves it.

He loves how you take every inch like you were made for it.

He loves how you look when you’re falling apart-eyes glassy, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, tears clinging to your lashes while you sob his name and beg him not to stop.

He loves how you feel—tight, wet, hot, fluttering around him like you’re trying to pull him in deeper, keep him there forever

He slows his thrusts, grinds deep instead of slamming, rolls his hips so the head of his cock drags against that spot inside you that makes your whole body shake.

You moan— long, low, trembling—push back harder.

“Rafe— please—don’t stop—“

He leans over you, chest to your back, his mouth at your ear.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he rasps. “So wet. So perfect. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes— fuck—yes!”

He slides one hand around—finds your clit—rubs slow circles while he keeps grinding deep.

You sob, hips jerking, already close again.

“Come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock. Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze me, baby.”

You shatter, crying his name, walls clamping down so hard he has to grit his teeth to keep from coming right then.

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it. Slow, deep, until your tremors ease, until you’re whimpering from overstimulation but still pushing back for more.

Then he pulls out, slow and watches the way your cunt gapes for a second, still fluttering, still dripping with your release and his from earlier.

You whine, soft, needy and reach back, eager to get him back inside.

He grabs your hips, flips you onto your back then spreads your thighs wide.

You look completely wrecked. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy and dark with want, body trembling from how hard he fucked you.

He leans down, kisses you slow, deep, tongue sliding against yours while he lines himself up again.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pull him closer, moan into his mouth when he slides back in.

He fucks you slow, deep, watching your face the whole time.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “So perfect. And you’re all mine.”

You nod—tears spilling—hips rocking up desperately to meet him.

“Yours! Only yours, Rafe, please—fuck me.”

He picks up speed—harder, faster—until you’re shaking again, clenching, close.

Then he stops.

Pulls out completely.

You whine, desperate, reaching for him.

He grabs your wrists, wraps your arms around his neck.

“Hold tight, baby.” he smirks.

You blink—confused—but obey.

Then he stands, pulls you with him, lifts you like you weigh nothing.

You gasp at the sudden change of position, feeling yourself get wetter already at the sight of your boyfriend ready to fuck you while he’s literally standing, every muscle in his body flexing and shining with sweat that makes your mouth water for a taste.

Your legs tighten around his waist immediately-arms around his neck, mouth finding his in a hungry, desperate kiss.

He holds you there, standing in the middle of the bedroom, cock pressed to your entrance.

“Please—Rafe. Need it. Need your big cock inside me.” you whimper, hips rocking, trying to impale yourself on him.

He doesn’t let you.

Not yet.

He kisses your neck, bites down, sucks hard enough to leave a bruise.

You moan, loud, broken, head falling back.

“Rafe—please—“

With a groan, he shifts, lines up, and thrusts up hard.

You scream—sharp, sweet—nails digging into his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt.

He holds you there, standing, feet planted wide and thrusting up into you while he holds your weight like it’s nothing, his fingers gripping the fat of your ass roughly and spreading you wide.

You’re shaking— legs trembling around his waist—moaning his name over and over.

“Fuck—Rafe, you’re so strong—fuck—”

He growls, low, feral, then thrusts harder, deeper—each stroke lifting you up then slamming you back down onto his cock.

“You like that?” he rasps against your throat. “Like how strong I am? Like how I can hold you up and fuck you like this? Like I can carry you and rail this tight little cunt at the same time?”

“Yes—God—yes!”

He fucks you harder— faster— until you’re bouncing in his arms, tits pressed to his chest, nipples scraping his skin with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Taking me so deep, shaking— moaning like a little slut. My perfect fucking girl.”

You sob— high, broken—nails raking down his back.

“Rafe! Gonna come—gonna come so hard—“

“Fuck yeah baby, come on, cream on this cock—let me feel it—show me how much you love it.”

You shatter, crying his name, cunt clamping down so hard he almost blacks out.

Your whole body convulses—hips jerking, thighs trembling, wetness gushing around him, dripping down his balls.

He doesn’t stop.

He keeps thrusting— hard, deep—holding you up while you shake and sob and come apart in his arms.

“Fuck—baby.”

He comes hard—burying deep—spilling inside you with a groan, hips jerking, filling you until it’s leaking out around his cock.

You whimper, soft, overstimulated, walls still fluttering around him.

He holds you there, standing, breathing hard while kissing you slow, deep, gentle.

You cling to him. Arms around his neck, legs still wrapped tight, face buried in his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice trembling, body limp in his arms.

He kisses your temple, soft, reverent.

“I love you too.”

Then he carries you back to the bed, lays you down gently, stays inside you while he settles on top.

You don’t move.

Just breathe.

Just hold each other.

And you know you’re gonna ask for this position again real soon.

[angelicstarkey]

ride it right

roommate!rafe x reader

summary: your valentine's day tradition has quite the interesting twist after you confess something to your roommate

content warning: porn w/o plot, unprotected piv, cowgirl, missionary, creampies 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.9K

a/n: inspired by a tradition my girlies and I do on galentine's (minus certain activities lol) happy valentine's day!

Rafe was halfway out the door when he suddenly realized that the apartment smelled like rose petals and whipped vanilla. He paused, keys in hand, brows pulled together as he leaned back instead to take a proper look. The light from the sunrise spilled into the living room, catching onto something pink and shiny draped over the ceiling fan—heart streamers resembling candy hearts. On every corner of the wall was something that almost felt like the Valentine’s Day aisle from Party City exploded in his apartment, cheap paper garlands taped unevenly along the wall, a bowl of pink and red Hershey’s kisses and other dollar-store candy dumped into a red mixing bowl because it was the closest thing to something festive. Only a singular champagne flute was set out, which made his chest tighten before he could stop it because he knew it would’ve been just for you. 

Rafe heard your footsteps coming down the hallway, and he looked to see you getting ready to leave for work. 

“Is this what you stayed up late for last night?” You looked up to see Rafe looking at you with a raised eyebrow while also observing you in a way you’d never seen before. 

“Good morning to you too,” you slipped into your kitten heels and grabbed your keys before slipping out of the door with Rafe. “Yeah, it’s uh, a tradition my friends and I do every year. We watch the shitiest, raunchiest movies we can find and make fun of them. It’s like… therapy to make up for our lack of romantic attention.” 

A small smile tugged at your mouth. “But everyone’s busy this year. Dates and stuff. So.” You pointed your head back to the apartment, “I’ll be doing it on my own this year.” 

There was a beat of silence. Rafe looked at you as you both waited for the elevator to arrive. “You decorated the whole place for it?” 

“I mean,” you laughed softly. “I gotta commit to it. It’s one of my favourite times of the year.” 

He should’ve just left it as is. Rafe had somewhere to be, a night of drinking with his work buddies, and perhaps spend the night with some girl and leave her before the sun even rose the next morning. A life that didn’t involve sitting on the couch watching terrible romance movies with his roommate.

But the apartment felt different tonight, like it’d suddenly gotten a lot warmer and welcoming because of the tiny bubble of comfort you’d created, and now he wanted to squeeze in and watch how you view the world from the inside.

“I’ll take them down as soon as I’m back from work,” you offered, Rafe wincing at how apologetic you sounded. 

“Nah. I’ll join in.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“I said I’ll join.” He nodded toward the apartment. “You said you were alone anyway.”

“That was just—” You stopped. “Wait. Don’t you have— weren’t you going out?”

“Plans changed.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; he was changing them right now. He could always pick up some cougars tomorrow during morning brunch, if he wanted to. 

You studied him, suspicious. “You hate rom-coms.”

Rafe put his hands up in surrender, “God forbid I want to have a laugh too.” 

A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, and something warm settled low in his chest at the sound.

“You’re telling me he kidnapped her and held her captive, so now she’s willing to just suck him off like he deserves it?” Rafe stared at the screen incredulously. You wholeheartedly laugh at his reaction, “I know! She’s got a whole other level of Stockholm syndrome.” 

He shook his head slowly. “I really question your traditions.” 

“And I question why you don’t just get a girlfriend instead of going to the bar just for a quick fuck.” 

“Whoa—” He pointed at you. “First of all, that feels targeted. Second, you’re the one who diagnosed me with daddy issues, so maybe don’t come for the coping mechanisms.”

You rolled your eyes, looking back at the TV before speaking up, “I’ll never understand how people just… enjoy the cowgirl position.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you looked towards Rafe, “it looks exhausting. And unrealistic. Like— you’re doing all the work, your legs are dying, and then at the end nobody even finishes.”

He stared at you for a second, something unreadable flickering across his face.

“That’s your takeaway?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said defensively. “It’s overrated.”

“No,” he said quietly, leaning a little closer. His lips brushed against your ears, smirking as he whispered, “You just haven’t been with someone who knows how to make it good for you.”

The movie was long forgotten, the cheap grocery store cupcakes Rafe had brought home and decorations a blurry backdrop to the only thing that mattered—the raw, desperate need thrumming between you. Rafe’s smirk was all the answer you needed. In one fluid motion, he pulled you up on top of him. His hands were firm on your waist, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“Take this off,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble as he hooked a finger in the hem of your oversized shirt that you’d stolen from him, but Rafe had pretended not to notice. You didn't hesitate. You crossed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes roamed over your exposed skin, dark with appreciation. He reached up, his thumbs brushing over the lace of your bra, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath it before he deftly unhooked it. It joined your shirt on the floor.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he breathed, leaning forward to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the valley between your breasts. His hands moved to the waistline of your mini sleep shorts, making quick work of the drawstring and pushing them down your hips. You stepped out of them, kicking them away, leaving you in just your panties.

He lay back against the pillows, propping himself up on his elbows. “Now, come here.”

You climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. The hard ridge of his cock strained against his sweatpants, pressing right against your core, and you couldn't help the little rock of your hips, a desperate seeking of friction. He groaned, his hands gripping your thighs.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased, but his voice was tight with his own need. “Take them off.”

You shifted back, your fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging them down. His cock sprang free from its constriction, thick, hard, and already leaking at its reddened tip. You could feel the rush of heat between your thighs, the dampening mess occurring on your panties. 

