i’m a taurus, 5’8, a ginger, and use she/they pronouns. i’m also bisexual and i’m obsessed with the ocean and moon. i love scary movies and get obsessions very quickly.
masterlist links
won’t write!
who i write
simp’s house (march 15-april 1, 2023)
rules:
- don’t be homophobic, racist, transphobic, or a shitty person on my page. treat people with kindness and any hate speech will not be tolerated.
- 16+ for smut
- please don’t rush me with writing! i write when i get motivation and i’m not perfect, but i try really hard to get all requests done for you guys
- DO NOT REPOST MY STUFF TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION!!! please ask, i’ll probably say yes.
divider by bernardsbendystraws
i appreciate and love every single one of you. thank you for any and all support, it really makes me happy.
warnings ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა : oral ( f rec. ) , bluecollar!rafe ( dada mannn )
you loved to watch bluecollar!rafe eat . . .
yes, i know that sounds weird, because why would you like watching your husband eat? but here's the thing about him, he always ate like the food was gonna run away from him.
you noticed—well, it was hard not to—on your first date. he was quite literally scarfing down the plate within milliseconds of the food being served.
and no, you were not taking your food home because once you placed your fork down, you practically read his mind. "you want the rest?" you didn't mind, simply because you found his big appetite endearing.
to be honest, you found it hot too . . .
like just imagine rafe being exhausted after being out in the summer heat from sunrise to sunset. his skin was slightly flushed from sunburn, probably in an airy white tee and shorts.
but then he begins eating like he's been starved, despite the plethora of food you packed in his huge lunchbox before he left.
large, rugged hands gripping the spoon handle like a vice, completely dwarfing the utensil. both elbows are planted on the table as he hunches over his plate. he doesn't let any exaggerated sounds escape as he inhales his meal like a vacuum cleaner.
so just having this beefy man at your dinner table had you wondering one thing: if he eats like that, imagine how he eats cat. & boy did he eat it well . . .
everything was wet. your pussy, inner thighs, rafe’s face, and even the sheets below you. yet that only spurred your husband on because he could and would make you wetter.
“rafey, m’sensitve now,” you’d mewl, digging your head deeper into your pillow.
when rafe was between your thighs, he was a man of few words, only grunting or letting out raspy moans to your taste. continuing to slurp down your pussy juices like his day starved him from being saturated in your slick.
he’d suckle on your clit in a way that had your thighs tensing around his head and your toes pointing into the air. sometimes he’d even have his teeth lightly graze your nub when you’d get too rowdy. “let me eat,” he murmured, circling your dripping entrance before dipping his tongue into your heat to receive more of that sugary sap you flooded his mouth with.
and when he felt your velvety insides get warmer, he immediately tilted his head and flattened his tongue against your pussy, ready for your cunt to splatter that sticky cream of yours onto his taste buds.
& cream you did. once you felt that muffled “cum for me,” vibrate against your throbbing pussy, your thighs trembled around his head. your cunny pulsing rhythmically around his tongue, because of course, he wasn’t moving until he licked up every drop you gave him.
when rafe finally let up, you’d watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his arm, mirroring his actions from dinner . . .
so yeah, having a husband with a big appetite meant he had an even bigger appetite when it came to you :3
rafe is the type of guy to spit on your pussy while fucking you in missionary.
your thighs pressed up to your chest, his rough fingers pressing under your knees to keep you spread for him. his cock practically splitting you in half—your moans and the wet squelching of your cunt make him press in deeper.
“squeezin’ me tight, baby,” he rasps out, hips slowing to a teasing grind to let you feel every drag of his cock against your soaking walls. his eyes greedily take in every inch of you, just like you’re greedily taking every inch of him. “hold yourself open for me.”
your hands replace his in seconds, nails digging into the skin, leaving little crescents. he lets one hand slide across your inner thigh, calloused thumb brushing against your neglected clit teasingly just to watch your hips jerk up. a smirk tugs at his lips as he watches as your puffy folds suck him, brushing over your clit again.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he’s teasing you now, enjoying the fact that you’re desperate for his cock. he stills completely, your hips bucking up, trying to urge him to move again, but he doesn’t. “eager girl,” he coos down at you, thumbs dancing around where your cunt is wrapped around him.
instead of moving again, he leans forward, gathering a nice big glob of spit on his tongue. rafe lets the warm spit drop onto your sensitive nub, your walls constricting tighter like a vise. “my little freak liked that, hm?” he snickers, thumb rubbing the saliva into your clit in tight circles. “aight, i guess i’ll be nice and fuck you properly.”
MILITARY!RAFE who keeps a polaroid picture of you tucked inside his wallet behind his military ID, the edges are worn from how often he looks at it. the kind of man who rereads your letters late at night when everyone else is asleep, smiling to himself at the little hearts you draw beside your name.
MILITARY!RAFE who calls you whenever he can just to hear your voice, even if you spend the entire phone call rambling about drama and gossip or even what you baked that morning. he will quietly listen while laying in his bunk with tired sleepy eyes, thinking about coming home to you the entire time.
MILITARY!RAFE who comes home softer with you than anyone else expects. he pulls you into his lap the second he sees you again, burying his face in your neck like he needs to remind himself that you’re real. the kind of man who sleeps better with your bodies tangled together.
MILITARY!RAFE who buys you little things whenever he’s away because everything reminds him of you. tiny trinkets from different countries, pretty jewelry you’d like, postcards, anything he thinks would make you smile. always bringing you back something no matter where he goes.
