bambi!reader not realizing she’s wandered into rafe’s deal and he has to gently tug her behind him to keep her out of trouble
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི BAMBI!READER
you don’t even realize you’ve wandered too far.
it’s warm out, air heavy and sweet, and you’re trailing behind the music, fingers brushing the tall grass as you go.
rafe told you to stay put— to sit pretty while he finished his work. and you listened… for the first ten minutes.
but the lights were loud and the people were louder and you couldn’t find the water bottle he gave you. your phone was dead, and your legs were sore, and, well, you just wanted to see him.
you spot him before he sees you. he’s tucked away behind a row of trailers, lowlight catching on the sharp cut of his jaw. he’s talking to two men you’ve never seen before. they’re older, rough around the edges, the kind of guys that make your stomach twist for no real reason.
you hesitate. pink nails tightening on your skirt. “rafe?” your voice is soft, sweet.
his head whips around. fast. his eyes cut straight to yours and the look on his face makes your heart stutter. “what the fuck are you doing here?”
he’s already moving. crossing the dirt in long strides, one hand coming to your waist, the other curling tight around your wrist.
“baby—fuck. i told you to stay back.” he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand rubbing his face up and down.
you blink up at him, lips parted, all innocent. “i—i just wanted to see you.” you look down, memorizing the pleats in your skirt. your flats shuffle in the dirt.
his jaw ticks. he glances over his shoulder, mutters something low to the guys, and then turns fully back to you. his hands slide to your hips, holding you firm, like he’s grounding himself.
“you can’t just walk into shit like that, alright? you don’t know what’s going on out here.” his voice is low, yet softer than before.
your bottom lip wobbles, not from tears, but because the adrenaline’s caught up. you nod, soft.
he exhales through his nose. takes your chin between two fingers and tilts your face up. “look at me.” you hesitantly look up. “you listen next time, yeah?”
you nod again. he softens and pulls you in against his chest, one hand splayed protectively between your shoulder blades.
“jesus,” he mutters into your hair. “just go back to the car before you give me a heart attack.”
it wasn’t intentional , never was with you . you’d come in wearing that oversized shirt - his shirt - with your bare thighs , your lashes fluttering like you didn’t know how to hold eye contact for more than two seconds without squirming .
bambi eyes , shy little smile , nibbling on your pout while you asked if he wanted something to drink .
sakuna stared at you like you were a problem he was about to solve with his dick .
“ what ?” you asked , blinking at him obliviously .
he didn’t speak , just stood ; and you took one small step back .
“ don’t ,” he warned , voice a rumble beneath his skin .
“ i didn’t do anything !”
“ you never do anything ,” he snapped , crossing the room in two strides . “ that’s the problem .”
your back hit the wall and you looked at him with those goddamn’d glossy, deer-in-the-headlights eyes ; that was it ; gone .
he grabbed your throat , not tight , just to hold you there - and ducked down to your ear , teeth grazing the shell .
“ ‘ kuna ,”
“ shut-up .” his hand slid under that shirt , groaning low when he felt bare skin . no panties , no nothing .
of course not , of course not .
“ you’re so fucking cute , it pisses me off .”
. . then he slid into you .
hard , deep , cream making the stretch feasible .
“ yeah ,” sakuna murmured , “ that’s what i needed .”
you clawed at his shoulders , barely able to breathe . “s’kuna !”
“ no , “ he snarled .
sakuna fucked into your body like it was an outlet for everything he couldn’t say out loud .
frustration . obsession . the raw need to ruin what made him weak .
" you look at me like i hung the damn moon ,” he hissed against your throat. “ you giggle and act like i’m not the worst thing that’s ever happened to you .”
“ i-i don’t - ah !”
“ you do ,” he snapped , grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto him , your back smacking the wall with every thrust . “ you fucking do .”
” let’s see how long you last before i break you open . ”
SYNOPSIS. sam makes you try a different version of your favorite candy; bigger and bitter.
