content warning: 18+ MDNI. campuscrush!raf x smitten!reader. college au. dom/sub themes. degradation. slight objectification. bl*wj*b. impact play. dirty talk. some praise. raf is even meaner. reader is down bad.
a/n ♡: welcome back mean raf truthers
part 1
You’re not sure how you found yourself in his dorm room after your little encounter.
Yet here you were, kneeling between his thighs with him patting your head, “Why don’t you show me exactly how much you love me, hm?,” it’s almost like his eyes light up at the sight of seeing you this desperate, your curious eyes gazing up at him. He nudges you forward until your nose touches the prominent bulge in his pants, “Show me, baby,” the nickname makes your heart stutter inside of your chest—him calling you that felt so intimate, as if you two were a real couple.
Your lips press softly along the zipper line, kissing up his clothed cock. He lets out a low hiss, giving you a loving stroke on your cheek, “Don’t be shy,” your tongue darts out, and you start nibbling on the material, his hand moving to the back of your head to keep you in place. You want to make him feel good—cherished—just like you intended with your letters. You’re beyond grateful he’s given you the chance to worship him like this.
“Obsessive pet just had to find a way to make me notice them,” despite the smug front, his voice already sounds breathy, your little display of affection making him strain painfully against the material. You can see arousal glittering in his eyes whenever you make eye contact, he looks intimidating from this angle with his gaze fixed solely on you. A total contrast to the charming sweetheart you see surrounded by people daily.
”That’s enough of that, take off my belt,” you do as you’re told, and he regards you with curiosity, wondering just how far you’re willing to go to please him. Your hands are trembling when you finally manage to pull it off, and get to unzipping his slacks.
‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ is a saying you always went by, and it turns out that it was right all along, because Rafayel is big. Far bigger than you’ve expected. Saliva builds up in your mouth just from the sight of it, “Been fantasizing about my cock?,” he caresses the side of your face, and you can tell by the prideful look on his face that he’s pleased with your reaction.
You waste no time, tongue already meeting his reddened tip, and he lets out a hiss. You swirl your tongue around it, lapping up the salty precum that is leaking like it’s the only thing you ever want to taste from now on, “You know, I love toys like you. The kind that thinks I’ll somehow become their one and only Prince Charming,” you’re momentarily stunned when his hand switches from gentle caresses to delivering a slap to your cheek. Instead of being rightfully upset with what he just did, it just makes you feel even more turned on, body tingling all over, “You think a few nice words would make me like you, baby? That I’ll inevitably fall for you?,” he laughs, loud and mocking.
He makes you take him deeper into your mouth, his tip almost touching the back of your throat before you pull back with a gag, “Uh, oh. Do you need me to throat train you?,” Rafayel scoffs, rolling his eyes before pushing himself back in, this time holding you in place as a string of spit drips down your chin. “Mh, good pet,” the praise goes right to your head, and you whine, “Yeah? you wanna be my pet, don’t you?,” of course you want to, you already act like one anyways. Following him around, leaving him pathetic love letters. All that is missing is a collar with his name stamped on it around your neck. It’s what a desperate slut like you deserves.
His hips lift slightly off the bed as he thrusts into your mouth, gags and moans filling the tiny room, his pleasure echoing in your ears. That’s what’s most important to you, the way his eyes roll back in ecstasy, not the ache in your throat or the soreness in your knees. Rafayel always comes first, you’ll always be willing to make him happy even if it hurts you. “Y-yeah, yeah,” as his jaw falls slack, you can feel a pounding headache start to settle in, but you don’t dare tap out, “Mhm, mhm. Keep being good for me.”
He finally lets you pull away for a second, admiring the mess he’s made of you. Teary eyes, glossy lips, dripping in spit. This is what you wanted to happen, otherwise you wouldn’t have pestered him with your stupid confessions for nothing.