“Not yet,” he said, reading your mind. He gripped your hips again, pulling you forward until you were hovering over him. “You wanted to know how good it can be. I’m going to show you.”

He reached between your bodies, his fingers hooking the side of your panties and pulling the damp fabric aside. He ran a single finger through your slick folds, gathering your wetness, and you shuddered at the contact.

“So fucking wet for me,” he growled. “You’re going to feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. “Take your time,” he instructed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Sink down on me, nice and slo- atta girl. Let yourself feel every inch.”

You braced your hands on his chest, the muscles hard and defined beneath your palms. You slowly lowered yourself, his thick head stretching you open and causing a delicious burn that left you gasping. You sank onto Rafe inch by inch, your body accommodating his impressive size until he was fully seated inside you, filling you completely. A silent moan of relief left your mouth as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation of being so full. But Rafe was impatient to show you how much you were missing out.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his hands stroking the back of your thighs. “Now move, baby. Ride me. Show me how you like it.”

You started to move, a slow, tentative roll of your hips. It felt good, but you were still conscious of the burn in your thighs, the awkwardness you always associated with the position.

“Don’t think,” Rafe commanded, his voice firm. “Just feel. Look at me.”

Your eyes met his, and the raw lust you saw there gave you a jolt of confidence. He brought one hand up to your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple before pinching it.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with approval. “Just like that. Fuck, you look so beautiful taking my cock.” His words were like gasoline on a fire. You started to move with more purpose, lifting yourself up and sliding back down, the slick drag of him inside you sending sparks of pleasure through your veins.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, his hips starting to thrust up to meet yours, driving himself deeper. “Take what you need. Use my cock to make yourself feel good.”

The encouragement was exactly what you needed. You let go of your self-consciousness, focusing only on the feeling of him inside you, the way his hands roamed your body, the filthy words pouring from his lips. You found a rhythm, a steady bounce that had his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every downward stroke.

“Fuck, you’re a natural,” he gritted out, his grip on your hips tightening. “Riding me like you were made for it. Such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

The praise sent you spiralling. You could feel the pressure building low in your belly, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with each thrust. Your movements became more frantic as you became more desperate catch the release you were chasing for so long.

“Come on, baby,” Rafe urged, his thumb coming down to rub tight circles over your clit. “Let go. I want to feel you come all over my cock. That’s it, good girl, come for me.”

“Fuck, Rafe. Oh my god,” you moaned, throwing your head back as Rafe kissed your collarbone, peppering small purple marks as a reminder of this night. The stimulation Rafe was giving you was all too much. With a cry, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your walls clenched around him, milking his cock as you rode out your high.

Rafe didn’t stop, though. He gripped your hips, flipping you over without ever pulling out, suddenly on top of you. He hooked your legs over his arms and drove into you, hard and deep, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he panted, his forehead pressed against yours. “So tight, so wet. All for me.”

With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to a hilt deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you with his warmth. Rafe collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting pressure as you both struggled to catch your breath. After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then on your lips, almost as if he was thanking you.

“Told you,” he murmured, a smug satisfaction in his voice. “It’s not overrated. You just hadn’t been doing it right.”

dividers: @angeliicide @saradika-graphics

[ririsaltar]

── .✦ house of balloons . . . r.c

in which . . . you can't pay full price to rafe...so you repay it in a different way

warnings . . . drug intake, piv, unprotected sex, riding, smoking, high sex, dirty talk, creampie, overstimulation (?)

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept!

HOUSE OF BALLOONS TRILOGY WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #3

the party pulses through the cameron estate, bass thumping from hidden speakers, bodies grinding in the dim glow of neon lights strung across the backyard. kooks and pogues blur together in the haze of spilled liquor and smoke, but you stick to your circle — rafe's circle — leaning against the bar with a fresh drink in hand. he's across the room, dealing discreetly, that predatory smirk on his face as he slips baggies into palms. you've known him long enough to know the game; as a kook yourself, money's no issue, but tonight, you're playing loose.

you slide up to him when the crowd thins, murmuring your order — coke, enough for the high to last the weekend. rafe's eyes flick to you, dark and knowing, as he hands over the packet. you slip him cash, but it's short — deliberately, testing the waters.

his brow arches, but he pockets it without a word, turning back to the next buyer. the party's pull drags you away, but later, when the music dips and you're laughing with friends by the pool, rafe's hand clamps your elbow, pulling you into a shadowed corner.

"y'think 'm stupid or some shit?" his voice is low, breath hot against your ear, laced with that dangerous edge. the air smells of chlorine and weed, his cologne cutting through. "that's half the price, princess. pay up."

you tilt your chin, meeting his glare with a defiant smile, the buzz from your first line already humming in your veins. "can't tonight. but i can make it worth your while." your fingers trail his chest, nails scraping lightly over his shirt. his jaw ticks, eyes narrowing, but the heat in them betrays him. he doesn't argue — just nods toward the house, grip tightening as he steers you inside, up the stairs, away from the chaos.

the bedroom door clicks shut, muffling the distant roar of the party. rafe's room is a mess. silk sheets rumpled on the king bed, table scattered with remnants of the night. he strips off his shirt first, muscles flexing under tanned skin, muscleles shifting as he reaches for the joint already lit on the nightstand. you follow suit, peeling away your tight dress, leaving it in a heap. lace thong clings to your hips, but rafe's already hard, cock straining against his jeans as he watches you climb onto the bed.

"c'mere. ride me." he orders, sinking back against the headboard, unzipping to free his thick length. it's heavy in his hand, veined and flushed, tip glistening. you straddle him without hesitation, knees sinking into the mattress, guiding his cock to your entrance.

you're soaked from the anticipation, the party's energy still thrumming, and he slides in easy — stretching your walls with that familiar burn. a moan slips out as you sink down fully, bottoming out, his length filling you to the brink.

rafe takes a slow drag from the joint, smoke curling from his lips as his free hand settles on your thigh. you start moving, rolling your hips in a steady grind, pussy clenching around him with each lift and drop.

the friction builds fast, slick sounds mixing with your gasps, his cock dragging against your insides. he exhales, passing the joint to you, eyes locked on where you're joined.

"hit it," he says, voice gravelly. you do, inhaling deep, the smoke burning your lungs as pleasure spikes. your walls flutter tight around his dick just like he knows they will — that involuntary squeeze from the rush, making him groan low.

"fuuuck, yeah, clench that pussy," he mutters, taking the joint back for another pull. you bounce harder now, hands braced on his chest, nails digging into his skin. sweat slicks your bodies, the room hazy with weed and sex. his hips buck up to meet you, thrusting shallow, the head of his cock nudging deep each time. you lean forward, tits brushing his chest, grinding your clit against his base for that extra spark. filthy wet slaps echo as you ride him relentlessly, chasing the high, drugs and him blurring into one wave.

rafe's not close yet, his control pretty much intact, but he feels your rhythm faltering, orgasm building in the tremor of your thighs. he stubs out the joint half-smoked, before both hands clamp your hips like vices.

"not done with you," he growls, taking over. his fingers bruise as he lifts you up, almost off his cock, then slams you back down — hard, deep, setting a brutal pace. you cry out, head thrown back, the force jolting through you. he bounces you like that, relentless, cock bruising your core over and over and over.

your pussy grips him tighter with each thrust, walls rippling, the overstimulation making tears prick your eyes.

"rafe..fuck, too much," you whimper, but he doesn't stop, thrusting up to match, grinding you down until you're sobbing from the intensity.

the party's distant hum fades, nothing but the obscene squelch of your slick, his grunts, your moans filling the space. he shifts one hand to your ass, spreading you wider, thumb teasing your hole as he pounds up.

finally, his breath hitches, control cracking. "gonna fill this cunt," he rasps, hips snapping erratic now, chasing his high.

you shatter first, orgasm ripping through you violently, pussy convulsing around him in waves, milking his cock. he follows with a guttural curse, burying deep as he comes — hot ropes pulsing inside, flooding your walls. only then does he let up, hands loosening on your hips, letting you collapse against him, spent and dripping.

rafe's chest heaves under you, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips as he strokes your back lazily.

"tired already? nah baby, we're not done yet." he murmurs with a smirk, lips pressed to your ear.

© ririsaltar

taglist: @raevyng @coastalcowgirlie @bonjourjiminie @kelbrave @skankhvnt42 @rafessbaby

[scorpiossslut]

god he’s such a frat slut i want him sm

[sadgirlily-deactivated20260118]

eating you out, nsfw ! mdni.

his nose presses into you first, not even kissing yet, just breathing. deep and steady like he’s trying to memorize your scent from the inside out. his mouth’s open barely and the air that slips past his lips is warm and thick and needy, like he’s been waiting all day to get here.

his tongue doesn’t come right away. it’s his nose that moves first, nudging up, dragging slow through your folds, firm and just a little too deliberate. he lingers there, just under your clit, breathing against it while his mouth hovers below. every inhale pushes heat through you, makes your thighs twitch. makes your chest rise fast.

and then he exhales right on it. right where it’s swollen and aching, like he knows what that’ll do. your hips lift instinctively and he groans, softly, barely audible, but vibrating against you, mouth pressed in now, tongue peeking out to taste the slick he’s already smeared all over his face.

he doesn’t kiss like he’s teasing. he kisses like it’s intimate. tongue slow, full and heavy, sliding from your entrance up to your clit with aching patience. he noses into you with every pass, the bridge of it brushing perfectly where you’re throbbing, and he just—stays there.

no rush. no talking. just hot breath and wet sounds and his mouth working you open like he was made to be between your legs.

he groans again, deeper this time, right when your hand grips his hair. his tongue pushes in. not fast, not hungry, just thick, curling inside you, dragging out so slow your stomach tenses. he licks like it’s a rhythm, not a goal. like he’d do it for hours. like he has done it for hours.

his nose grinds gently up as his tongue fucks in, and the pressure sends a tremor through you. your hips jolt. your breath breaks. and he moans again, head rocking with the motion of your body, staying perfectly locked into that sweet, constant rhythm of mouth down, nose up, pressure, lick, moan, repeat.

you’re soaked. he’s covered in it. it shines on his cheeks, on his lip, slicking the edge of his glasses and the tip of his nose and he doesn’t wipe it away. he doesn’t want to. he wants to drown in it.

your thighs shake, closing in around his ears. he groans like he likes the squeeze, hands sliding up to hold your hips in place as your body starts to stutter, legs twitching, cunt clenching, breath snapping short.

and he doesn’t stop.

he tongues deeper. noses harder. lets you ride his face like you’re breaking him apart, every movement coaxed out of you by the steady, devoted rhythm of his mouth.

and when you finally cum—shaking, gasping, soaked and silent—he just keeps going. no words. no questions. not even a pause.

just a nose nudging your clit like it belongs there and a tongue licking up everything you give him like he hasn’t even started yet.