WARNINGS. NSFW themes (18+), pet-names, cursing, dirty-talk & too many puns (i swear this punk cannot shut up), name-calling (brat, dumb girl), brat-taming, degradation, slight dacryphilia, perv!sam, clueless!reader, oral sex (m! receiving), face-fucking, bondage, slight slapping (with a belt, with his cock), hair-pulling, sexualising food?
SMACK, SLURP, POP. the sounds filled sam’s humid room. his brow furrowed further, a look of disdain washing over his pale features at the noise. the videogame in front of him needed all his heed, but it seemed like his brat, bambi, demanded some of that attention, too.
“stop that,” he groaned, frustrated. the sound of his thumbs assaulting the buttons on his controller should’ve been all that was heard, had you not been deep-throating the candy sam made the mistake of getting you. “what— i’m just having my candy,” you whined before continuing, “—and besides, if you have a problem, why don’t you let me sit away from you—” he was quick to shut down that idea, gripping the flesh of your thighs. maybe sam was in the wrong for getting you the cherry ring-pop, your favourite, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have you perched on his lap, sitting comfortably (cluelessly) on his aching boner, but in his defence, he just wanted to feast his eyes on the sight of your plump lips wrapped around the toy candy, sucking and slurping, just as you are now like the good girl you are, but once he switched his playstation on, the competitive side came out.
you shift to your comfort in his lap, feeling the tent in his pants poke directly into your mound. you had an arm crossed over sam’s neck, bringing the ring-clad finger to your mouth and sucking. at the taste of the sweet cherry juices dripping into your mouth, you groan in sam’s ear.
the sounds traveled straight to his cock, his mind tuning out his reality— the game at hand— just to focus at your skilful tongue, stained red by the candy. “if you don’t quit it—” he sighed, his voice strained. the next thing you know, his character is being obliterated by the enemy. you stifled a giggle, your plan worked.
sam had left you so, so worked up. choosing to take out his frustration with his family on some stupid toy, rather than your willing pussy. ever since that day at the playground, you couldn’t go a day without sam pounding into your drooling cunt. even if it was always him starting it, he got you to finish, and you were forever grateful for it. but today? when you dolled up in all black— tank top and skirt— with red lingerie, he decided to pick up that gaming console and not let go.
“alright, bambi, i’ve had it with you,” he gets up abruptly, causing you to hit the ground and land on your knees. you gasped, offended.
his hands, full of real, crude metal were quick to move, undoing his belt, unlike your delicate hand that was motionless with the toy ring perched on it. the leather of his studded belt flicked across your cheek, causing you to look up at sam through wet lashes. he only smirked at the sight. your eyes flicked to the bulge revealed in his boxers, and now your mouth watered for a taste that wasn’t cherry ring-pop.
“‘like to suck your candy, huh, brat?” he squeezed your cheeks together. “since you’ve been practising in my goddamn ears all day,” he continued, pulling out his cock, “let’s see how good you’ve gotten.” his cock was slapped against the same spot at the belt. you only stared at him through your long lashes, unwilling to satiate when you’re unsatisfied yourself. “come on, bambi, open up,” he squeezed your cheeks again, causing your mouth to gape open. “i can’t guarantee it tastes like cherries, but you’re open to trying sweet-n-salty, aren’tcha?” he giggled, amused at his own snarky comments.
the fat tip of his cock pressed into your plump, gape lips, and instinctively, your tongue stuck out to lick it. “there we go,” sam sighed, ready to return to cloud 9.
you sheepishly swirled your tongue around the bulbous tip of his cock, relishing in the taste of his precum oozing into your tastebuds. oh, yeah, you’ve found yourself a new favourite flavour.