He’s not as rough when he slides himself back in, his fast thrusts replaced with languid rocking against your tongue. His breathing has gotten heavier, and you can tell he’s close, but he can’t find it in himself to pull out of your mouth when you look at him all lovingly, practically urging him to give you the sweet treat you’ve been working so hard for. “Ah, ah—cumming, cumming,” he announces, shoulders slumping.
“Take it, take it, you stalker whore,” he moans loudly right as thick ropes of cum paint your throat, and you barely manage to swallow it all. When he finally pulls out of your mouth, your head is buzzing, the front of your shirt is dampened with spit. Rafayel steadies himself before muttering something, “You did well,” and if only you knew how dumb you look sitting here all star-struck, as if he can’t already tell you’re thinking ahead.
But before you can even say anything, he grabs your chin roughly, “If you ever, and I mean ever bother me again, you don’t want to know what’ll happen to you. Write your soppy letters, make up whatever fantasies in your head, but don’t ever think I’ll entertain this once more. Now get out, I don’t want anybody catching you near me.”
content warning: 18+ MDNI. stepbrother!caleb x f!reader. step-cest. toxic dynamic. dubcon. slight age gap (caleb is 21, reader is 27). hatred. resentment. threat of violence. angst.
You were dreading this from the moment you got out of bed, up until you heard the doorbell ring.
There he is, standing on the front steps, a smile playing at his lips. “Brother,” your face remains expressionless, the monotone tone of voice giving away your utter excitement to see your dearest step-brother has also arrived home. “You look happy to see me,” he jokes as he passes by you, ruffling your hair in a childish manner. You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, there’s nothing you hate more than family gatherings.
It’s not like Caleb did anything in particular to make you dislike him, it was just the circumstances in which you both were introduced to one another. You were in highschool when your parents brought him home, their expressions ridden with sympathy. Big, purple eyes stared up at you—and all you could feel was anger. Now that you’ll finally be out of their hair they’re just going to replace you with some pesky kid? Unbelievable. You did not get along with him, as a matter of fact, you did not even try to. You didn’t feel the need to act nice or regard him as your little brother, simply because your parents did not even bother to talk about their decision with you before bringing him home.
You don’t see him much nowadays, mostly on occasions such as this one. The atmosphere feels cozy, your mom’s face is lit with adoration as she watches you both, your dad’s going on tangents about the usual neighbourhood gossip you’ve missed out on. You only nod your head along to what is being said, too bothered by the prickly feeling of Caleb’s eyes on you, whenever you lift your head, he simply grins all giddily. “I missed you, sis,” you stifle a groan at his words, he always wants to be on your parents’ good side, doing a far better job at it than you ever did. “I’m so happy to see my angels home,” your mother chirps, and your grip tightens on the spoon in your hand, as you try to swallow down the knot forming in your throat.
After everyone finishes up, you notice your parents grabbing their jackets, “We’re going to drop by next door, they’ve invited us after dinner,” you and Caleb both hum in agreement, grateful you aren’t getting dragged along with them. You start cleaning up the table, and as you move the dirty dishes to the sink a plate falls from your hands, causing the porcelain to scatter across the floor. “So clumsy,” the unnecessary comment has you counting down from ten, “Don’t tell me you’re still tense around me even after all these years,” he bends down, picking up the shattered pieces with a cloth before throwing them away, “There, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
Oh, how considerate. As if you aren’t an adult able to take care of herself just fine, “Stop being so fucking weird and condescending,” you snap, glaring in his direction. “Condescending?,” he moves closer, and you notice how much he’s grown, practically towering over you now as compared to the time when he barely reached your shoulders, “Is that what you think I am?,” you almost flinch when his hands cradle your face, “I just missed my sister, is that so wrong?,” the word sounds strange on his tongue, something about it sets you off even more. Your back hits the counter as he keeps walking forward, entering your personal space, “What the fuck are you doing, Caleb?,” you push his wrists away, a weird sort of tension sizzling in the air around you two, “Stop it, you weirdo!”