MILITARY!RAFE who acts all tough until you kiss him goodbye before deployment. you realize he’s suddenly holding onto your waist a little tighter, kissing you slower, quieter, teary eyes. he’s the type of man who carries thoughts of you through every lonely night away from home.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who apologizes for things that aren’t his fault—bumping into someone, talking too long, even existing in someone’s space.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who gets quiet when he’s overwhelmed, not cold—just processing, thinking, trying to say the right thing instead of the easiest one.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who keeps a perfectly organized laptop—folders, color-coded notes, everything labeled—because chaos stresses him out more than he’ll admit.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who doesn’t realize when someone’s flirting with him, but immediately notices when someone’s upset and doesn’t know how to fix it.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who is a virgin when he meets his girl.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who listens—really listens—like what you’re saying matters, like he’s filing it away for later, like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail about you.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who speaks softly, even when he’s right, like he’s trying not to make anyone feel stupid—even when he easily could.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who gets attached slowly but deeply, the kind that doesn’t leave once it’s there.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who freezes for a second when given direct instructions, not because he doesn’t understand—but because he wants to do it exactly right.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who thrives on praise in a way he doesn’t fully recognize—his focus sharpening instantly when he hears a soft “good” or “that’s right.”
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who gets hard when his girl wears his glasses or knows about one of his interests.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who doesn’t push back, even when he probably should—more comfortable following than leading, especially with someone he trusts.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who gets nervous with eye contact, but once he holds it, he doesn’t look away first.
NERD!RAFE CAMERON ⟡ who watches porn not for his pleasure, but to learn how to please his girl.
18+ MDNI — protected piv , vanilla , soft!rafe , bigdick!rafe , swearing, nicknames eg ‘ma’ and ‘baby’. FT. RAFE CAMERON X AFAB!READER
“c’mon ma, it’s okay.” he murmurs gently, grabbing your hips and pulling you to hover over him. he’s looking up at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars, and it sends a shiver up your spine. glancing down between the two of you, you catch sight of his cock standing to attention, the tip red and swollen and desperate for any kind of attention.
tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you breathe out a shaky sigh and plant your hands on his chest to try and steady yourself, ignoring the way your chest tightens in anticipation. “i dunno if i can, rafe.” you admit after a beat of silence, glancing up at him to try and gauge his reaction. a part of you expects him to roll his eyes, to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. instead, he brings his hands up to rub along your arms, the touch grounding you somewhat.
“we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby.” you shake your head, running your fingers through your hair and shifting atop him. “i want to, i just…” you trail off, trying to find the right way to put your thoughts into words without sounding like a complete and utter mess. “i dunno, it’s just a bit overwhelming, i guess.” his eyes soften further at that, if possible, and he smiles up at you in understanding.
shifting to lean up on his elbows, he takes a moment to memorise your gestures, to figure out the best way to to put your mind at ease. “we’ll go really slow, ‘kay?” when you nod, he adjusts himself beneath you and swallows thickly. “just tell me when you’re ready.”
it takes you a moment, but eventually you nod again and wrap your hand around the base of his cock. even the slight touch has his mind reeling, and he has to hold himself back from thrusting up into your hand and ruining the moment completely. your hand doesn’t even fully wrap around the girth of it, and you blow out another shaky breath of nervous excitement. “okay,” you murmur to no one but yourself, manoeuvring to press the tip against your entrance. guiding your hips downward, your eyes flutter shut as you breathe through the burn of the initial stretch.
“that’s it. take your time, baby.” he whispers soothingly, his fingers flexing against your skin where the red on your waist, watching with hooded eyes as he disappears into you. a whimper from your parted lips draws his attention back to your face, his gaze flickering over your expression to make sure that you’re okay. he grabs one of your hands in his and squeezes reassuringly, his jaw flexing as he resists the urge to bottom out inside of you.
it takes another minute or so for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he does, you both moan in tandem. “h-holy shit.” you whine, cheeks flushed a pretty pink and hairline dotted with sweat. you can feel ever veining and ridge along his cock against your walls, and it’s the most euphoric thing you’ve ever experienced. whilst the burn is still there, it is only slight, and the pleasure overshadows any pain leftover. “move— please.” he laughs breathily at your plead but obeys without hesitation, starting slow until you begin to grind your hips against his.
his thumb finds your clit as he speeds up, the added sensation making your vision white. “yes, yes, yeah..!” you babble without pause for air, feeling stuffed full of his cock. “god, yes—” your whines fill the air, already able to feel your orgasm approaching at full speed. rafe spreads his legs to get a better angle as he stares at your face in awe, watching your expression shift and change with every thrust of his hips. “i’m close, baby.” he warns you through uneven breaths, his jaw slackening and his legs beginning to shake.
“fuck, me too.” you whine, eyes rolling back as you bounce your hips faster, the sound of his balls clapping against the skin of your ass echoing around the bedroom. “cum f’me, come on.” he mumbles, his other hand reaching up to pull at one of your pebbled nipples. that does it for you. your hips stutter and your legs tremble as your climax smacks into you, coaxing a drawn-out groan from your throat. feeling your walls spasm around his cock has rafe spilling into the condom without being able to warn you first, his hips thrusting into you one last time.
“shiiit.” he moans when you collapse onto his chest, the both of you panting like you’ve just run a marathon. it almost feels as though you have. “you okay, ma?” he asks, brushing some of the hair back from off of your forehead. you nod and hum in contentment, eliciting a satisfied smile from rafe. “good. m’glad you enjoyed yourself.”
warnings ໒꒰ྀི . . ꒱ა : sugar relationship , age gap ( 23 & 39 ) , mild nsfw ( p in v , cowgirl )
having a businessman for a sugar daddy was great, especially when he was rafe cameron.
an unwed man pushing forty, who lived in company-sponsored hotels more than his own home, with a lump sum of money waiting to be spent, screamed sugar daddy. so why not let a pretty thing like you occupy his time?
before every business trip, he’d hand you his black card, and by dinnertime, your bedroom was filled with shopping bags. & by the end of the day, rafe would have new pics of you in miniskirts n’ dresses to the tiniest lingerie sets, captioned: thx 4 the $$. see u soon handsome <3
& when you did see rafe, you mainly visited the country club, sipping on yummy margaritas while he caught up with his golf buddies. you learned to tune out their convos; i mean, all old businessmen were the same . . . stocks, golf, family life, & retirement plans.
other times, he’d accompany you to the mall as your designated bag carrier and bank. you'd force him to wait outside your dressing room, insisting he wait for you to give him a fashion show at home.
though your shows never lasted long because one minute you were posing in your new babydoll set, and the next you were being split open on rafe’s cock . . .