“hands up for me, bambi,” he sighed, breathless already. you oblige, eyes widening when his belt snaked over your wrists, tying them in an unholy matrimony. your hands rested in your lap, preventing you from pleasuring yourself like you intended to. “now, open wide f’me.” you’re obedient, eager to please, for you know if sam’s satisfied he would overlook the ‘punishment’ and stick his cock into you. your pussy flutters at the thought of being full again.
as your throat relaxed around him, you started taking more and more of his length, looking up at him through your lashes to seek his validation, and the mere sight was rewarding. his brows furrowed, a pink flush crept into his pale skin, while his lips were plump and agape, marks of his teeth etched into the skin. “your mouth was made to suck cock, y’know that— my cock. you’re only gonna squeeze my cock with that fuckin’ throat, y’hear?” he nods, authoritative yet cooing, “is my girl understanding me?” so you bobble your head along with length. “fuck yeah, brat. going dumb on my cock,” he moans, and you were eager to illicit more of those sounds.
you relax your jaw, inhale deeply, and let him take charge. when sam realises this, the little devil smirks, running his fingers through your scalp to tug at your hair.
his cock pistons in and out of your throat, your eyes watering and your breath haggard. your pussy clenched around nothing but the flooded dampness of your cotton panties.
“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—” incoherent grunts and groans filled the room along with the delirious smell of your arousals. “fuuuuck, bambi,” sam’s thrusts got sloppier.
“you know,” he spoke, breathless yet mischievously, “this candy comes with a creamy centre,” he chuckled, grunting as he came undone in your mouth. “sweet n’ salty, yeah?” he stroked his cock, relishing in the sight of his heavy load dripping down your plump lips. you were quick to swallow every drop, selfishly devouring your favourite candy. you wondered if this was gluttony or lust?
when satiated, sam pulled away, tucking his cock away. you, too, get up from the floor, wincing at the pain of kneeling down for too long.
you shimmy out of your clothes, making your way towards his bed. sam sees you in the corner of his eye, an eyebrow irking at your actions, “what do you think you’re doing,” he asked plainly, leaving you confused. “i- you’re fucking me, right?” you had a pitiful look on your face, so eager to chase your own release with his assistance. “like hell i will, dumb girl,” sam scoffed, “brats don’t get pleasure after punishment,” he shrugged coldly, grabbing his gaming console.
he pointed towards his thighs, “sit your ass back down,” you whine, “but i’ll be so boooored,” yet perch on his lap, still.
“—and i finished my ring-pop,” you sigh in frustration. sam chuckles, “don’t worry, i’ll have your new favourite out in a minute,”
“this flavour never finishes, just keeps on coming.”
THIS PUNK—
SEE ALSO. playground [PRELIMINARY FIC]. more of Sam Monroe [MEAN!SAM, BIMBO!READER AND OTHER TROPES].
ceo!rafe calls in his secretary for what seems like another slap on the wrist, but it's clear from the moment she sits in front of him that she's deserving of much more than just that.
ceo!rafe x secretary reader; dark!rafe, dark themes, dubcon, daddy kink, smut. dead dove do not eat (?), MDNI. tw; slapping, aggression, filthy stuff....? let me know if i missed anything!
(still working on getting this part down...)
a/n: hi friends :) this one has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, but i finally got around to tweaking it. i'm not super crazy ab the lore leading up so you can ignore that LMAO i'm just not great at jumping into a scene so i have to build it up. also again, it's lazily proof read so beware. the ending is also slighty rushed, but i just wasn't sure where to take it LOL. enjoy! <33
you sit at your desk quietly, your hands trembling as you await your boss’s — the CEO, your direct higher up’s, call yet again, you had made another stupid mistake, failing to copy him, and other important figures of the company in important emails. the job was simple enough, or so one would’ve thought. but it was new, you weren’t used to being glued to a computer, filing paperwork, answering hundreds of calls a day. you tried your very best. and you should because you were merely a product of nepotism, the job given to you out of pity. young and freshly finished with school, yet still unable to get a big girl job. your step father generously pulled some strings with the rafe, the ceo, his best friend, of a his multi-million dollar company. of course the plan was that you’d move up eventually, but you’d need to begin with the simple work first. and you did.
rafe was a close family friend. he spent lots of time with you and your family during holidays, special events. never missing birthdays. he may as well have been apart of your family. but he was careful, keeping a strict thick line between business and personal affairs. rafe was always around, always funny and kind, very much loved. granted, work was a different time for him, and it showed. he was generous enough to offer you a job as one of his secretaries, he had a few. you liked the job enough although you knew you didn’t want to do it forever. you accepted happily. nice pay, great benefits, a place to dress to the 9’s nearly everyday, which was perfect because you had gone to school for fashion anyone.