© sadgirlily 25’ | all rights reserved. modifying, translating, or duplicating my works as your own is prohibited. plagiarism is a crime.

[rafesangelita]

♡ when rafe gets soooo pussy drunk..

warnings: unprotected sex, slight sub!rafe (?), praise, hair pulling, titty sucking, spanking, groping, light biting, face sitting, oral sex (f. receiving), tongue fucking, overstimulation

a/n: this one is for my plus sized baddies ໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১

“fuck, fuck, fuck..” to say that rafe was gone and so far away in his own state of hysteria would be putting it nicely. he looked thoroughly flushed underneath you, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning a bright pink as your hips moved up and down his length. rafe laid there at your mercy, his fingertips digging so hard into the plush flesh of your thighs, you couldn’t help but whine at the slight discomfort every time he managed to grip you even tighter than before. with teary eyes, rafe gazed up at you as his jaw fell slack, his eyebrows knitting together as you switched from bouncing on top of him to dragging your hips slowly over his lap so he could revel in the feeling of you being wrapped around him— so warm and tight.

“holy shit, baby,” rafe groaned, craning his neck to look down and see where you two were connected, “f-feels so fucking good.” he shuddered, blinking slowly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. you watched rafe’s chest cave in with every breath, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he cursed obscenities through gritted teeth. moving his palms to the curves of your hips, he urged you to lean down and rest against his chest, one arm wrapping tight around your waist, and the other gripping the roots of your hair as his mouth latched onto your nipple. “oh—!” you cried out when he started fucking up into you, the plap! plap! plap! of his skin meeting yours making your cheeks heat.

rafe couldn’t comprehend anything else except for the sweet scent of your perfume, the softness of your skin, and the wetness that surrounded his cock with every thrust inside your needy cunt. “i don’t know what you do to me,” rafe held you close, “every time i’m inside you, i can’t fucking think.” he laughed, feeling damn near psychotic by how fast the smile left his lips when he felt you clench around him. slamming his palm down, you yelped when rafe grabbed a handful of your ass without any kind of gentle regard, his teeth nipping at your skin as you reveled in the pure unadulterated pleasure licking your insides. “this body is perfect,” he grunted, groping at your tummy, “you’re perfect.”

before you could register his words, rafe was pulling out and scooting down the bed so he could seat you on his face, his strong arms wrapping around your thighs before his tongue was flicking against your clit. doubling over, you threaded your fingers in his hair as a broken moan sounded from your lips. “oh god!” you squealed, your shoulders dropping in defeat upon feeling the familiar tension beginning to coil in your belly. rafe didn’t care about being soft or sweet when he was devouring you like a man starved. times like this called for your ass and thighs to smother him in a way that had his cock standing up in the air by itself, the tip of his nose nudging your sensitive bundle of nerves as he worked your entrance with his tongue— the combination making you cum on his face in record time.

rafe made sure to hold you in place when overstimulation set in so that you couldn’t pull away from him until he was done, your orgasm ripping through you as you shook and trembled in his hold. you were nothing short of intoxicating, your sticky succulence driving rafe mad with lust as he continued lapping at your glossy folds. he could never get enough of you— not when every time felt like the first time all over’s again. hearing you cry, seeing you squirm, feeling your body react to every praise and compliment he showered you with.. there was never going to be another feeling that could top this one.

[anon-188]

(not) better than revenge - r. cameron

(pics are just for aesthetic purposes!)

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: ~3.8k

summary: you could’ve taken the high road, but you took rafe cameron instead—on camera, in your ex’s bed, and without a single ounce of regret.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fuckboy!rafe, smut with plot, revenge sex, filming/recording, alcohol consumption (not drunk), petty behavior, humiliation (aimed at your ex), strong language, unprotected sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, mild praise, reader called “pretty”

a/n: i had so much fun writing this omg 😩 i hope you guys enjoy!! <3

✦ kinktober ‘25 | kinktober masterlist | obsession collection

The house was already shaking by the time you pulled up. Music thumping through the walls, lights bleeding through the windows, laughter spilling out the front door in waves.

Typical.

Kooks always threw the same kind of party.

Big house. Loud music. Too much money. Not enough sense.

And him—your ex.

Poster boy for it all.

If you’d had any sense, you would’ve waited until morning to grab your stuff. But he’d texted you earlier, something smug about “tonight’s fine,” and you weren’t in the mood to drag it out. 

You just wanted your things back. 

Heads turned the second you stepped inside, bag slung over your shoulder. The air was thick—sweat, perfume, bass vibrating through the floor. Eyes followed you, some with pity, most with that hungry curiosity Kooks always had for drama that wasn’t theirs.

And then there he was.

Leaning against the counter, beer in hand, that same smirk already in place like he’d been practicing it just for you.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” your ex called out, voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

You forced a thin smile. “Just here for my stuff.”

He pushed off the counter, strolling closer until he was right in front of you, confidence dripping from every step.

“Come on. We both know why you’re really here,” he said, tone dipping low—what he probably thought sounded smooth. The smell of alcohol didn’t help his case. 

You frowned, face scrunching up in disgust.

“Yeah. To get my shit and leave.” You said flatly, before turning toward the stairs.

But he moved faster, cutting you off.

“Still pretending you don’t miss me?”

You scoffed, arms crossing tight. “What’s to miss? The love triangle between you, me, and your ego?”

That one hit. You saw it in the flicker of his jaw before he recovered.

“Don’t act like that, baby,” he drawled, still trying, still not reading the fucking room.

You rolled your eyes so far back you might’ve slipped into another dimension.

“I’m not your baby. And I’m not acting. Move.” You shoved past him. Hard enough that his drink sloshed in his hand, nearly spilling down his shirt. 

He was still running his mouth as you headed for the stairs—every word confirming exactly why you’d left in the first place.

By the time you hit the second floor, the music had dulled to a low, distant thud beneath your feet.

His room looked the same as it always had. The same tangled sheets. The same clothes on the floor. That same heavy mix of overpriced cologne and cheap arrogance still clinging to the air, sharp and overdone, like he thought it could cover everything else.

The feeling tugged at you—strained, bitter—but you pushed it down. You dropped your bag on the edge of the bed and crossed to the dresser, pulling drawers open one by one. You grabbed what was left: a few shirts, your perfume, things you didn’t even remember leaving behind.

In the bathroom, you scooped up the rest with one arm. Skincare, hair ties, half-used bottles that had been sitting there too long. You didn’t stop to check what was worth keeping. Just kept moving, focused on leaving as fast as you could.

All that was left was the nightstand, cluttered with smaller things. An extra charger. Lip balm. A book. Little reminders that once, you’d actually lived here.

You stepped out of the bathroom, quietly cursing under your breath about how ridiculous this all was. About how ridiculous he was.

The zipper on your bag rasped faintly as you tucked the last few bottles inside, the quiet sound almost lost beneath the bass thudding from downstairs. You straightened, brushing your hands against your thighs, already turning toward the nightstand—

Then the bedroom door flew open.

Quick. Sharp.

It slammed shut just as fast, the echo cutting through the music below.

You froze mid-step, pulse skipping as your eyes locked on the figure now standing in front of the door, his back to you.

Broad. Solid. Familiar.

A silhouette you recognized maybe a little too quickly.

Rafe. 

His shoulders were tight, like he was bracing for something. Or maybe trying to outrun it.

Your eyes lingered longer than they should have, tracing the tension in his back, the slow rise and fall of his frame. You tilted your head slightly, curiosity slipping into something quieter, something sharper. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t run from anything.

Not people. Not consequences.

He moved through spaces like the world would part for him eventually. Like time itself would slow down just to fall at his feet. And it usually did.

So what the hell had him slipping into rooms, shutting doors like he needed to hide?

The corner of your mouth lifted.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Your voice wasn’t sharp, just amused. 

Intrigued, even.

He turned, slow but unbothered, like he’d only just now realized he wasn’t alone. A red solo cup hung from his hand, paired with that same unreadable ease he alway had stamped across his face.

Then his eyes met yours.

His lips twitched up—just barely. It was something crooked, but subtle.

“Hi,” he said. Voice low. Lazy. Like he had no intention of explaining himself.

And knowing him, he probably didn’t.

“Hi,” you echoed, tone matching his, but you didn’t let him steer the conversation. Your smile tugged wider as you took a slow step closer, eyes narrowing just enough to make it playful.

“What are you doing in here?”

A soft chuckle slipped out of him, deep and smooth. His lips parted, maybe to give one of those half-answers he was famous for.

Then you heard it.

A voice from the hallway.

High. Loud. Whiny.

“Rafe?”

It dragged out like a complaint. Followed by another, more desperate call.

“Rafeee—come on.”

He didn’t flinch, but something in his jaw tightened. Just for a second. Like even hearing her voice scraped against something in him.

You glanced toward the door, then back at him.

“I see,” you said, laughing under your breath.

He smirked faintly, lifting his cup for another drink, but his eyes stayed on you, steady and unblinking.

And you felt it—the weight of his stare sinking low in your stomach, warm and heavy.

It had always been like that.

That quiet pull that existed long before you ever admitted it to yourself. The kind that lived in glances that lasted too long and silences that said too much. It was always there, thick in the air, but never acted on.

Your ex made sure of that.

Rafe was “bad news,” “not your type,” “off-limits.”