“c’mon sweetheart, gimme some sugar,” he’d tell you before greedily claiming your lips. you whimper at the immediate twang of cigars and whiskey hits your tongue. your needy bounces now turned into sensual grinds, allowing you to feel that raw girth of his jus’ scraping against your walls . . .
& honestly? that was the best part of your arrangement ❤︎
warnings ૮․ ․ ྀིა : language , mild nsfw ( face slapping , p in v )
rafe cameron liked eye contact.
like the two of you only began dating after you confronted rafe for staring you down at a party. in your defense, his gaze was burning into you like he was staking a claim.
stomping over and confronting him with a sharp "what do you want?" eyebrows furrowing when he only chuckles and smirks.
"can't look at a pretty girl anymore," you grimace at his corny attempt at a compliment.
if you're arguing, rafe's gently grabbing your forearm and pulling you towards him.
"m'talkin to you, don't walk away from me."
"well i don't wanna hear it," you spit angrily, looking anywhere else but him.
a big hand takes your jaw, tilting it to look him in the eye. "you look at me when i talk to you, alright," and you'd fold every time.
and during sex, eye contact was a given.
you close your a few moments? turn your head away? not happening.
'cause rafe's lightly slapping your cheek, instantly grabbing your attention.
"w—what was that for?" you sputter, gasping at the small sting.
"look at me when i fuck you,"he grits out, hips slamming harder into yours, forcing thick cock deeper into your pulsing heat.
and when you do, you don't take your eyes off him for the rest of the night because eye contact was key to your relationship.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » RAFE MAKES YOU SQUIRT FOR THE FIRST TIME.
"jus' lay there baby, yeah?" rafe cooed, pounding into you from behind, his hand bracing you on the small of your back. "gonna make you take it."
rafes stroke game is award worthy. he's rocking his hips back and forth, hitting all the right angles. "mmmmph" you sob out into the pillow where your head was buried.
"i know baby, i know." he comforts you as he thrusts deeper. you drool into the pillow as he drills you. "you like that dick in your guts? hmm?" rafe asks.
theres not a single thought in your brain. you moan in response to his question. "fucking answer me." he grunts, slowing his thrusts, making them deeper, harder.
"love it s'much!" you squeak out. he resumes his punishing deep, fast strokes. each thrust punching the air out of your lungs.
"can tell. your fucking creaming round' my dick." rafe mutters. he desperately tries not to look at where you connect, knowing he'll cum from the sight of your pearlescent cream collecting at his base.
after one particularly deep thrust you feel his mushroom tip thump against your sweet spot, over and over again. "that the spot? your fuckin' suffocating my cock baby." you nod feverishly, nearing your orgasm.
"cum baby. fuckin' cum around my dick y'hear me?" he thrusts harder and faster. the room now being filled with the constant sounds of plap plap plap plap.
"ohhhh" you shake, your vision going white hot as your toes curl and you squirt around rafe. "ohh fuck, s'so wet. im gonna cum, gonna-" rafe moans loudly as he plants one of his feet up on the bed to get a better angle, fucking you both through your orgasms.
his thrusts slow, before coming to a complete halt. rafe groans when he pulls out of you, his softening cock still twitching. he spreads you open as he watches your mixed cum leak out of you.
"m'sorry." you mutter, voice groggy from all of the screaming you'd done. "fuck are you talkin' about?" he sighs, laying down next to you.
"i've never- done that before. i didn't mean to-" you stutter. "are you fucking with me? that shit made me cum my brains out." he laughs.
➤ summary: Ward walks in on you and Rafe
➤ w/c: 1k.
➤ warnings: s!1 Rafe, heavy making out, really suggestive, getting caught, Ward?
masterlist taglist
The air in Rafe’s room is thick and almost electric—it had been since the moment you two stumbled inside, unable to pull away from each other. You didn’t even bother locking the door or closing the windows to not accidentally flash someone outside. Because he had you on his lap immediately, his lips sealed to your neck as if trying to leave a permanent mark there.
In no time Rafe’s shirt was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you had all the rights to fully feel him under the palms of your hands—the warm and silky, golden, sun-kissed skin. All while he trailed kisses back to your mouth, catching your lips with his, holding your head with one hand, and angling you just right so he could slip his tongue inside. His other hand caressed your thigh, sliding higher to palm your ass until your skirt rode so high it almost revealed your underwear.
You moaned into his mouth when he bit your lip, grinding down on his growing bulge.
“Fuck.” He muttered, already drunk off you. “You’re killing me.”
You smirked, feeling the way his hand sneaked under your shirt. It slid off one shoulder, your bra strap falling down the same way, until the low cut of your top showed the soft curve of your breast.
“You started it.”
Rafe groaned, kissing you deeper, fingers almost slipping under the cup of your bra to tease you just a bit more.
The door to his room swung open.
No knock. No warning. Just Ward standing there with a face that slowly shifted from something cold to surprise and then back to that disapproving look he always had.
You froze the moment your head turned to the side to face him. Your whole body locked in fear and embarrassment, while your heart dropped to your stomach. You half-squeaked and half-groaned, hands flying to your shirt instinctively, but it was all useless when it kept sliding back down because of your shaking hands.
You were painfully aware of everything—your flushed face, probably swollen lips, and messy hair, and your skirt still rucked up around your hips, all while your thighs were spread wide over Rafe’s lap. You felt exposed in a way that made you want to vanish and never ever come back.
“Oh my God—” You choked out, voice cracking, already scrambling to climb off him.
But Rafe didn’t move.