after couple months of being there, it started to feel like routine, everything was comfortable except for your social life. you didn’t have a problem with most people. it seemed as though you got along with everyone pretty well. almost everyone. there were just a couple of colleagues of yours who had been an issue. to put it plainly, they were mean girls. it was something you thought you would’ve escaped upon graduating high school years ago. it was strange. rafe never showed you much favoritism, so you weren’t sure why there was so much animosity. he expected and treated you just as he had anyone else. maybe even a little harsher.
finally, the anticipation brewing in your stomach disappeared, turning to anxiousness when your phone finally rang. your mouth dried and you reached for it, picking it up slowly with a quiet wince.
“hello?” you answer, your voice nearly turning to dust. you look around subtly, hoping no one would know what was happening, but the other secretaries, the clique, as you called them, bunched together just a few feet away, glancing and whispering.
of course, it was rafe. “my office. now.” and then, a dead line. now was never good. it meant something was wrong. it meant he had to stop the other hundreds of things he was doing. it meant trouble.
with weak knees, you brace your hands on the work desk, pulling yourself out of your chair. a soft, but deep breath escaping your lips in an attempt to calm yourself down. you hated to mess up, to be in trouble, to be on the bad side. you begin walking down the hall, which felt like it only grew longer the farther down it you got. finally, you reach the elevator which would eventually take you up to the tip top floor, where only his office resided. “the gates” as everyone called it.
the ride on the elevator felt slow, daunting. the muscles in your throat seemed to tighten with fear and embarrassment, forcing a lump up, up, and up. eventually, you’d reach the top of the building, the elevator’s doors gliding open smoothly. he sat quietly at the edge of his desk, eyebrows furrowed together with something unreadable. maybe partly in stress, partly in anticipation for his next meeting, next objective or thing to do, but mostly frustration with you. his gazed moved away from his expensive watch, and up to you as he heard the elevator ding, watching carefully as you inched toward him.
“hi rafe!” you start, hoping to smooth things over with your bubbly personality.
“mr. cameron at work,” he corrected. “sit.” nodding toward the chair. your breath hitched a little and you gulped quietly, not used to seeing such a side of him. it was hard to not be intimidated by him. he was achingly handsome outside of work of course, but at work was a different side. there were no games, he was sharp… he meant business. today he was dressed in a dark blue suit, custom and tailored to his body, because why not? he had the money for it. even while sitting his frame towered over you. this wasn’t difficult to do no matter what position. his blonde hair was buzzed neatly on his head, not a single thing out of place. everything about him looked like it belonged.
his gaze never left you. his blue orbs following you oh so carefully, intensely, examining every inch of your frame, eyes resting for just a beat too long in all the perfect places. your white button down blouse, paired with your black and white tweed skirt which hugged your hips so sweetly, barely in code with your sheer stockings that contoured the shape of your legs, with black kitten heels that clicked quietly against the marble floors. you were oblivious of course, and he was subtle. he treated you like everyone else, maybe even a little worse to what you thought was to avoid any sort of accusations, though it could’ve also been warranted with all of your small little fuck ups that he had to talk to you about. he was growing frustrated with you, but with his undying soft spot for you, he persisted with giving you a talking to, which proceeded with you promising him to be better. though it consumed time he didn’t have, and though he’d never admit it, he liked to hear you ramble on about how sorry you were and how you were gonna make things right. he thought it was cute. sweet. but he’d never make that clear.
your clammy hands reached for the chair that sat in front of him, searching for support as you rested your bottom in the cushion. looking up at him with your sweet doe eyes, you settled into the chair, breath shallow, heart beating with anticipation for what’s to come.
he looked at you silently, eyes narrowed slightly as if to study you. to you, not so much as to check you out but as to understand why you couldn’t just do your damn job. to him, like a wolf sitting just before his bunny, knowing the sweet meal he was about to capture. one too many times he’s called you to his office, stern talking to’s, empty promises. you tried, you really did. it was just so different and difficult, so many things to keep up with and not enough time in a work day. you wanted to make him proud. he was important to you, to your family at the end of the day. he was tired of playing nice with you. your warnings were up, and now he was going to teach you a lesson. he licked his soft plump lips, his eyes resting for just a second too long on the space between the opening that the unused buttons left on your shirt and your soft skin. he could see your shallow breathing, chest rising and falling quickly and quietly.