The one time you’d slipped—bumped into Rafe at a party and muttered a quick apology—it had been enough to start one of those “boundaries” arguments your ex liked to rehash. Over and over. Like saying sorry was a betrayal.

And maybe it was. Not because of you, but because of the way Rafe had looked at you that night—the same way he was looking at you now. Like the room had narrowed to just the two of you, and he didn’t mind letting you know it.

From the hallway, the girl’s voice rose again. Louder this time. Dragging out his name in that grating tone that made it sound like a plea.

Rafe sighed under his breath, muttering something you almost missed. “Shouldn’t have even come. Don’t even like the guy.”

He followed it with a roll of his eyes and a slow shake of his head, like the whole night was one long mistake he was trying to blink out of existence. That familiar mix of irritation and indifference—his signature—settled across his face as he glanced away for a second, then right back to you.

You knew they weren’t real friends, Rafe and your ex. They were more like mutually tolerated acquaintances—something about deals, favors, image. That kind of friendship didn’t last without alcohol or an audience.

Still, you teased. 

“If you don’t like him,” you asked, eyes skimming the rim of his cup before meeting his stare again, “then why are you here?”

Rafe’s gaze dragged over you like he was weighing his words, deciding if silence said it better.

When he finally opened his mouth, he flipped it cleanly.

“Why are you?”

You caught it immediately—the shift, the way he dodged without ever breaking eye contact. Typical. But this time, you didn’t press. You let him have the out.

A soft sigh slipped past your lips as you turned toward the bed, the reminder of why you even came here cutting clean through the haze.

“Just grabbing my stuff.” You said, voice taut and measured.

It wasn’t defensive. Just honest. You didn’t owe him more than that.

He nodded slightly, still watching you.

“Yeah, I heard you guys broke up. Shame.”

Your eyes snapped back to him, fast and sharp. “I don’t think so.”

Rafe smirked—not wide, just enough to crease the corner of his mouth. Like he’d been waiting for that.

Then—

“I wasn’t saying it for you.”

His words came smooth and low, carrying a rough edge that landed exactly where they shouldn’t have. Right in that place you pretended didn’t exist—the one you’d denied a hundred times.

You shook your head, trying to clear it, and stepped toward the nightstand for the last of your things.

Rafe didn’t say a word.

He just leaned against the doorframe like he belonged there, one hand wrapped around the solo cup, the other tucked loose into his pocket. His eyes tracked you, slow and steady, dragging over every shift of your body with a focus that pressed heat into your spine.

The silence stretched, but not in a way that begged to be filled. It hung thick in the room, weighted and electric. It curled around your body, crept up your legs, settled just beneath your skin.

You swung your bag over your shoulder and turned toward the door, ready to walk out like you hadn’t noticed. Like your pulse wasn’t racing.

But he was there.

In front of the door again. Still. Calm. Blocking nothing and everything all at once.

Your breath caught before you could stop it. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood there with the same unreadable expression. The kind that made it hard to tell if he was daring you to leave or waiting for you not to.

Standing that close, the pull hit again. Harder this time.

You could smell the liquor on his breath—sweet and sharp. Feel the warmth radiating off his skin. It filled the space between you, made the distance feel smaller than it was.

You swallowed once, tightening your grip on the strap over your shoulder.

“Have a good night,” you said, voice quiet but steady.

He matched it, tone easy. “You too.”

Your eyes lingered on his face, slow enough to give you away. The sharp angle of his jaw, the line of his nose, the way his lips parted slightly when your gaze dropped to them. A subtle twitch curved the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly where your thoughts were heading.

Heat curled low in your stomach, thick and undeniable. The air between you thinned. Every inch of space suddenly felt too loud, too charged, too full of the tension you’d spent months pretending wasn’t there.

You felt it in the silence. In the way both of you held still. In the way you waited for the other to break first.

And then—

Fuck it.

You dropped your bag without a second thought, barely hearing it hit the floor. Your hands were already reaching for him, fingers hooking around the back of his neck as you pulled him in fast. 

Your mouth crashed into his like you were mad at him for how good it felt. Like the silence, the glances, the weight of his stare had finally worn you down to this.

Rafe moved just as quick.

The red cup left his hand in an instant, beer splashing out as it hit the floor somewhere behind you. He didn’t look to see where it landed. Didn’t care. His hands were already on you, urgent and greedy, dragging down your back, gripping your waist.

Your fingers twisted in his shirt, mouth parting wider as his tongue slid against yours, deep and rough. His grip on you was bruising, palms locked at your hips like he’d been waiting too long to touch you and wasn’t about to be gentle about it.

The kiss turned desperate—messy, breathless, all tongue and teeth and the sound of shallow breathing between half-formed moans. Every step he took pushed you backward until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. His weight pressed you into the mattress, the sheets twisting beneath you until—

You felt it.

Something hard, wedged beneath your back.

You broke the kiss just enough to reach down, fingers brushing over the fabric before closing around it. Your chest tightened the moment you brought it into view.

A phone.

His phone.

Your ex’s.

You hadn’t even noticed it earlier in the mess of the unmade bed.

For a second, neither of you moved. The silence stretched thick between your bodies, the weight of it pressing into your ribs. Then your gaze found his again, a flicker of amusement cutting through the heat. 

Something passed between you. Unspoken. Instant.

Rafe’s eyes dropped to the phone, then back to you, slow and wicked, before a laugh slipped out. 

Then came the smirk. Heavy. Knowing. Like he’d just been handed a gift he wasn’t about to waste.

The air in the room shifted.

Sharper. Dirtier. Meaner in all the right ways.

Without missing a beat, you tilted your head toward the nightstand, voice low.

“There. Prop it against the lamp.”

Rafe didn't ask questions. Didn't hesitate.

He walked over, flipped the phone in his palm, then swiped to the left. The screen lit up instantly, camera open from the lock screen. With one tap, he flipped it to video then pressed record, setting it in place with a casualness that made your skin prickle.

From that angle, your face barely even showed in the frame. But Rafe's? Clear as day. And he didn’t care. If anything, he seemed proud of it.

He turned back to you just as you opened the nightstand drawer.

Your hand reached in, grabbed one of the condoms your ex always kept stashed there. You held it up between two fingers, brows raised in silent question.

Rafe glanced down at it, then up—his eyes dragging over you in one slow pass before a rough, amused laugh slipped out.

“That’s not gonna work,” he said, grin cutting wide. “Too small.”

The jab landed exactly where it was meant to, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth curled. A breathless sound escaped as you tossed the condom across the room without another thought.

Rafe was already leaning in, his mouth catching yours before you could say anything, one hand sliding behind your neck while the other gripped your thigh, pulling you closer.

The kiss turned fast. Messy. His teeth scraped your bottom lip as his tongue pushed deeper. He moved with you, climbing back onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he adjusted his hold. 

You shifted with him, bodies tangling, lips never separating as you both pushed further into the sheets. His hands roamed without pause, sliding up under your shirt, over your stomach, each touch making your breath catch against his mouth.

Your shirt was gone a moment later, pulled over your head and flung somewhere near the pillows. His hands were already moving lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down, leaving only the thin stretch of your panties behind.

You reached for him next, tugging at the fabric clinging to his chest until he leaned back just enough for you to strip it off. The cotton slid away, revealing muscle and the sharp lines that cut down his stomach. Your fingers trailed over his skin, slow at first, then lower, finding his belt.

Rafe watched you the whole time, smug and silent, while you worked him out of every layer. The buckle clinked under your touch, his pants dragging down his legs before hitting the floor with a thud. His boxers followed, and then he was bare in front of you.

When your gaze dropped, the air caught in your throat.

He was hard already, thick and full, the flushed head slick against his stomach. It sat heavy between you, impossible to ignore, and even harder to forget. You didn’t need to say it—one look and it was obvious.

That condom wouldn’t have stood a chance.

You glanced back up at him, jaw tight with the effort not to react, not to give him the satisfaction. But it was too late. He was already smirking, that same cocky tilt to his mouth that said it all.

Told you so.

His voice came next, low and rough—

“Turn around.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

You moved fast, quicker than you ever had in your ex’s bed. Your knees sank into the mattress as you turned to face the headboard, hands bracing against the cool sheets. You arched your back just enough, offering more, and behind you, you heard him exhale through his teeth. The sound was sharp, guttural, and it only made your stomach coil tighter.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand, to the phone propped perfectly in place. The screen reflected the shape of your body, the silhouette of Rafe moving behind you. His hand slid along your waist, steadying you as the other slipped lower, hooking your panties to the side before he lined himself up.

The head of his cock pressed against your entrance—just barely—before he pushed in hard, burying himself to the hilt.

The stretch of him ripped a broken moan from your throat, your arms buckling under the weight of it. He didn’t give you time to adjust, didn’t pull out slow—just gripped your waist tighter and fucked into you like he meant it.

“Shit,” he groaned, voice roughening against the sound of skin on skin. “I knew you’d be this good. Knew it every damn time you looked at me and didn’t say a word.”

You whimpered into the air, thighs trembling under him, the friction almost too much and the praise making it worse. Your hands scrambled for traction, clutching the sheets, but he held you steady, rhythm merciless.

“You’re taking it so well,” he gritted out, hips pounding into yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You moaned louder, head dropping forward. Each thrust pulsed through every nerve, your breath stuttering as your body hovered between pain and pleasure, desperate to keep up with him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice sharp now, pitched just enough to carry. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you back into every stroke. “No wonder you’re so pissed all the time.”

You thought he was talking to you at first—until his next one hit.

“Pussy like this, and you still couldn’t keep her?”

Your brows pulled together. Confused. Caught halfway between breathless and blank. Then your eyes slid sideways—back to the camera.

And there he was.

Rafe.

Looking dead into the lens.

You gasped, the realization crawling up your spine faster than his rhythm. Dizzying. Raw.

He wasn’t talking to you.

He was talking to your ex. No shame. No hesitation.

“I’d be mad too,” Rafe said, voice thick. His eyes stayed locked on the lens, mouth curling into something dark. “Had all this and fucked it up.”