He just tightened his arm around your waist, keeping you still and secure on top of him, as he blindly reached to the side and grabbed the carelessly thrown blanket. The soft material covered most of your exposed skin, but it still didn't make the situation better—didn’t change the fact that you were straddling Ward’s son right in front of him.
Rafe looked at Ward lazily, more likely annoyed at the fact that he interrupted the two of you, then grinned from ear to ear like it was the most casual thing.
Wide and slow. Cocky as hell.
“Hey, Dad." He muttered, voice a bit hoarse. “You even heard of knocking?"
Ward stood there frozen too, eyes flicking from Rafe’s satisfied face to yours still turned away in embarrassment and then back to his son. He raised a brow in question, jaw locking tightly.
“Rafe.” Ward said low and clipped. “A word, downstairs. Now.”
Rafe huffed a laugh, dragging you just a tad closer, making you squeal helplessly and drop your head in the crook of his neck—now fully embarrassed and mortified at the same time. You just wished the walls of the room would swallow you whole so you would never have to look Ward Cameron in his eyes.
“Nah, I’m kinda busy here.” Rafe smiled, soothingly stroking your thigh with a hand that was still under the blanket.
Ward’s eye dropped pointedly to your half-covered legs, the movement of Rafe’s hand evident under the thin material—though, not that he actually cared.
“This—” Ward gestured vaguely at the two of you, bitterly pursing his lips. “—is not what I meant when I told you to get serious about something.”
Rafe laughed again, shaking his head dismissively.
“Dunno, looks pretty serious to me.” His head turned to your face, only to find you still hidden in his neck, before looking back at Ward with a pure challenge in his eyes. “My girlfriend. My room. My rules. Got any problems with that?”
Ward exhaled sharply through his nose, fists clenching at his sides. “We’re not done talking here.”
“Cool.” Rafe said, already turning his head to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple—right in front of him. “We can talk after I'm done here. Close the door on your way out.”
For a second it looked like Ward might actually explode. Instead, he just turned on his heel and yanked the door shut hard enough that the frame rattled.
The silence that stretched for a few moments was broken by Rafe’s low, absolutely satisfied laugh. You pulled away from him, feeling like your whole face was burning.
“I hate you.” You whined, throwing your head back. “I’m never leaving this room. I’m never looking at your father ever again, Rafe.”
He pulled your head back until your eyes caught his, a smirk playing on his lips, as his other hand started touching your legs again.
“Baby, you’re so dramatic.” He murmured, moving forward to tease your lips with his. “Never leaving this room, huh? I can totally work with that.”
“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.
wait genuine question like no hate but…do people actually get off on or like the thought of home-wrecking relationships. i see fics ab it all the time and it baffles me like i sincerely hope their friends don’t have bfs😭
I think a lot of ppl do that’s why cheating or homewrecking is a popular concept. Obv it’s not acceptable irl but if it’s fiction it’s just fantasy.
It could be seen as a competition thing — like having to be better than someone which could be a thrill for people
➤ summary: your and the girls' little trip into nature ends up in you getting hurt and having no other option but to call Rafe
➤ w/c: 4.3k
➤ warnings: fluff, mild injury, lots of tension, grumpy Rafe, protective and soft Rafe, best friend's brother trope
masterlist taglist
It was already past afternoon when the sun started getting lower and setting the wild trails far away from Figure Eight in that warm and golden color. The trees all around you looked giant and intimidating with the way they were moving softly high in the sky with the soft breeze.
You, Sarah, and Kie decided on a whim to hike out to the old lookout point near the bluffs—a spot Sarah swore had the best view of the sunset and where she and Rafe used to go when they were younger and the world didn’t set them apart.
JJ, John B, and Pope needed to do something they swore was mega important on almost the other end of the island, and knowing them, Cleo volunteered to go there and make sure that they stayed out of trouble. So there were the three of you, almost in the middle of nowhere, with backpacks full of snacks and water and, well, just too much optimism about the “easy” trail and a promising view at the end.
You all walked at a steady pace, talking about Sarah’s latest little fight with John B, while you looked around with awe and relished the peace and fresh air. The path turned rocky; the big roots of the old trees peeked out from the ground here and there. You tried to step carefully, looking down and not rushing to not trip over your own feet, but in one moment something went wrong.
You didn’t even know what actually grabbed your attention or why you suddenly got distracted, but the second you did, you felt your feet sliding down the slippery and moss-covered root, making your ankle twist in a way that shot a hot-white pain through you.
“Shit— ow, ow, ow!” You gasped when your body fell on the ground, almost in agony. Reaching out for the source of pain instinctively, you hissed when your fingers trailed the already swelling place on your leg. The girls turned at the sound, instantly crouching in front of you with worried and scared eyes.
“Oh God, what happened?” Sarah reached out carefully, hand hovering just above your leg so as not to hurt you.
You blinked away the sudden tears in your eyes, which appeared before you could even notice it. “I— Fuck, I slipped on something. It hurts so badly, and I think it’s starting to swell.”
Kie twisted your leg carefully, examining the damage. “Can you put a weight on it?”
You tried to place your foot on the ground, barely even touching it, yet your vision instantly blurred from the pure and agonizing pain.
“Nope. Nope, definitely not.”
The three of you stared at each other in dawning horror. The trail back to the main road was long, not to mention that then you had to find a way to get back home because you decided that a half-hour walk from Tanneyhill to here would be a great warm-up. A stupid decision, you now thought. The boys would probably take forever to get there, and by the time they would be able to find you in an unknown territory, it would already be dark.
Sarah stood up, pulling out her phone and biting her thumb while she was thinking. “I could call dad, but he said he has a meeting today. Rose… she’s like totally useless.” She hesitated, before looking at you with expression that you though was somewhere between guilt and pity. You didn’t like that. “There one other person, who can get here fast and who know the place…”
“Rafe.” You said it flatly, and she nodded, while Kie scoffed and rolled her eyes beside you.