“d’you wanna tell me why i keep having to call you up here?” he queried, clearing his throat. you knew from the tone of his voice the question was rhetorical, he wasn’t done. “think i’ve been real generous, lettin’ you show me what you’re capable of. ’n yet you continue to disappoint me.” he says flatly. ouch. your heart aches with embarrassment, your eyes growing glassy but not quite ready to fill with tears.
“ra-“, you corrected yourself quickly and took a deep breath, not daring to make the blatant mistake of call him by his first name at work again. “mr. cameron,” you continue, shifting nervously in your seat. pleading with him almost, desperate for him to understand how hard you’re trying, your voice breaking. “i promise I’m trying, i really am. i try to follow the rules ’n do my work ’n I’m so sorry i’ve been missing a few things.” A single tear threatens to fall down your face, so you wipe it away quickly, but he sees. his eyes soften for just a split second and then his face hardens again, jaw rolling. he didn’t like to see you be upset, but your desperate pleas and tears admittedly did something to him. something filthy. he ignored your words as if he was tired of your excuses. he had a business to run, a tight ship, and he didn’t have time for a dumb girl fucking things up. he’d had it.
he moved further toward the center of the desk, now sitting just a foot away from you. your pleading eyes moving up his tall lean frame to meet his, which unbeknownst to you, stared down at you hungrily, pupils dilated. a flash of irritation flashed across his face, his mouth twitching slightly.
“’s frustrating, honestly. y’know how many call and emails i make in a day? how many meetings i take? on top of all the other bullshit? y’think i have time to keep doing this with you, angel?” his words hitting like daggers to your perfectionist heart. his hand reaches down and you flinch just a little, though he only sweeps a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers gently grazing the soft sun-kissed skin on your cheek.
“you wanna follow the rules, and yet…?” his hand moves again and his eyes follow, back to your cheek and down to your full glossy lips, the pad of his thumb dragging your bottom lip down ever so slightly just to see how plump they are. the room in his pants tighten slowly but surely. you gulp, expressions of uncertainty run clear across your face. your throat barely squeezing the remnants of saliva down it. “i don’t.” you finish the sentence clearly left for you to interpret.
“maybe you like testing me. wanna see what i’ll do…” his voice is still low, and sharp, like a blade on skin, taunting you. like he’s getting a kick out of scaring you, which was obviously what you were. eyes wide, tears stinging, threatening to fall from those pretty doe eyes. despite how scared you were it was hard to ignore the fiery warmth that began pooling at your core, the warmth that his eyes burned into you.
by now his hand was gripping your jaw, his face leaned into yours, your noses just centimeters apart. your face was burning with embarrassment, eyes beaming into your soul. but neither one of you looked away. he whispers, eyes never leaving, “‘m gonna show you what happens when you don’t follow the rules, bambi.”
“i-“ you’re interrupted by the feeling of a hot sting on your cheek, your mouth falling agape. a bitch of a slap he’d given you to shut you up before you started rambling again. hot tears fall roll one by one from your eyes. “perfect, you’ve already got the idea,” he smirks. he’s got you right how he wants you. “on your knees.”
you stay there for a second too long, unable to process what he’s said or done, but the roughness of his voice mixed the hand that snakes to the back of your neck, gripping you tight like a little puppy snaps you back to reality. this was unlike the rafe you knew. and frankly, you weren’t sure what to make of it. you’d thought about him in ways you’d rather not confront more times than you’d like to admit. but those feelings were tucked away in a deep corner of your brain. you weren’t sure if this was even reality or not.
“don’t make me ask twice,” he threatens quietly, deep sturdy voice making you fall to his feet like puddy. your chest feels tight, but your core grows confusingly hot, tangling in knots.