You notice the tick in his jaw right before he grabs yours, fingers digging painfully into it, “You can never be nice to me, can you?,” it’s like a switch has been flipped, the golden son façade flying out the window. This time your temper’s really done it. He doesn’t budge as you try to make some space between the two of you, “Let go of me! Are you insane?,” your protest doesn’t seem to please him either. Instead of stepping back, he shakes your head roughly, “Shut up. I could snap your neck right here in this kitchen if I wanted to,” Caleb lets the threat really settle into your brain, loving the way your eyes widen when you realize what he’d just said, “Yeah, I know. It doesn’t feel good when I’m the one being mean, does it?”
“Look, I didn’t mean to lash out. I’m just having a bad day,” the worst excuse you could’ve used in this situation, “Bad day?,” he parrots, “Really? I believe you’ve had bad days ever since I first stepped foot in this house,” there’s a flash of pain in his eyes, looking down at you as if he’s the one feeling threatened. “All I’ve ever wanted was to bond with you, and you complained each time about how much of a pest I am,” you feel a sense of guilt overcome you at his words—he’s right, you’ve never truly taken his feelings into consideration as someone who is supposed to be his older step-sister. Never bothered to truly get to know him or show him an ounce of affection, all you’ve ever seen was your replacement.
“I’m sorry,” his grip on your jaw eases, “I’m sorry, Caleb. I mean it. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighs, this is the first time you’ve ever apologized to him without your parents telling you to. You really don’t want to waste your time on petty arguments with him anymore, you’re both grown adults now, and you should start acting like it, “You’re right. I should’ve been a better sister to you, you were just a kid,” you voice falters when his other hand begins to trace the side of your body slowly. Ignoring it, you force the corners of your mouth to lift up, “We’re both here now, let’s enjoy our time together atleast once,” he’s always wanted to see your sweet smile directed at him, it almost gets him to feel bad for what he’s about to do next. And you can’t even blame him, you started this, the apology he deserved to get a long time ago is meaningless to him now.
“Of course,” he places a kiss on the side of your neck, and you try to calm your breathing, convincing yourself Caleb is just a physical touch person who’s happy you’re finally showing some warmth towards him, that there is no ill intent behind his actions— until the soft kisses turn into his tongue leaving wet streaks across your skin, “I’ll show you exactly how you can make it up to me as well.”
colonel!Caleb makes you grind on his boot. || CW: roleplay, restraints, boot riding, inspired by verdant wetlands, 18+ MDNI
Pressure.
You're forced to your knees, naked, before the Colonel. With your hands tied behind your back, the metal of his necklace digging into your wrists, you have nothing to catch yourself with. Your face crashes into his leg.
"Silly girl," he chides, hooking a finger beneath your chin to guide your face up to his. "You're not supposed to touch me."
You whimper out a pathetic apology, but he releases your face to sit back in his chair, legs crossing.
"Since you want to break the rules, this will have do instead." He shoves his boot between your legs, pushing smooth leather against your throbbing cunt. "C'mon, take it."
You blink at the black tactical boot pressed against you then back at him. His elbow props against the armrest as he leans his head against his palm. He watches you expectantly.
Your legs spread wide to lower your pussy to meet his boot on the floor and shift your hips experimentally. The first pass gives a bit of resistance that makes you wince. The leather surface isn't slick enough to easily move against yet, but you keep going just like he wants.
Though you'd rather be bouncing on his cock instead. It strains against his pants in front of you, taunting you, and it's hard to take your eyes off him as you slide your pussy against his boot, pretending it's his cock. It's almost like you can feel the phantom of him filling you, keeping you satisfied, sitting deep in your wet heat. Your movements come to a slow halt as you attempt to lean against him.
He snaps his fingers twice. "Getting distracted?"