His hips never slowed. Never faltered.

He kept driving into you, hard and wet and ruthless, every thrust hitting deep, every snap of his hips landing like a full-stop.

Like he meant every single word.

Rafe leaned forward, his chest brushing your back, breath hot against your ear.

“Bet he never fucked you like this, huh?”

The words scraped down your spine, low and ragged, grinding straight into the center of you.

A soft, broken sound slipped from your throat as your eyes fluttered shut, jaw going slack. His voice, the snap of his hips against your ass, the wet drag of friction between your thighs—it all filled the room in a way you couldn’t escape.

“All that time he spent whining about me…” Rafe grunted, driving into you harder. “And he couldn’t even make you come right.”

Your moan cracked open at the end, wrecked and raw. “Rafe—fuck.”

“That’s right,” he said, voice rough with grit. “Tell him, pretty. Tell him who’s making you feel this good.”

“Rafe,” you gasped again. “Rafe—please.”

He grinned, dark and full of bite.

“Louder. So he can hear what it sounds like when you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

And you did.

You gave him everything. A cry so loud it tore from your throat, echoing off the walls, wild and broken. The kind of sound no one could mistake for anything else.

The kind of sound anyone standing outside that door would’ve heard.

Rafe’s laugh followed, deep and cocky, dragging straight through your already-raw nerves.

He straightened up behind you, hands slipping down to your hips. Then he pushed you down into the mattress, arching your ass higher. A new angle. A deeper stretch.

And when he drove back in, it hit everything, sending you over the edge.

Your legs shook. Your mouth dropped open. You came with a shudder, the orgasm tearing through you in one long, overwhelming wave.

Rafe fucked you through it, hips pressing into you as your body clenched around him, helpless to the pace. 

He didn’t stop—not really—but the rhythm eventually shifted, slowing just enough to drag every motion out, grinding deeper until your breath hitched. 

His voice came next, thick with control.

“That feel good?”

You moaned, voice wrecked. “Yes.”

He leaned in, chest grazing your back again, his words brushing against your ear.

“Better than him?”

You lifted your head, voice cutting through the noise loud enough for the camera to catch it. The sound that left you was half a moan, half a laugh—mocking and undone all at once.

“So much better.”

Rafe looked straight into the lens, a slow smirk crawling across his lips. No guilt. No apology. Just a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and who he was doing it to.

He didn’t break eye contact with the camera as he buried himself in you over and over, your body jolting with every deep thrust. His fingers dug in harder, holding you in place, forcing you to take every inch. You tried to breathe, to pause, but he didn't let you—not yet.

Because a real fuck didn’t stop at one orgasm.

And your ex?

He was about to learn that the hard way.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

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[sleepyjuice]

rafe fucking you before leaving for work

it couldn’t have been any later than 6 in the morning when you felt the bed shift beside you, followed by a soft, sleepy grunt. it was still dark outside, and rafe’s alarm hadn’t even gone off yet.

“baby, i gotta leave soon,” rafe mumbled against your neck from behind, his voice still thick with sleep. your back was pressed against his chest, his arm draped across your waist, fingers gently rubbing your soft skin from where your t-shirt rode up.

“hmm?” you yawned, eyes staying shut, but you were slowly waking up. it was monday, you realized, rafe’s long day. he would go into work early and not get back until late. you both hated it.

“won’t see you till late,” he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his hand rubbing flat against your stomach now, fingers lowering to graze the waistband of your panties, making you shiver, eyes fluttering open, but you didn’t turn around.

you hummed, frowning even though he couldn’t see you. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it, too. you slowly bent your knee, pushing your ass back against rafe’s middle, and you could already feel him through his boxers, hard and pressing against your ass.

“fuck, gonna miss you today,” rafe breathed, slowly rutting his hips forward, grinding himself against your ass. his hand dipped into your panties, two fingers sliding along your wet slit before gently circling your clit. “shit, baby, you’re already wet and you’re barely even awake yet.”

you whimpered quietly, lips parting in a soft gasp when you felt him. he didn’t waste time, knowing he had to leave soon, and pulled your panties halfway down your thighs, just enough for him to have access to you. he pulled his hard cock out of his boxers, rubbing his leaking head between your folds. he positioned himself at your entrance before slowly pushing in, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuucckkk,” rafe grunted quietly, one hand resting flat on your belly while his other rubbed slow circles against your clit. “god, you’re so warm and wet, so fucking perfect for me.”

your breath caught in your throat, a breathless moan falling from your lips as you shut your eyes, lost in the feeling of rafe gently splitting you open on his cock. your foot rested against his calf, toes curling each time he went deeper.

rafe continued to rock into you, slowly but with purpose. his breathing was heavy against your neck, planting wet, hot kisses along your collarbone, his quiet groans vibrating against you.

“rafe, please,” you whimpered, your hand gripped rafe’s wrist, desperately urging him to continue. your muscles tightening as he brought you closer to the edge. his fingers were working against your clit in tandem with his thrusts, and you didn’t have the energy to try to hold back and make it last.

you came without another word, crying out as your pussy clenched and fluttered around him, your thighs trembling as he fucked you through your orgasm. it was so slow and sensual, a stark contrast to the way rafe would fuck you when the two of you were fully awake.

“yeahhh, there you go, baby, fuck-“ rafe panted softly against your neck, his brows furrowing in concentration as he worked you through your high. “shit, i’m coming, fuck…”

rafe stilled inside of you as his cock twitched, spilling inside of you with a breathless curse. he pulled out about halfway before slowly rocking into you a few more times, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered little ‘i love you’s’ into your skin.

he finally pulled out, already missing the warmth of you, but he had to get ready to leave for work. he pressed one last kiss to your neck, then a longer one on your lips before pulling your panties back up, giving your ass a gentle pat.

“you can go back to sleep, baby. can keep my cum warm in there till i get home later. i love you.” rafe’s words were soft and sweet, yet filthy at the same time and your cheeks flushed, tilting your head to look up at him through sleep filled eyes.

“love you,” you hummed, already drifting back to sleep again. rafe stood up and started dressing himself, careful not to be too loud and wake you again. you hated that he had to leave, but it was easier when this is what he was leaving you with.

a/n: long time no see…. :3

i had a dream about this the other day and had to write it<3

[cameronsbabydoll]

he’s been waiting for this forever.

watching you for months from behind foggy glasses and shaky hands, jerking off to the thought of you with his earbuds in and a pillow clutched to his chest, pretending it’s you. whispering your name like a prayer, like he’s ashamed of how bad he wants it.

so when it actually happens—when you kiss him, when you pull him onto your bed, when you say “do you wanna…?”—he nods like a fucking puppy. eager, dumb, eyes already wide and blown-out.

he tries to act confident. really, he does. tells you in this shaky little voice,

“i-I’ve seen a lot of videos, I know what to do…” like it’s something to be proud of. like his entire sex education isn’t a pornhub rabbit hole and three reddit threads.

but the second you guide him in? game over.

his hips jerk forward way too fast, eyes rolling back as he gasps, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“oh god—oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck, i’m sorry, I didn’t—”

he whines. actually fucking whimpers into your skin, clutching your waist like he’s drowning in it.

"y-you’re so warm—can’t—can’t help it—feels s-so good, I—I didn’t mean to—"

and then he just freezes, pulsing inside you, biting back a sob because he came already. not even thirty seconds in.

he can’t look you in the eye. rolls off you like a guilty little rabbit, red-faced and mumbling apologies into your neck.

“i swear i’ll make it up to you. i’ll—i’ll go down on you, okay? for as long as you want. just… don’t hate me.”

he does make it up to you. tongue trembling, nose buried in you like it’s his job, moaning every time you tug his hair and call him good. (he cries again when you cum on his tongue. it’s kind of sweet.)

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ being interrupted by a phone call from bsf!rafe's girlfriend while sneaking around.

warnings — 18+ MDNI. rafe cheating on sofia with bsf!reader. deception. slight restraint.

cherie’s note — sugar talking by sabrina carpenter is so good, listened to it on repeat while writing this. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

god, it was so wrong.

the weight of his body pressed you into the mattress as he drove into you with that steady, deep rhythm he always found once he'd gotten lost in it. every thrust dragged a needy little sound from your throat, your body softening under him, hips tilting up to meet every push like instinct. your body was already gone for him — mind buzzing with the numbness of pure pleasure, breath catching, eyes fluttering shut with every desperate meet of his hips against yours. that perfect, hazy lull of giving yourself over to the way he fucked you, just like you always did.

giving yourself over to the way your best friend fucked you.

maybe that's what made it that much better — knowing rafe always chose you over her. they'd hardly been dating six months, and rafe had crawled his way back to you, addicted to the rush of adrenaline that came with the possibility of being caught.

his skin was hot against yours, his hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you open and spread for him, holding you in place like you belonged exactly there — in the same bed he'd probably been cuddling his girlfriend in the night prior. the slick slap of his hips against yours filled the room, the air thick with sweat, with the kind of intimacy you never should have had but couldn't pull yourself out of even if you wanted to.

rafe knew it was wrong. of course he did. the guilt ate him alive every time he saw his girlfriend the next day. but the way your cunt stretched around his cock every time he'd invite himself over, so warm and tight and welcoming — it almost felt like a waste to stop.

but the phone rings, it always does. it buzzes loudly against the nightstand, that stupid little picture of her popping up on his screen, and suddenly you're back on earth — eyes flying open, panic rushing in just as quick as the sound did, because you know that ringtone.

your fingers press hard into his forearms, frantic, tugging at him.

"don't—don't answer it," you whimper, almost a plea, shaking your head fast. "rafe, please... don't."

the buzzing cut through the haze, relentless, and you felt your stomach twist when his pace never slowed. if anything, he leaned heavier into you, hips snapping forward as if your panic only spurred him on. your breath hitched, your nails digging crescent marks into his flushed skin.

"rafe—" you tried again, but his chest rumbled with a chuckle that was anything but kind.