Sarah winced. “He owes me, and he knows these paths better than I do since he liked to hide here all the time. Plus…” Her voice dropped, like she was not sure whether it was okay to say it or not. “He’s weirdly not awful to you. Like, he tolerates you more than anyone else.”
“Tolerates. Such high praise.” You snorted despite the throbbing feeling in your ankle.
But you knew that there was truth behind it. You and Sarah were inseparable since you both were twelve, and all that time Rafe had no other choice but to have you around, especially during sleepovers at Tanneyhill. He had grown up watching you two, always grumbling something about you being insufferable together, yet… not actually doing anything to avoid you or scare you away. Instead, over time he started watching his tone when you were around. When the random dudes got too handsy and weird at the parties, he told them to fuck off. Once, he gave you his hoodie when someone spilled a drink all over your shirt. Another time he gave you a lift when you had no other way to get back home.
He watched out for you—subtly, carefully, never letting you know that he was caring or paying attention.
He never explained himself, and you never asked.
So asking him, of all people, to come and play some kind of savior for you? Yeah, that seemed totally ridiculous.
“He will be angry. Or just laugh and ignore it.” You sighed, dropping your head back and trying to even your breathing when the pain mixed with the sudden anxiety started pooling low in your stomach. “Or probably both.”
“Yeah, he literally called me a weirdo hippie the last time we saw each other.” Kie rolled her eyes, plopping down beside you with a grunt.
You laughed. “And before that you called him a freak because you thought he was following us.”
“Okay, I’m calling.” Sarah merged in while she was walking around you with an extended hand and trying to find a better signal.
A few long minutes had passed before you heard long dials, feeling suddenly sick and, if it was possible, even more nervous about the whole situation.
“What?” Rafe’s voice came out sharply, like he was already annoyed with Sarah’s call.
“Hey, Rafey.” Sarah said sweetly, using the nickname he absolutely despised. “We need a favor.”
“I’m busy.” He said after a long pause, and you could imagine him rolling his eyes or pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We’re kinda stuck on these trails away from the Figure Eight. Y/N twisted her ankle, like pretty badly, and she can’t walk. Me and Kie can’t carry her.”
Silence, then a long sigh. You bit your lip, wincing and waiting for the worst. “You idiots. Why the hell did you even go there? After the fucking rain and without telling anyone?”
“Can you come? Please?” Sarah ignored his lectures, using her best not-annoyed voice. “We’re like… two miles away from the east access point.”
“Fine.” He muttered. “But if it’s a joke, I swear—“
“It’s not.” Sarah interrupted. “Thanks.”
He hung up the phone.
You looked down at the ground, weirdly interested in the grass near you, feeling that your face was burning with embarrassment.
Probably almost an hour later, when you already couldn’t feel your ass from sitting on the solid ground, while girls tried to distract you and cheer you up, you finally heard solid steps somewhere not too far away.
Rafe appeared around the bend, wearing faded gray shorts, a blue shirt, and that perpetual scowl. His hair was messy from the wind, and he looked like he’d been interrupted mid-workout—or mid-nap—and wasn’t thrilled about it.
He took one look at the three of you and shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable. You three couldn’t go for a walk in the neighborhood like normal people?”
Sarah stood up. “Hi to you too.”
He ignored her, looking straight at you, and you swore you saw the instant change in his eyes—maybe concern, maybe relief—but you could’ve just imagined that. He walked closer, crouching in front of you.
“Show me.”
You hesitated, but his eyes weren’t angry or accusing; you slowly and carefully lifted your injured leg off the ground. Rafe’s fingers, surprisingly gentle and careful, examined your ankle, touched the swollen place, then ever-so-slightly twisted it. You hissed, nails digging into your thigh from the pain.
“Easy.” He murmured. “Don’t think that it’s broken, probably just a bad sprain. You tried putting something cold on it?”
“No ice in the wilderness, Rafe.” Kie scoffed from behind him.
“No shit. There’s no ice when you’re irresponsible enough to go out here without a fucking first aid kit.” He looked back over his shoulder at Kie and his sister, making them both roll their eyes. Probably for the hundredth time. “Where are your other Boy Scouts, anyway?”
“They are busy on the other side of the island and couldn’t come.”
“Of course. Useless per usual.” He gently placed your leg back on the ground, standing up. “What if a storm rolled in? Or if there was no service?”
“Okay, we get it, Dad.” Sarah sighed, pointing back at you. “Are you gonna help us or what?”
“Not “us”, but her. You two can figure it out yourselves.”
“Asshole.” Kie grumbled.
“Shut up.” Rafe snapped back, but there was no actual heat in it.
Then he crouched again, turning his back to you and looking at you over his shoulder. “Get on.”
You blinked stupidly. “What?”
“Get on my back. Before I change my mind and leave you here.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs, mouth suddenly dry. Rafe Cameron—Rafe—was offering to piggyback you. The same Rafe who once called you “Sarah’s annoying shadow.” The same Rafe whose hand you’d accidentally brushed in their kitchen once and felt like it electrocuted you—you were scared to even look at him after that.
You swallowed. “I… I don’t want to hurt you. Or make it weird.”
He glanced over his shoulder again, blue eyes narrowed but softer than usual. “You’re not heavy. And it’s already weird. Just get on before I drag you.”
“I thought you were going to just…” You stopped yourself.
“Going to what?”
“…I don’t know.” You mumbled after a few seconds because, literally, what else were you expecting to happen? Him teleporting you back home?
“Mhm, exactly. Now move.”
You looked back at your friends, Kie with a frown on her face and Sarah looking like she was trying to hold back a smile and failing miserably, who then nodded in agreement with Rafe.
With a shaky breath and a grunt of pain you tried to swallow down, you shifted forward. Your arms tentatively landed on his shoulders, your chest just barely touched his back, trying to keep space in between your bodies. Rafe’s hands touched your thighs, then slid under your knees when he tried to place you comfortably and gently on his back to not disturb your foot.