"No," you pout, shaking your head. Your arms shift behind your back as you continue grinding down, shifting your weight, rubbing against the rough shoelaces, using the tip of the boot to stimulate yourself against the hard rubber. The wetness leaking from your pussy is making it so much easier to rut against him now.
The stitching and edges catch against your swollen clit, and you swear you see stars burst behind your eyes as you tilt your head back with a moan.
You hear the groan of his chair. His fingers are curling around the armrest, holding back from grabbing you to take what you both really want. The sloppy sounds of your pussy sliding back and forth on his boot, making a mess on it, he's bound to snap.
He leans forward and your heart jumps, thinking he's finally going to crack. "Open your mouth."
You obey and soon after two leather fingers are shoved between your lips. It's bitter on your tongue, but you moan around them anyway. They stroke your tongue like an attempt to recreate what he'd do inside your walls.
"Close?"
Your attempt to answer comes out garbled behind his fingers while your hips desperately continue to hump his shoe like a bitch in heat.
His finger slips out of your mouth, bringing a trail of saliva along with them.
"Colonel." The title escapes you like a desperate breath. Your body tenses, wanting nothing more than to fall against his leg, rub your face against his knee, and cling to him as you come.
"Say my name."
"C-Caleb!" You cry as your body is finally sent over the edge. You gush on his boot, leaving a slick, creamy mess all over the black leather.
"Lick it clean. And when you're done…" His belt comes undone. "…I'll give you what you really want."
A/N — everyone thank @kisses-then-more for feeding me even more ideas for this drabble <33 as always, let me know what you thought and reblogs appreciated (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡ divider: @/cafekitsune
content warning: 18+ MDNI. childhoodbestfriend!caleb x f!reader. manipulation. possessiveness. hints of jealousy. p in v. breeding.
As children you two would always play a variety of games with the others on the playground. Hide-n-seek, Tug o’ war, Simon Says and House. The last one was Caleb’s favorite out of all of them. He always used to claim the role of ‘husband’ and make you his ‘wife’, pick up daisies from the ground, gift you a ring pop. He’s always had a little possessive streak running through him, promising you that you’ll have a real wedding someday, and that you’ll get to be his real wife! You’ll be his real wife only.
Then, middle school came around, and Caleb had formed a permanent scowl on his face whenever he saw you talking to other boys. He would grab you by the arm, dragging you away from them. “They’re not nice kids, why don’t you hang out with me?,” your bottom lip jutted out, because at the time you were unable to understand why you were being scolded by him when all you did was talk about the release of a new movie. “Or what, do you hate me now? Are you bored of me?,” his eyebrows were furrowed in distress, eyes wet. Your shoulders slumped, you hated seeing your Caleb upset. Shaking your head rapidly, you denied both of his questions. A clammy hand interwining with his, a soothing act able to settle his doubts.
By highschool, everyone knew implicitly who you belonged to. Always an arm slung around your shoulders, always two steps behind you. You didn’t mind it. In fact, it made a warm feeling overcome you whenever Caleb was near. You craved his presence as much as he craved yours, that ugly, green monster rearing its head whenever he was approached by another girl. It was stupid of you to even think about being jealous, after all, Caleb made sure that you knew he only belonged to you, the silver pendant you’ve gifted him on one of his birthdays was always present at his neck. A reminder of your possession.
During your time at college, he managed to convince you to rent an apartment together with him. Claiming you wouldn’t even need to worry your pretty head about rent if you do move in, and there was the added benefit that you’ll both be close to one another. Plus, you wouldn’t have as much fun in a dorm with strangers like you would with someone you’ve known forever, and of course you agreed. Why bother making other friends when Caleb is always here for you? He’s the only one you need.
That is how you found yourself bent over the covers of a bed, several years later. However, instead of the sticky ring pop, a beautiful diamond adorned your ring finger. “Told you I’d make you—ngh—m–mine officially,” he moans against the nape of your neck, his cock pistoning in and out of you. Once the wedding reception ended, he wasted no time in pinning you down against the mattress the instant you’ve both arrived at the hotel. Years of restraint unraveling as you both hungrily chased each other’s touch.