"she'll wonder why i'm ignoring her," he muttered, lips brushing your ear. you could hear the smirk in his voice, definitely finding too much pride in the mortified look on your face. the mattress dipped as he shifted above you, his pace never faltering while his arm stretched out toward the nightstand. you gasped, shaking your head once more as the slick slide of his cock made your body betray you — still clenching around him, eyes begging for him even as you whispered soft dismissals.

then the line clicked, and the call connected.

"hey, baby," his voice smoothed out instantly, practiced, almost gentle — except for the way he buried himself deeper inside you at the same time, forcing a strangled cry from your lips that he smothered by slapping his hand over your mouth.

your eyes watered, your chest heaving as he held you down and smiled down at you like nothing was wrong. like he wasn't currently balls deep inside of you, using you, while his girlfriend's voice crackled faintly on the other end.

"nah, probably just gonna crash at top's tonight," he lied smoothly, rocking into you with deliberate, drawn-out thrusts that had your whole body shaking under him. his fingers stayed splayed over your mouth, muffling the pathetic little whimper that broke free against his palm.

a cruel glint flashed through his dark blue eyes that said he was enjoying this too much — knowing you were so close to getting caught, how wrong this truly was, the way you writhed beneath him, pleading slightly.

"yeah, i miss you too." his tone was warm, syrupy, so at odds with the obscene smack of his hips against yours, meeting in desperation to hit the high you both craved.

your head fell back, shame and pleasure fighting inside you until it was impossible to tell which was winning.

because the worst part wasn't that rafe didn't stop.

it was that you didn't make him.

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

[rafesbabydollsblog]

Reader doesn't want rafe to pull out

☆Don't pull out

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / mdni, unprotected sex, edging, creampie, possessiveness, begging/whining, mild degradation

The room was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin, the sheets sticking under your back, your thighs trembling from how long he’d been working you. It felt like forever—Rafe fucking into you deep, steady, then pulling out just when your body was about to break apart, leaving you whining, shaking, desperate.

Your throat was raw from the sounds he’d pulled out of you, breathless whimpers and curses mixing with the groans slipping out of his mouth as he tortured you with every stop, every pause, every slow grind of his hips back against yours.

He’d been edging you for what felt like hours.

“Look at you,” he muttered, sweat dripping down his temple as his cock drove into you again, filling you raw, deep. His pace was brutal this time, determined to drag another orgasm right to the edge. “Fuckin’ ruined. My pretty girl can’t even think, huh?”

Your back arched, lips parting as your eyes rolled back, vision going fuzzy. You couldn’t answer—you could barely breathe through it. Your walls clenched around him, slick running down your thighs, and then—just as you were about to snap—he slowed, pulled halfway out, keeping you teetering on the edge without letting you fall.

“Rafe,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders, legs trembling around his hips. “Please—please don’t stop, I can’t—”

“You can,” he grunted, jaw tight, eyes blazing down into yours. “You’ll take what I give you.”

He fucked back into you, hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall, and your eyes rolled back again, lips falling open around a broken moan. His pace faltered—he was close. You felt it in the way his cock twitched inside you, in the way his forehead pressed to yours like he needed the grounding.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, hips stuttering. “I’m gonna—shit—”

“No.” Your voice cracked on the word, desperation clawing through you. You reached for him, whining, pulling at his shoulders, clinging. “Don’t—please don’t pull out.”

He shook his head, chest heaving. “I have to—baby, I can’t—”

You wrapped your legs around his waist before he could move, ankles locking tight. He swore, a ragged sound tearing out of him as he tried to pull back, but you wouldn’t let go.

“Fuck, let me—” He tried again, grip tightening on your hips.

“Don’t.” Your voice broke on a whimper, eyes glassy as you stared up at him. “Please—inside. I need it, Rafe. Don’t leave me empty.”

It was too late. His body betrayed him. His hips slammed forward, cock buried deep as he spilled into you, hot and messy, spilling more with every sharp thrust he tried to suppress.

“Fuck—fuck—” He groaned into your neck, shaking, holding you down as his cum filled you. “Goddamn it, baby—”

You moaned through it, eyes rolling, nails clawing his back as your own orgasm ripped through you at the same time, walls clenching around him, milking him deeper.

“Good girl,” he rasped against your skin, hips still rolling shallowly even as he twitched inside you, filling you to the brim. “My greedy fuckin’ girl. Look what you made me do.”

[scorpiossslut]

maybe something with stepsis reader coming back from the doctor and telling stepbro rafe her cervix is bruised and its ALL HIS FAULT or smth?? 🥵🥵

OMG YES!!! That’s SO HOT.

You can picture stepbro!rafe however you want, but personally I think fratboy Rafe pictures this perfectly. He’s just so gross and unhinged when it comes to his little stepsister 😩

Also, this is from his POV, because I think it’s kinda more… personal. More filthy. Hope u like it😋

She came back from the doctor with that look on her face. Pink cheeks, avoiding my eyes, fiddling with her nails like she’d been caught doing something wrong. I was already sprawled out on my bed, scrolling on my phone, waiting for her to give me the verdict. She’d been nervous about this appointment for days. Something about cramps, pain during sex, blah blah. I’d brushed it off. She’s always sore after I get my hands on her, and she always comes crawling back for more anyway.

But the second I see her bite her lip and hesitate at the door, I know. I know it’s about me. About the way I’ve been fucking her the past couple of weeks, like I’ve been trying to bury myself so deep inside her I could brand my name across her insides.

I toss my phone aside and sit up slowly, watching her squirm.

“Spit it out, princess.” My voice is already low, edged with curiosity and a little cocky. “What’d the doc say?”

She groans and covers her face with her hands like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew. “I hate you,” she mumbles into her palms.

That’s when I grin, leaning forward on my knees. “That bad, huh?”

She peeks out at me, her eyes wide and flustered. “I have a… a bruised cervix,” she says, rushing the words out like ripping off a band-aid.

For a second, I just blink. Then it sinks in. My brows lift, and the corner of my mouth curls. “A bruised cervix?” I repeat, letting the words roll off my tongue slow. “Huh… that right?”

She throws her arms up and lets out a strangled noise, half laugh, half groan. “It’s not funny! You don’t get it. She knows, Rafe! She didn’t say anything, but I could tell! The way she looked at me. She knows exactly why I’m bruised.”

I ruined her. I fucked her so hard, so deep, so often, that a medical professional had to sit there and see the evidence. That doctor looked at her, checked her out, and had to bite her tongue not to comment on the fact that she’s been getting railed into oblivion. And not just by anyone. By me. Her fucking stepbrother.

I can’t stop picturing it: her, sitting up on that exam table, swinging her legs nervously while some woman puts on gloves, checks her, and realizes exactly what kind of filth she’s been up to. My filth. Our filth. Her little secret spelled out right there in the bruising on her cervix. Every mark, every ache, every sore spot is me. My cock left evidence in her body that no one else could miss.

I laugh. I can’t help it. It rips out of me sharp and smug because I’ve never felt prouder in my life. “You’re telling me you went in there, let her take a look, and she figured out I’ve been pounding you so hard I left you bruised?”

Her face flames red, and she points at me accusingly. “Yes! And it was mortifying! She probably thinks I’m some… some reckless slut or something!”

It makes me crazy. Makes me want to laugh in her face and tell her she should’ve expected it. Because how the fuck was she supposed to survive the last week of me pounding into her, filling her up morning and night, without something breaking down? She wanted it too. Begged me for it, clawed at me for it, moaned like she was starving. I gave it to her the way she asked, the way she needs. Rough. Relentless.

I lean back on my hands, just watching her unravel, my chest tight with satisfaction. “Oh, she doesn’t think that,” I say smoothly. “She thinks you’ve got a man who knows how to fuck you.”

“Rafe!” She hisses my name, horrified, but it only makes me laugh harder.

I get up and stalk toward her, slow, predatory, eating up the space between us until she’s backed against the wall with nowhere to go. I cage her in with my hands gripping her hips, close enough to smell the faint trace of her perfume, mixed with the sterile scent of the doctor’s office still clinging to her clothes.

“You embarrassed that she knows I own this pussy?” I murmur, dropping my voice, my lips brushing against her ear. “That every time you spread your legs for an exam, there’s proof I’ve been in there wrecking you?”

She shivers, squeezing her thighs together, and I know she’s getting wet despite her protests.

“Don’t,” she whispers weakly, though her voice has that cracked edge that tells me she doesn’t mean it.

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “What else did she say?”

She swallows hard. “She said… no sex. For at least a week.”

I go still, my smirk fading. “A week?”

She nods quickly, her lip trembling like she’s afraid I’ll explode.

A week. Seven whole days where I can’t bury myself inside her. Where I can’t push her flat into the mattress and watch her body take me, can’t feel her walls pulse around me when she’s about to come.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

I already know I’ll cheat. Not with another girl. Never. With her. Because there’s no way in hell I’ll keep my hands off her. A doctor saying “no sex” just means I’ll find other ways to keep her needy and dripping. I’ll use my mouth, my fingers, grind against her until she’s shaking. I’ll edge her until she’s crying. And maybe I won’t fuck her properly, won’t bottom out in that tight little cunt until she’s healed, but I’ll keep her messy, keep her desperate. She won’t get a single night of “rest.”

“You realize what that means, right?” I rasp. “That I fucked you so much, so hard, you had to get benched by a medical professional. That’s how deep I’m reaching inside you, sissy.”

She groans, hiding her face in my chest, and mutters, “Stop making it sound like some accomplishment.”

But I grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes again, smirking like the smug bastard I am. “It is an accomplishment. You’re walking around with a bruised cervix because of me. No one else has ever touched you like that. No one else will.”

Her eyes flutter, torn between outrage and arousal. I can see it plain as day.

“Rafe…” she whispers, but it’s shaky.

I lean in, my mouth brushing hers without kissing her. “You think I’m mad about a week off? Fuck no. I’m proud. I put my mark on you so deep a doctor had to tell you to stop. That’s proof you belong to me.”

Her breath hitches, and I can feel her body trembling against mine. I know she feels it too, that twisted mix of humiliation and arousal, shame and pride, that only we get from this sick, fucked-up thing between us.