“so pretty when you cry, baby,” he coos still staring down at you, bottom lip pouted out ever so slightly. mocking you. “always wanted to wipe those pretty tears.” a thumb swipes over your cheek and he brings it up to his mouth, eyes peering down at you as he licks it from his finger. while one hand undoes his bottoms, the other one snakes its way to the back of your head, tangling into your hair, gripping it by the base.
you can’t help but flinch away when his thick throbbing cock springs free from his pants, but he’s too quick, jerking you back, forcing you to watch the pre-cum that glistens and drips from the red tinted tip that aches to fuck your holes. he strokes himself slowly, once, twice, then taps his tip against your plump lips which look like they’re made to take his girth.
“you know how long i’ve been wanting to fuck that sweet mouth?” he rasps, seeming as if he’s teasing himself with you. “didn’t imagine it happening like this,” he says it disappointedly, as if you were forcing his hand. his fingers grab the apples of your cheeks on either side, squishing them together until your lips pucker, inspecting you closely as he imagines how perfect they’d be for taking his cock.
“‘m gonna fuck that pretty face so hard… maybe it’ll stick once i’m done with you. maybe then you’ll be a good girl. isn’t that right?” then he places his hand back around his cock, drags his tip down the side of your face, leaving a slimy trail of his seed on your skin. “open your mouth.” you hesitate, feeling filthy, but comply, scared of what he might do if you don’t, but curiosity rises, wondering what it’d feel like to take him in your mouth.
he teases himself a little bit, taking a sharp inhale as he slides himself past your soft lips, fucking your mouth with short quick strokes as if he were teasing himself. your warm wet mouth wraps around him, hugging his cock tight. part of you wanted to show him how good you could be for him, how good you could make him feel, even if it wasn’t in the most appropriate way.
“oh fuck—“ he hisses, half pleasure and half surprise, slowly inching himself farther into your mouth, nearly down your throat. he was careful not to push you past your limits, but still willing to use your sweet mouth exactly how he wants to.
“y’look so good like this, pretty girl. mouth stuffed full of my cock like it’s all you’re good for.” he gazes down at you, mouth slightly agape with a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. and then you feel his grip tighten, his hand bobbing your head up and down his throbbing cock faster and faster until he’s thrusting nearly all of his length into your wet mouth. you claw and grab at his thighs as if they’d supply you with air, whimpering and moaning against the soft, velvety, veiny skin that intruded you.
“you like getting used like this angel? like a good fuckin’ slut?” he growls softly at you, like he can’t get enough, threatening to take more from you. you had no idea but at this point, but the fabric covering your sweet cunt was now drenched, aching to please him. he bit his lip, inebriated by the sight of your saliva spilling slowly from the corners of your mouth, the sounds of your moans and soft gags. he throws his head back slightly, a guttural moan escaping his lips, before looking back down at you, head cocked slightly. “doin’ so good, baby.” his grunts emphasize every time he shoves your head back onto his throbbing cock. “knew that mouth was good for somethin’, taking my cock so fuckin’ well. fuckin’ fuckk—” his tone is wicked, it lays over you like a blanket, like he owns you. and honestly, it seemed like he did, and you don’t mind not one bit.
“y’gonna swallow f’me?” he purrs, watching you in admiration for what a little whore you had become for him at work. sitting at his feet taking him all in as he used your mouth as a fuck toy, gagging and drooling all over him. the pace of his hand grew quicker, and then slower, more rugged, his hips bucking as you felt the release of his load explode inside your mouth, his moans and curses bouncing from wall to wall. he pulls out from your lips and leans down, holding your chin which is now wet with saliva that had escaped while he was pounding your head dumb. “swallow it.” he says with a curled lip, tone smooth and daring, like he had you wrapped around his finger. first he had startled you, but now you wanted to play. his pray wasn’t gonna be so easily tamed, and it wouldn’t be as fun without a fight. your eyes wander up to find his, fluttering its lashes gently, your chest rising and falling quickly still in an attempt to catch your breath. parting your lips, bringing them close together, you let his load fall from your mouth like drool down your chin and into the hand that cradled your jaw.
he stares at you in disbelief, partially because he can’t believe that you’d disobeyed him, partially because he didn’t know how much of a filthy girl you were. little did he know about the nasty things you’d imagined about him. he reaches over his desk and grabs a tissue, wiping his hand clean in a single quick swipe before turning back to you and grabbing you roughly by your neck, earning a whimper from you.