You have no idea just how much he’s fantasized about this exact scenario—his precious girl wearing his last name, being his on paper. “So good!—you feel so good, Caleb!,” you mewled his name so very sweetly, it made his blood run hot with need. “Yeah? Tell me how much you love me,” his fingers dug deeper into the softness of your hips, picking up his pace to hit that gummy spot inside of you just right. “S’much! Love you, love you, love you!,” you chanted those two words like a prayer, moaning it over and over. You were so desperate for him, your now dear husband.
Caleb felt his mind spinning, obsessed with the way you were getting lost in pleasure, “Mhm, I’m all yours. Fuck—want to breed you so badly. I’m allowed to, right? That’s what a husband should do,” he could feel the tight knot in his lower body slowly unraveling, wanting nothing more than to fill you up, “Say yes, c’mon,” his breathing’s ragged, thrusts getting sloppier. You nod your head eagerly, “Yes, please, please,” and that’s all it took. With a broken moan, thick ropes of cum paint your insides as you clench around his cock, your own orgasm washing over you.
He kisses your back and shoulders gently, stilling his hips, “See? I told you I’d make you my real wife.”
content warning: 18+ MDNI. campuscrush!raf x smitten!reader, degradation, dubcon?, lowkey lovesick!reader, college au, dirty talk, sort of thigh riding, raf is very mean ;(
a/n ♡: saw the new clips from his main story and i hit flow state.
Your back hits the wall and you see stars for a split second. There’s a lot of purple. Somebody’s holding you in place.
“So, you’re the little freak who’s been leaving me letters,” the sentence makes your heart drop to your stomach. He wasn’t supposed to know. You were just admiring him from afar, that’s all. You didn’t have the guts to compliment him in person, he already received plenty of praise as is, therefore why bother when you could just write to him, make it more romantic.
“No,” your voice is meek while he holds you up with a tight grip on your jaw, your cheeks squishing together painfully. “No? What is all this then?,” he’s holding up some of your letters in his other hand. There was no point in denying it or playing dumb then.
“‘That shirt looks gorgeous on you today’, seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?,” you don’t pay attention to the way he’s judging what you initially thought was a sweet comment, as all you can focus on is how close Rafayel is to you. You can practically feel his warm breath fanning your face, the musky scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as you breathe it in.
In any other instance you would be flustered that he’s addressing you, that he is even sparing so much as a glance in your direction. But those butterfly flutters in your stomach dissipate rather quickly, the embarrassment from your actions starting to flood in. His eyes trace over you for a split second, noting the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, before he lets out a scoff, “Didn’t expect someone like you to end up being both pathetic and a stalker.”
No, no, no. You weren’t like that. You just wanted to be nice. To make his day.
He traces your bottom lip slowly, mockingly, before he moves his hand down to your neck, feeling the soft thump of your pulse underneath his fingertips, “You don’t think you look pathetic?”
Your lips part when his thigh slides between your legs, the corners of his mouth lifting knowingly. Your mind was desperately trying to make sense of the situation at hand—on one side he was practically making fun of you and your behaviour, while on the other he was touching you far too inappropriately. Playing out a scenario you could’ve only dreamed about.
“I think you do. Your heart’s about to burst and I haven’t even done anything yet. You really do like me that much, huh, sweetheart?”
He suddenly squeezes the sides of your throat, drinking in the whimper that leaves your mouth. Pupils blown, he fixates on the small, wet patch beginning to form on his pants, as you shift your hips, progressively picking up the pace. Quiet moans falling from your lips. How cute.
“Hah, a little stalker also ending up being a slut, how exciting,” he savors the way you rut against him, as you forget all the apologies and excuses you’ve had on the tip of your tongue when he cornered you. It’s so funny to him how easily he can make someone go dumb, especially ‘fans’ like you who don’t know any better.