I drag my hands down, gripping her ass possessively, pulling her flush against me so she can feel how hard I am even through my jeans. “But don’t think for a second a doctor’s warning is gonna keep me from you. If I can’t be inside that pussy for a week, then I’ll use your mouth. These cute little tits… I’ll get my fill one way or another. And then, when your sweet pussy is all healed up, you’re not going to be able to walk for a fucking month.”

[scorpiossslut]

Naughty stepsis takes cock deep to convince her stepbro to forgive her⭐️

just thinking about stepbro Rafe and how rough he would get once he steals your phone and finds out you've been entertaining some guy in your school.

He'd have you on your knees in your bedroom, frantically thrusting his dick deep down your tiny throat, shamelessly using you and not giving a fuck that you're scratching at his thick thighs with your pretty pink nails and trying to get him to stop or maybe just slow down a little bit. Your eyes are wide and bloodshot with tears streaming down your chubby cheeks as you continuously gag and cough on his dick, desperately trying to get some air in your lungs through your nose.

"Yeah, fucking choke on it, sis. What, didn't you wanna be a slut? Talking to other boys and shit.

Fucking take it then, what you acting all scared for now?" He let out a dark chuckle, tugging so harshly on your hair that you could feel a headache forming.

You could barely see through the tears, blinking them away every few seconds, your nose pressing repeatedly into his pelvis. Not a thought ran through your mind, you were too fucked out for that. And he loved it. Nothing compared to the euphoric feeling he got everytime he made you all stupid, just a little toy to bust his nut in, no matter which hole he chose.

When he pulled your head back and his big cock slipped out of your mouth, you finally allowed yourself to breathe, almost choking with all the saliva and precum gathered in your mouth. The back of your throat hurt so badly that it made you cry even harder, and the sound was like heaven to Rafe, a creepy smirk stretching onto his lips as he watched you struggle and trying to get away from him.

"P-please, Rafey, no more! M' sorry! I was just bored, I didn't mean to upset you." You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would forgive you for being so stupid, for daring to speak to some other boy.

"Shut the fuck up, sis." He growled, smacking you with the back of his hand, your head snapping to the side and your mouth hanging open in shock, another wave of tears welling up in your eyes at his rough behaviour. You just wanted your sweet, big brother back, not this violent version of him. Even though you were no stranger to Rafe's constant mood swings, for you, he always tried to keep himself in check.

Not because he wanted to, or because he had some kind of soft spot for you, no. He just tends to try and be patient, playing the long game, complimenting your pretty outfits or caressing your skin softly, whispering sappy things in your ear and caressing every inch of your body, knowing that these little things always make you more compliant, more open to let him do whatever he wants with you. It pisses him off sometimes, having to work for it, especially when he's had a bad day and all he wants to do is barge into your room and have you face down ass up, without having you complain like a brat.

But no more of that sweet shit. You took his kindness for granted, and he wouldn't have that.

He was gonna take what he needed from you from now on, whether you liked it or not.

Besides, forcing you to submit to him was more fun anyway. You looked so messy and dumb that his dick twitched in delight.

Grabbing your chin, he forced your mouth open with his fingers, hooking them into your bottom teeth to keep you in place before shoving his dick back into your mouth, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You could feel every inch of him stretching you, and when you felt another gag coming, you tried swallowing around him a few times, the action making him moan loudly and roll his eyes to the back of his head as your throat squeezed him tightly.

"Shit."

He kept you there a few seconds, holding onto the back of your head to make sure you weren't going to pull away, an amused snicker slipping from his lips.

"Look so dumb right now. Acting like you don't like it when I have my dick in your mouth, but look at you, drooling on it like an A class whore." He smirked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back once again, drool connecting the tip of his cock and your bottom lip. You didn't even have it in you to complain any more at this point, just thankful for the brief moments where you could catch your breath again.

Rate hummed and tilted his head to the side, enjoying the view as he grabbed his dick and smeared your spit all over your swollen, parted lips with his tip, slapping your cheek with it a few times before slamming back into your throat and thrusting rapidly, having you gag and roll your eyes in an obscene way as the lewd wet sounds echoed in the room.

"My dummy lil sister is such a cockwhore for her big, bad brother, yeah? Don't worry your pretty lil head, sis, you're gonna get it sooo good tonight. Gonna fuck your tiny ass too, just cuz you wanted to be a fucking bitch and make me mad..."

[scorpiossslut]

hate hate hateeee having ideas for fics and they’re just SO GOOD but then u remember that english is not ur first language so it literally takes forever to write something u actually like. its even worse if u’re a perfectionist 😞

huhhh… struggles

[scorpiossslut]

Obsessed | r.c

Summary: rafe cameron doesn’t do relationships —but tonight, with you on his lap and his hands all over you, he makes damn sure everyone knows who you really belong to.

notes: this is going to be written from Rafe’s POV. thought it’d be something new💘. Also, english is not my first language so excuse any possible spelling mistakes. -anyway enjoy xoxo 💘🍒

warnings: 18+, sexual content, possessive!obsessed!rafe, explicit language.

𓆩♡𓆪

The second I step into the party with her at my side, I feel it. The shift. Every eye in the room lands on us like a fucking spotlight, and for once, I don’t mind it. I want it. I want them all to see her here with me, pressed to my side, my hand low on her waist, already sliding down to grip her ass like I own it. Because I do.

She stiffens for a second, embarrassed, like she doesn’t realize what I’m doing. Doesn’t get that it isn’t just me being handsy. It’s a message. A warning. Nobody here is dumb enough not to get it— she is mine now.

I drag her through the crowd, not even pretending to let her pick where to sit, hauling her straight onto my lap the second I drop down. She squirms a little, blushes when people glance our way, but I don’t care. My arm’s locked around her waist, my hand sliding up her thigh, fingers brushing high enough that I can feel her tense against me. Perfect. That’s exactly how I like her—on edge, aware of every inch of me pressed against her.

Topper and Kelce’s faces are priceless when they see us together. Shock. Amusement. Like they can’t believe Rafe Cameron’s actually sitting here with a girl on his lap like she’s more than a hookup. And the truth? They’re not wrong. I don’t do this shit. I don’t let girls linger. I don’t show them off.

But this isn’t just some girl. It’s my girl.

The way they tease me doesn’t faze me. Let them call me whipped, let them laugh. They don’t get it. They’ve never had someone who could walk in and make the whole fucking room irrelevant. She’s it.

She drags me onto the dance floor later, and yeah, normally I’d roll my eyes, refuse, say I don’t dance. But with her? I’m already moving before I realize it. Everyone steps back, watching us like they’re expecting me to slip up, like they can’t imagine Rafe Cameron actually doing this type of shit in public.

She moves like she doesn’t give a fuck who’s watching. Hips swaying, hair falling in her face, lips parted—Christ. She’s not even trying and I’m hard already, cock straining against my jeans just from the way she rolls her body against mine.

My hands lock onto her waist, dragging her against me harder, tighter. No space between us. Grinding with the beat until it feels less like dancing and more like foreplay in the middle of a crowded room. Every sway of her hips has me throbbing. Every flick of her hair has me imagining her bent over, moaning for me, the music replaced with her voice begging for me to fuck her harder, faster.

I dip my head and suck at her neck because I can’t help myself. Don’t care who sees. If anything, I want them to see. Want every guy in this room to choke on the sight of me marking her, claiming her. She gasps when my teeth catch her skin, and fuck, the sound shoots straight to my cock.

She’s warm against me, trembling a little, and all I can think about is how much I want to rip her out of that dress and bend her over the nearest surface. My cock’s pressed into her stomach and I know she feels it. She has to. That little flush on her cheeks tells me she does, and the thought of her squirming because of me, because I can’t hide how badly I want her? Makes me even harder.

I can’t stop touching her. My hands are everywhere—ass, thighs, waist—like I’m daring anyone to come close, to even look at her too long. She’s straddling my leg at one point, moving against me without even realizing it, and I swear it takes everything in me not to cum in my jeans like some horny teenager.

And the best part? She’s letting me. She’s not pushing me away, not rolling her eyes like I’m going too far. She’s fucking feeding into it. Looking at me with those pretty big eyes, lips swollen, body pliant in my hands like she knows she belongs there. She’d better.

The music changes but I barely hear it. My blood’s rushing too loud in my ears. All I can think about is how good she’d look on her knees right now, mascara smudged, throat stuffed with my cock while the whole house whispers about how I finally lost my fucking mind.

Because I have. Around her, I’m insane. Can’t think straight, can’t breathe without wanting more.

When I drag her off the floor, it’s not because I’m tired. It’s because if I don’t, I’m going to fuck her right there in front of everyone, and she deserves better than that. Or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she deserves to be ruined in front of them all, just so every single person in this room knows exactly who she screams for every day.

And all I can think about is how I’m going to take her home tonight, peel that dress off her slow just to hear her beg, then fuck her so hard she won’t be able to walk tomorrow. She doesn’t even know the half of what I’ve been holding back. The things I’ve imagined doing to her since I picked her up and saw her in that stupid dress that barely covers her ass.

And the second I get her alone? She’s not leaving my bed until she can barely remember her own name.

𓆩♡𓆪

The second the front door shuts behind us, I’ve already got her pinned. Back against the wall, my hand tangled in her hair, my mouth crushing hers. I’m not gentle. I can’t be. I’ve been fucking starving all night, sitting through that party with her grinding on me, letting me touch but not nearly enough. Like a fucking punishment.

Her lips part and I shove my tongue inside, groaning against her mouth because fuck, she tastes sweet and I want all of it. My free hand fists in her dress, yanking it up past her thighs and gripping her ass like I’ve got any patience left. But I don’t.

“Jump,” I growl against her mouth, and the second she does, I’ve got her legs locked around my waist, her ass in my hands. She gasps when I grind her against my cock through my jeans, already hard and leaking, pressing right against her pussy. She’s hot there, soaked through her panties—I can feel it, and the thought of her sitting wet on my lap all night, desperate for me without even saying it? Drives me fucking feral.

I carry her to my room, barely making it to the bed before I throw her down, standing over her like a predator ready to rip her apart. My chest is heaving, my cock straining, and all I can think is how bad I need to be inside her. How nothing’s ever felt this necessary in my life.