He stood up easily, readjusting your position and gripping your legs a little bit tighter. You tried to stop the fluttering in your chest that made your neck and face burn from the skin-on-skin contact.
He made a frustrated groan. “You’re gonna fall off like that. Lean in, dumbass. I’m not gonna drop you.”
That was actually the last thing you were thinking about.
“I—okay.”
You pressed a big closer. Your chest meeting the solid warmth of his back. Arms slid just a bit lower—enough to loop around his neck, but not enough to choke or make too much contact.
Rafe nodded like he was still not satisfied with your position but let it slide just for now. He told the girls to carry your bags, follow him, and look where they were stepping in that annoyed yet protective way only Rafe Cameron could master.
He started walking, moving steadily like there was no weight on his back. Carefully enough to not disturb your leg or let you hit any low-hanging branches. Sarah and Kie were somewhere behind you, seemingly far enough that you could barely understand what they were talking about. The pain in your ankle was a bit duller now, or maybe you were just too aware of the situation, and your mind pushed it somewhere aside just for now.
The heat of his body seeped to you through the thin material of your clothes. The unmistakable smell of his cologne—something warm, woody, and expensive—invaded your senses. With the way you were seated, you swore you could see and feel the way his muscles moved with every step, making it way too hard to focus on anything else.
You tried to hold yourself still, your posture stiff and detached, to not make it seem too weird or too intimate. Because touching Rafe Cameron, being so close to him, wasn’t something that you allowed yourself to think about. And this was just a favor—nothing more, nothing less.
Just a few minutes after, your back started killing you from an awkward and way too rigid position. You wiggled slightly, pulling backwards, making Rafe adjust and grip under your legs tighter to hold you still.
“Stop fighting it.” He grumbled low enough that only you could hear it. “You’re yanking me off balance.”
“Sorry.” Your voice sounded small and hesitant.
“Just… relax. Lean against me properly. Wrap your hands tighter if you need to. I got you, I promise.” He said it a bit softer, barely slowing down his rhythm.
Your heart stuttered. Slowly, you forced your body to comply—you leaned forwards, now fully leaning against his back, letting your hands wrap a bit tightly around his neck with your fingers feeling the solid muscles on his shoulders. Your cheek rested on your own forearm just mere inches from his own face, in a position that gave you a perfect opportunity to stare at his side profile up close.
You exhaled deeply as the last remaining tension bled out of you.
“There.” He hummed, almost gently. “That’s better.”
You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Rafe.”
He didn’t reply right away. Just kept walking, pace steady. Sarah and Kie trailed behind, talking softly, giving you space. You felt yourself getting sleepy from the motion and smell that fully enveloped you until Rafe just barely turned his head. His soft blue eyes caught yours instantly, and with the way your heart started pounding against your ribs, you swore he could feel it too, because he was close—way too close to be innocent and normal.
“How’s your leg?” He looked away, focusing back on the trail.
“Um, it’s okay. Pulsating, but bearable.”
“You scared me there.”
“I did?” You furrowed, stunned.
“Yeah.” Rafe nodded once, voice lower. “When Sarah called me and said you couldn’t walk.”
“Oh… I thought I annoyed you.” You laughed even if admitting it out loud stung something deep in you—something you couldn’t name. “I thought you would be mad and tell us to deal with it ourselves.”
“You do annoy me, but like… in a good way. I wouldn’t leave you here, especially hurt, you know that?” Rafe’s voice suddenly sounded serious when he side-eyed you to catch your reaction.
You hesitated. “I guess now I do.” Your fingers tightened on his shoulder ever so slightly, and you swore you saw a soft smirk forming on Rafe’s lips before silence fell around you again.
When fifteen minutes later you saw a familiar view of the parking lot, Rafe suddenly shifted you slightly higher on his back, grip steady and firm on your legs. Protective.
“You owe me.” He said gruffly.
“Name it.”
The silence seemed heavy when Rafe hesitated to say something back to you. Your eyes studied the side of his face again, now a bit more openly, seeing the way he stared right ahead of him, yet it seemed like the answer sat heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
The trail slowly flattened out into the gravel of the parking lot, and you finally saw Rafe’s dark blue SUV sitting lonely under the tree and the fading orange light of the sky.
“Dinner.” It came out so suddenly you thought you imagined it. Your breath caught.
“Not like some fancy bullshit at the Figure Eight or whatever.” He added quickly, suddenly almost tripping over his own words. “Just something nice. Without others. You can pick any place if you want. Or I can. I mean—whenever you’re not hobbling around like a baby deer.”
It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a demand either. Like Rafe said it in a way that made an easy escape just in case you said no or laughed at the idea. Your mind just went blank for a moment, because there was no way he actually meant what you just heard.
Your face went hot, your brain suddenly very aware of how tightly you were pressed against him and how his fingers twitched under your legs as if from nerves.
“…Diner.” You repeated, slowly, catching the way his jaw clenched.
“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal, but you felt the tension in his frame. “You owe me. That’s the price.”
You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood. “Okay.” You said before you could overthink it into oblivion. “Dinner. Deal.”
Rafe didn’t say anything else, but you felt the corner of his mouth twitch against your forearm.
When you finally reached the car, Rafe let you carefully slide off his back. You landed on your good leg, but the moment you did, he turned around and lifted you up again—this time in bridal style.
You tried to protest, but the girls came into the view, talking about him being way too fast while they got in the back seat of the car, seemingly not paying attention to the position you were currently in.
Rafe maneuvered you slowly, opening the passenger door with one hand and placing you down carefully. He crouched beside you, adjusting your leg and making sure that you were comfortable.
“Try to not put any pressure on it.” You just nodded, because the words were stuck in your throat.
To make things worse, Rafe leaned over you, his shoulder brushing your chest, when he reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, his fingers brushing your thigh. Your eyes flicked up when your breath caught in your throat, and for a second he froze too, just looking down at you.