“get the fuck up,” he spits pulling you to your feet, hand still gripping your neck. by now he’s returned to sitting at the corner of his desk, cock still out and throbbing, still dripping with seed. he pulls you in between his legs, his large hand squeezing you even tighter causing you to grip his shirt desperately. “y’wanna play, huh?”
he sounds nasally now, like he’s holding something back. teetering on the idea of accepting your challenge. “look like such a whore with my cum dripping down your chin. should take a picture n make it last longer. bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he grits through his teeth, laughing to himself. it almost seems as if he’s kind of sizing you up, but you keep looking at him, unwavering fear now because you know he wants to play, and you wanna challenge him. he pauses, but not long enough before giving your cheek a little smack, repeating himself as if he’s looking for an answer. “wouldn’t you?” he says in a whisper, jerking you closer. he wouldn’t get much of a reply though, only a pliant nod as you were still dizzy from assault he’d done on your mouth. he then presses his wet tongue against the corner of your mouth, dragging it against your skin like a claim, as if he’s taste testing the dinner that sits before him. he licks the other side slow, making your cunt clench around air and knees fall weak. you can’t help but stiffen, the dominance lurking over you becoming crystal clear. he licks your chin clean of the mix of saliva and cum, and leans into your ear.
“‘m gonna fucking ruin you so good. you’ll learn.” he stands releasing your neck and grabs you, whipping you around until you’re facing his work space which he pushes you into. your face against the cool papers on his desk. he stands behind you, cock pressed into your rear. he wastes no time pulling up the skirt that rested on your waist, groping the fabric covered soaking mound between your soft thighs. “dirty fuckin’ girl,” he laughs at you. mockingly, slapping your cunt as if you ought to be ashamed. you jump, yelping as you try to remove yourself, but it’s no use as he’s caged you in with a hard chest. “what’s going on here, huh?” he in one motion, rips the tights that covered your lacy panties. then he starts to rub slow circles over you throbbing clit, making you twitch and whine, breathing heavier than before as you grind softly into his finger. “you like this don’t you?” he chuckles softly, like he’s coaxing you into his devilish thoughts. corrupting you. he doesn’t let you answer, it seems as though he’s more so talking to himself “this desperate pussy’s so wet f’me, just aching to be wrecked isn’t it? you like being used?” ding ding ding. you do. you like the thought of it anyway. you’d do anything for him to praise you and tell you what a good job you’re doing.
“tell me— is that what you want angel?” you nod hesitantly against the desk, making barely a whisper. “yes.” he smirks, tutting at you like you ought to be ashamed. “anyone else touched you like this before?” by now, his fingers had pushed the lace of your panties to the side, gliding up and down the glistening slick of your cunt painfully slow. he knew the answer, but asked anyway. he wanted to hear it himself. you mewled, pushing up against his fingers earning a puff of air from his nose, amusement, quickly taking your pleasure away. “ah ah, answer me baby. you answer when i speak to you.” he loved watching you writhe around under his grip, pushing your throbbing cunt toward him in desperation. “n-no, no one’s touched me before.” it was almost like a plead, a bargain. the promise of your purity in exchange for his touch. it was filthy, but the way he made your tummy twist up in knots, the way he made your pussy ache meant you’d be willing to give anything for his hands to be on you. he hums in approval.
“this pussy? it’s mine now, you understand me?” his fingers slid into you with ease, pumping quickly and rhythmically, making you squirm even more, feeling like a mouse in a sticky trap. you couldn’t help but moan more, nearly wailing with overstimulation and he finger fucked you ruthlessly. his other hand grabbed the front of your neck, pulling you forcefully into his chest, head resting on his shoulder. “you fuckin’ understand me?” he grits his teeth, and you nod again, more quickly this time. “yes, fuck- i understand.” one, two, then three fingers all at once. you started to feel tension in your stomach, unable to give anything other than moans and cries that bounced from wall to wall. you were so greedy for him, so desperate for him to touch you, you were ready to unravel in his arms and melt into him. he could feel it coming. the way your body shook, the way you tightened around his large fingers, begging and pleading for him to obliterate your sopping cunt, the one that was soaking and weeping just for him. and just as you felt yourself coming to your peak, he removed his fingers, your walls clenching around air. nothing. you sobbed softly, scooting your ass back into him trying to invite him back. he laughed wickedly into your ear, bringing his fingers up to lick you off of them.