She starts to sit up, maybe to tease me, maybe to slow it down, but I’m on her before she can even breathe. My mouth latches onto her neck, biting, sucking, marking her the way I’ve been wanting to all night. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails sharp, and I fucking love it.

“Take it off,” I rasp, tugging at her dress. She fumbles with the zipper and I lose my patience, ripping it down myself. The sound of fabric tearing or her whiny voice complaining doesn’t even register—I don’t give a shit. All I care about is ruining her.

Her bra’s gone in seconds, panties next. She’s naked under me, spread out and perfect, and I have to pause for a second just to look. Her tits rising with every breath, nipples tight, pussy glistening like it’s waiting for me. My mouth waters. My cock twitches so hard it hurts.

I drop to my knees, dragging her legs apart, and bury my face between her thighs without warning. She cries out, back arching, and I moan against her cunt like I’ve just hit heaven. Sweet, wet, fucking addictive. My tongue’s everywhere—lapping, fucking into her, circling her clit until she’s shaking and clawing at my hair, begging without even using words.

Her thighs clamp around my head but I don’t stop, won’t stop, until she’s coming against my mouth, gasping my name like it’s the only thing she knows. Her pussy spasms, coating my tongue, and I lick her through it, groaning like I’m the one getting off.

By the time I crawl up over her again, I’m beyond gone. My cock’s aching, dripping pre-cum, ready to tear through my jeans. She looks up at me all flushed and wrecked, and it nearly undoes me right there.

I fumble with my belt, shove my jeans and boxers down, and my cock springs free, heavy and throbbing. Her eyes drop to it and widen, and fuck if that doesn’t make me harder.

“Condom,” she whispers, breathless, and I nod, yanking one from my wallet, rolling it on with shaky hands because I’m seconds from losing it.

And then I’m right there, pressing the head against her slick pussy, and it’s too much. Too fucking much. I slam into her in one thrust, burying myself to the hilt, groaning into her neck as she cries out. Tight. So goddamn tight I can barely move.

I give her a second, just one, then I’m pounding into her like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. The bed shakes, her moans fill the room, and all I can think of is the fact that she’s mine, mine, mine. My hands grip the back of her thighs, pushing them towards her chest and folding her in half easily, my hips snapping hard, ruthless. Every thrust is punishment for making me wait, every grind deep inside her a claim

She’s clawing my back, gasping, begging, nails raking, and it only pushes me further. I slam harder, faster, until she’s screaming, until her voice is breaking, until she’s falling apart around me again. Her pussy clenches, milking my cock, and I just lose it.

I growl her name into her neck, thrusting through my orgasm, spilling into the condom, hips jerking until I’m drained, until I collapse against her.

I’m sweaty, panting, still hard inside her even after I’ve come, because fuck if one round is enough. It never will be. Not with her. And if she thinks even for a second that it’s over, she’s dead fucking wrong.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Rafe fic,

Rafe makes you record all the times you guys hookup/ you pleasure yourself so he can look back later and got off to the recordings

a/n: 100000% something that he does

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

With the camera fast in his hand, Rafe hovered above you, swiftly reaching down to gather up your legs, efficiently folding your frame in half as you continued to fulfil his wish, before he stroked his fist silkily up and down his throbbing length.

As the patterns you drew over your needy clit caused you to pant, you swiftly whimpered, “please, Rafe.”

“What? What is it?” he smirked, knowing full well what it was you were practically drooling for, “you need this big dick, huh?” he murmured, tapping the hefty weight of himself against your puffy petals, making you nod wildly beneath him as he teased your entrance, zooming in a bit as he recorded your desperation.

And just as you felt his girth slip inside just enough to give you hope, the bright grin swiftly faded from your lips as a curse promptly flowed from his lungs before he pulled back out, only to stomp across the room and situate the camera upon the nearby dresser.

Rushing back with a vengeance, before you had the chance to even squeak, he had buried himself balls deep inside your cunt.

Crushing you down into the mattress below, he grunted, “that’s it,” before he caught both your arms and flung them around his neck, tangling them around him for support before his touch scooped down to cup your ass, lifting you up with him as he rose back up, “fucking take it,” wet smacks filled up the room as he cradled you in his arms, living out his fantasy and making you his personal pornstar, “take it…”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[bardotfawn]

pairing: dealer!rafe x bratty!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ mentions of weed / drugs, fem terms & anatomy used, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise.

NOTES ⭑.ᐟ you’re responsible for the content you consume.

WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ under 1.0k.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, and requests are encouraged and appreciated 🐆

you came over for some weed.

that’s all it was, just a needy little craving for some greens, something that’d take the edge off of your workload— except you didn’t have the money.

you came over, skirt way too short, lips too shiny, and pockets empty. it didn’t take long for rafe to realize this fact, realizing he was either gonna have to cut you off or let you have it for free, no biggie, right?

that’s not what you had in mind, though.

instead, you sunk your knees into the soft carpet beneath you, tugging his leather belt out of the loops in his jeans, kissing your way down his happy trail, pulling his boxers down, then—

“jesus christ.”

his voice was rough, gravelly in that way you loved, his fingers tangled in your hair as your tongue swiped over his slit, licking the precum off of his warm skin. his hands were twisted in your hair, smoothing your hair back from your forehead, watching your cheeks hollow as spit dribbled from your lips.

“that’s it, baby,” he mumbled, easing more of him into your mouth as he breathed, his chest rising and falling. “suck it like that, baby— take it down your throat.”

you moaned around his cock, your nose brushing the trimmed hair at the base of him, your eyes searching his from beneath your lashes, watching the way he breathed heavily through his nose. he held his hand against the back of your head, moving your mouth up and down on him, groaning at the pace he was setting.

“m’gonna cum, baby.” he mumbled, letting out another groan as he held your hair in both hands. “you’ll take it, won’t you? take my cum down that throat like a good girl, yeah?”

you moaned around his cock, nodding your head with glimmering eyes, tears clumping up your lashes as you took him deeper. “mm—“

you sucked at him harder, hollowing your cheeks even more than before, your tongue sliding over the veins on the underside of his cock, until—

“fuckkk.”

he groaned, hot ropes shooting into your mouth and down your throat, humming happily around him as your eyes searched his face. you stayed there for a brief moment, pulling off of him and wiping the spit from your lips, a hum leaving your lips.

“so, can i get the weed?” you hummed, leaning back on your knees as a grin tugged at your lips, watching his chest heave.

he let out another groan, bending his torso over, gripping onto your jaw with a rough hand. “you get all the damn weed in the world.” he mumbled, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, groaning as he tasted himself on your tongue.

© bardotfawn . copying or plagiarizing my work is not permitted.

[bonesofall]

cw. porn with plot, sex work industry, toxicity, allusions to violence, huge size kink, breeding kink, graphic smut

masterlist

as a sex worker you'd be really hurt and insecure when out of nowhere you're the only one who's not getting called on for private sessions. you used to be one of the most popular ones, so why is that huge, grimy guy with biceps nearly the size of melons and tattoos the only one doing your sessions? surely he hasn’t paid your boss to steer customers away from you. he definitely didn't threaten to bash the head in of anyone who tried to have a go at you...right? right?

you can't really complain, can you? you're getting tipped a fortune for each session with a man who only wants to pleasure you and pillowtalk, saying things about how you're the best thing that's ever happened to him and how he wants you and only, and all you have to do is enjoy it and reply with whatever he wants to hear.

but he doesn’t want anything, not really. he undresses you slow, gives you long, sloppy kisses while he thrusts into you. you don't do anything but take it, let him fold you around and leave lovebites on you. then he pulls you into his chest afterward and murmurs things into your hair while having a round of cuddle fucking.

it’s not like anything you’ve had before with clients, or even in real life. there’s nothing selfish about him. he doesn’t slam himself into you like a beast, or grab your head and force your mouth on his cock greedily, trying to get his money's worth. he makes love to you like you’re married. he always kisses you before anything else, with purpose. both hands on your face, thumbs dragging softly across your cheekbones, mouth coaxing yours open.

he lays you down like you’re delicate; he thinks you deserve silk sheets and candlelight instead of dirty linens and hourly bookings. he whispers shit in your ear, calling you sweetheart, precious, baby...his.

moreover, his cock is insane. freakish, even. so fucking heavy and thick, with a blunt, flushed head that stretches you way past where you’re supposed to go. and even soft, it’s bigger than most guys at their hardest. but when he's at his full size...

when he lines himself up and holds you open with those huge hands, there’s this second of panic because no matter how many times he’s had you, or how wet you are, or how much prep he’s given you; it never looks like it’s going to fit.

it’s too long, too wide, veiny and obscene, drooling pearly strings of arousal, twitching against your folds like it knows it’s about to wreck you.

he always pushes in slowly, inch by inch. his face is scrunched up with effort to hold himself back from slamming in all at once, whereas you're wriggling and already feeling stuffed with a third of his cock in you.

you feel everything, every ridge, every twitch, every throb. he splits you open and then keeps going. you claw at his back, panting, blinking through tears while he shushes you and kisses your cheek affectionately. a gesture saying "don't worry" about the overwhelming size of him forcing your body to take him.

“so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, “you're squeezin’ me so hard, feels like you don’t wanna let go.”

but the worst is when he finishes.

it doesn’t make sense that there's so much of it. it's not just a few warm spurts and then done, he fills you. he jerks once, twice, and then just starts pouring into you. groaning into your neck, gripping your hips so tight you’ll have bruises, twitching while you feel it flood you. you’ve never felt so full in your life.

his cum leaks out around his balls and your hole before he even pulls out. he’ll still be inside you, balls still pressed to you, and it’s already dripping down your thighs. when he does finally slip out; slow, careful, groaning because he hates leaving...it’s messy. you don’t even want to look between your legs. he marks you in the most primal way possible, thick globs running out of you, coating the sheets in masses.

“look at that,” he whispers, stroking your hip while he stares between your legs. “took it so good. see how much you’re holdin’ for me? you're perfect.”