Your heart dropped into your stomach, face heating under his gaze once again. When Rafe finally moved away and closed the door, you closed your eyes just to pull yourself together.
He sat in the driving seat, and the car roared to life. The girls were whispering something in the back, completely oblivious to the tension between you and Rafe.
He tried to keep his focus on the road, not letting himself get too distracted with you. But your presence affected him in a way he couldn’t explain, and his eyes flickered to you every few minutes.
Your hand rested near the console in between your seats. Rafe’s hand, restless, found a place there too—close enough that you could feel his warmth. You stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the trees blur past. Your fingers twitched, and the next moment his hand touched yours—barely, way too timid at first. But when you didn’t pull away, his pinky wrapped around yours.
You still looked out of the window. No reaction on your face, even if inside everything was burning.
Ten minutes later he pulled outside of your house, and before Rafe could even kill the engine, Sarah leaned forward in between two front seats, looking at Rafe with a twinkle in her eyes. His hand shot away from yours.
“You should take her home, Rafe. Me and Kie will wait here, yeah?” She looked back at Kie encouraging her to agree. Rafe’s eyes bored into yours, looking at your reaction.
“Fine, but don’t touch anything in here. Don’t want you two rummaging through my shit.” He grumbled, unfastening his seatbelt.
“Bruh, wouldn’t touch anything with a three-foot pole. Don’t even want to know what freaks like you even do in their cars.” Kie’s face twisted when she folded her arms, trying to take up as little space as possible.
Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Shut up before I drop you off on the street and make you walk back home.”
“Could you both stop?”
Rafe glared at you, but neither of them said anything else. Rafe hopped out of the car, while you opened the door and tried to step on the ground safely, but he was at your side in a second—sliding one of his hands under your legs and placing the other one on your back.
You made a soft gasp, hands wrapping around his neck involuntarily to hold yourself back from falling.
“Rafe… I can do it myself. It’s not that far.” You protested, embarrassed that he had to carry you around for the third time today.
“Don’t want you to hop around like a flamingo.” He pressed your body closer to his, leaving no room for any protests from you. Your head dropped lazily against his shoulder in surrender, as you used an opportunity to stare at him again, and from this position you were able to notice the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. You nuzzled closer, hiding a smile.
Rafe reached the door in a few long steps, taking your keys and fidgeting with the lock until the door opened in front of you.
The house was dark and quiet; your mom was still probably at work and oblivious to your little trip; the soft scent of candles and something weirdly yours filled Rafe’s lungs, and he breathed in deeply like he couldn’t get enough. It was the first time he went further than the front steps when a few times he dropped things that you accidentally left in Tanneyhill.
You guided him through the house, insisting again that you can go upstairs yourself and meeting with the same response as before. Rafe finally entered your room, carefully placing you on the bed and looking around for a pillow to rest your foot on, but also stealing glances at the interior around. The books on the table, your heels on the floor near the dresser, a giant mirror with photos tucked into the corners of the frame, and plushies all over your bed. It was cozy, warm, felt so lived in, and tugged at something deep inside him—something that made him want to stay just a bit longer.
Rafe got the ice from downstairs, towering over the bed to arrange everything.
“Here.” He murmured, covering your ankle with a packet of ice that made you wince but feel some kind of relief at the same time. “Keep it elevated. Ice for twenty minutes. Don’t put any pressure on your leg, okay? You can text me if you need anything.”
“Okay.” You looked up at Rafe, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his hand lingering on your leg a few moments longer than necessary before taking a few steps back. “Thank you.”
The tension was so heavy when your eyes were locked on each other. You knew he wanted to say something more, seeing the way his lips parted and his hand flew out almost nervously to rub the back of his neck.
But then he just nodded, jaw tight, and turned away to leave.
Fuck it.
You moved before your brain could scream at you and convince you to stop. Rafe’s name slipped softly from your lips, the ice pack falling down on the floor with a heavy thud when you jumped up on one leg.
“What the hell are you—” Your hands grabbed his shirt the moment Rafe turned around, tugging him closer and down to your level.
Your lips touched his. Rafe groaned in surprise, stiff as steel against you, but the moment you pulled away and looked at him—embarrassed, mortified that you read it all wrong—he moved forward.
Rafe’s right hand held your face, the other one steadied you at your waist to help you stand on one leg. He loomed over you, fully enveloping you with his broad form, and finally kissing you the way he meant to for a long time—greedily, messily, like it was still not enough to satisfy him.
You both pulled back after a while, staring at each other and smiling the moment the reality hit you. Rafe tugged you closer, for the first time feeling he had permission to hold you against him and relish the moment.
“I don’t mind this type of payment, but you won’t wiggle your way out of the dinner, y’know?” He teased, smiling, against your temple. Your hands found their place on his shoulders and squeezed softly.
“Yeah, just… felt like doing it.” You whispered.
Rafe finally laughed, backing you softly towards the bed with a strong hand around you. He arranged everything again—your foot up on the pillows, ice pack—and then leaned over you, hands pressed on both sides of your hips, face just inches away from yours.
“Next time, just ask.” He murmured before kissing you again—now, slowly, tenderly, taking his sweet time to taste you. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay.”
When he left, you fell back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling of your room and feeling like it all was a fever dream. The pain in your leg was now the last thing you thought about.
Your phone pinged beside you with a notification.
Sarah: you two TOTALLY kissed
Sarah: he’s trying to hold back a smile, i swear
You threw the phone down without an answer, covering your face with both hands and feeling that you couldn’t hold back a smile either.
Maybe the day wasn’t as bad as you thought at first.
warning :: SMUT MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, high sex, foul language, riding.
content :: rafe is high, completely and utterly high. but goddamn, how good you feel wrapped around his dick.
a/n :: first smut i ever wrote.. kinda embarrassed… but i really hope you’ll enjoy it! english is not my first language btw, so i tried my best. xoxox
rafe was fucking buzzed.
the cocaine thrill was tearing through his veins, making him feel pretty fucking dizzy and insanely good at the same time, like his whole body had been plugged into a live wire. his fingers wouldn’t stop twitching, jerking in sharp, nervous spasms, as if he were a fucking time bomb about to explode and paint something bloody all over the walls. the world kept spinning around him in lazy, nauseating circles, his ears ringing with an ugly, high-pitched whistle that drilled straight into his skull. his nose itched like hell, an unbearable, crawling sensation, and all he wanted was to shove his fingers up his nostrils and scratch until it burned, until it bled, just to make it fucking stop.
the black of his pupils had swallowed the cerulean blue of his irises whole, leaving his eyes dark, glossy, almost empty, like deep wells. his mouth felt dry and pasty, his lips sticking together every time he tried to swallow, even his tongue itching restlessly against his teeth. his jaw clenched and unclenched without him even noticing, a nervous reflex he couldn’t control, and his heartbeat slammed hard against his ribs, too fast, too loud, like a drum going fucking insane inside his chest. every nerve ending felt sharpened, hypersensitive, buzzing with a sick, electric energy that made his skin prickle and his muscles tense, ready to spring for no reason at all.
but fuck, he felt so good. stupidly, dangerously good. he let his head fall back against the couch, throat exposed, eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow and uneven, as if he were slowly being swallowed by the cushions beneath him. the room blurred at the edges, melting into shadows and distorted shapes, like he was sinking into warm, treacherous quicksand. his mind floated somewhere between clarity and chaos, thoughts racing too fast to catch, laughter almost bubbling up for no fucking reason, while his body stayed heavy and slack, lost in that sweet, poisonous comfort he knew damn well could chew him up and spit him out, yet he didn’t care, not right now, not while the rush still owned every inch of him.
especially not when some cunt was wrapped so fucking tightly around him, clinging to his skin like a fucking leech, making his hips twitch desperately without him even realizing it. it wasn’t pleasure in a clean, simple way, more like a restless, burning pressure coiling low in his body, teasing his nerves and driving him half-crazy. every small movement sent a new wave of sensation through him, sharp and needy. his breath hitched, a rough, uneven sound scraping out of his throat, and his cock twitched like three fucking times inside.
“fuckin’.. bounce..” he managed to rasp, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. ah, God, look at those tits jiggling in front of his face, perky nipples looking right at him and probably waiting for his lips to wrap around them. suck nice and slow.
you let out a small, broken sigh of pleasure, the sound slipping from your lips before you even had time to think about it, your body reacting on pure instinct. your hips lifted on their own, chasing the sensation, before sinking back down roughly, a careless, needy movement that sent a sharp jolt straight through you. the feeling of his fat, spongy tip grazing your cervix made you jerk hard, a breath catching painfully in your throat as your sharp fingers dug into the solid plane of his toned chest, gripping him like an anchor.
“shut the fuck up, rafe,” you finally exhale, the words coming out low and strained, almost shaky, more breath than voice, before you start rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, testing the rhythm, letting the heat coil deeper in your belly. every small movement dragged another wave of sensation through you, messy and overwhelming, your pulse hammering in your ears.
the lewd sounds bouncing off the walls were unmistakable, wet and obscene, echoing back at them in messy, broken rhythms that made the whole room feel too small, too charged, too fucking alive. rafe was losing his fucking mind, completely gone in the haze, his senses drowning in the noise, the heat, the overwhelming feeling of your inner walls squeezing him dry. “fuck, baby—so tight..” his vision blurred at the edges, pupils blown wide, and he couldn’t even see your face in his daze, only vague shapes and shifting shadows, like the world had narrowed down to nothing but raw sensation and filthy sound.
his movements were sluggish but he managed damn well to grab the fat of your ass, blunt nails digging into the flesh, before making you bounce on his cock. up, down, up down, up down. his eyes rolled back upon the feeling of your walls squeezing the shit out of him, and he couldn’t stop slamming his hips up, burying himself to the hilt and hitting your cervix just right. “ah—fuck!” you moaned, arms wrapping tight around his neck.
rafe buried his head in your neck, breath hot and uneven against your skin, one of his hands dragging slowly up your spine, fingers slipping over the thin layer of sweat like he was memorizing every inch of you. his grip tightened for half a second, almost possessive, almost desperate, as he inhaled deeply, greedily, like your scent was the only thing keeping him grounded in the middle of his fucked-up haze. it was hypnotic to him, intoxicating in the worst way, a mix of your sweat that he wanted to lick off your whole fucking body and that damn perfume that always drove him crazy. “oh my.. God..” he groaned deeply, almost sounding like a raspy whimper. “ah—fuck, fuck—“
you rocked your hips even harder, faster, the movement turning messy and instinctive, your brows knitting together tightly as the tension coiled deeper inside you. “that’s it,” he snarled, slicked lips parted. you could feel yourself clench even tighter around him, your body reacting on its own, chasing that brutal, overwhelming rush that kept building in your lower belly. the pressure grew hot and almost unbearable, a thick, dizzying wave that made your breath stutter and your grip tighten without you realizing it, nails biting faintly into his flushed skin.
your vision started to whiten around the edges, the room blurring into light and shadow, sounds stretching and warping until all you could really register was the frantic beat of your heart and the filthy, slick rhythm of your ass colliding against his pelvis. “fuck, gonna cum—“ a broken sound slipped from your throat, half gasp, half moan, as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave.
the sensation of your tightness literally crushing him, sent rafe on fucking cloud nine — his whole body locking up for a split second as a sharp, delicious tension clenched in his abdomen. he was completely wrecked by it, cock still buried deep, breath breaking apart as the release tore through him in hot, thick ropes of cum, spilling inside your walls and leaving him dizzy and undone.
“rafe—” you started, your breath still heavy as you looked down at him, words catching in your throat. “shut the fuck up.” he cut you off quick, voice rough and clipped, already pushing you away from his lap without a care.