“disobedient girls don’t get to make a mess baby. they don’t get to cum all of over my fingers.” still shaking, whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. he hushes you. “shhh sh, baby. ‘m gonna claim this needy little cunt now, yeah? gonna make a mess of you. make it mine.” he strokes himself a couple times, then suddenly your back arches and you cry out, his cock which once laid between your plump ass cheeks was now deep inside of you, all of its length, pumping roughly without warning. and there was no where to run, no matter how hard you clawed at him, at the desk. you were just a moaning melting mess. “please—“ you beg, though unsure if you were begging him to stop or keep railing into your unsuspecting pussy. he grunts in your ear, arms gripping you close as if you’d slip away if he let go. messy wet sounds and skin clapping together following suit. your mascara now running rivers down your face.
“this is what happens,” he says in between breaths, “when you don’t fuckin’ listen.” he lets your neck go and your torso collapses to the desk, his hips still grinding into you at full force. one hand finds your waist, his finger nails sinking deep into your soft skin, enough to mark and bruise. the other hand beginning to spank you. hard. over. and over. for each time you had fucked something up, hadn’t listened or disobeyed him. “is this what you need? you need to be fucked dumb so it sticks in that little head? huh?” you can’t even form words, your head feels dizzy and you’re seeing stars, so cock drunk for him. “ye- yes, pleaseee, i promise i’ll be good” you manage to say, nearly begging. “i’ll be so good.”
“what’s my name baby?” he whispers lowly, continuing to rut into you relentlessly, hands now grabbing your soft tits before releasing you and pressing you back into the desk, his large hand holding your head down against it. your breathing hitches, tensing up. you don’t know what to call him, what to say. you’re not even sure if you can say anything. he presses his weight into you, thrusting into you even harder like he’s trying to fuck the words out of you. he brushes the hair from your face, leaning into your ear, his voice soft and condescending, teasing like he knows something you don’t. you feel the crevice of his arm scoop your neck back up, now holding you against him in a headlock.
“c’monnn, angel. you know it. saw it in that little diary of yours.” you nearly jump out of your skin at the sentence, instinctively attempting to jerk yourself up in surprise, but instead you’re met with the weight of rafe on you, showing no mercy. “you fu-“ you huff out, both the surprise and weight taking the breath out of you. he abruptly pulls out of you and spins you around to face him, lifting you swiftly before placing you on the desk, where he resumes fucking you ruthlessly. this time, his dark glare burning into you, pupils blown like he’s soaking you in, memorizing every inch of your body, your face, your expressions.
“i’d watch that mouth ‘nless you want me to fuck it again.” by now you’d clearly heard what he was asking, but your mind had been consumed with the embarrassment of your dirty secrets that had been discovered non consensually. he holds you by your hair, forcing you to look at him, chest heaving, puffing. “what’s my name?” he says it more gently this time, as if to lure you into giving him the satisfaction of the title. tears still fall from your eyes, wetting your cheeks. but your gaze never leaves his, because you in fact were drinking in every inch of him too, consuming him, submitting to him. you resist some more, eyes pleading for him to not make you say it. despite having thought it so many times, it was much different then saying it to his face, especially when he had so clearly taken what he felt belonged to him anyway. he didn’t deserve it, right? wasn’t the verge of your orgasm enough? hadn’t he gotten enough from you?
“please don’t make me—“ you beg, but he’s not having any of it. he’s slowed his pace, but still fucks into you so deep you can feel his tip kissing your cervix with each stroke. “shh, shh. ‘m not gonna let you cum til you say it. wanna make sure you know. make sure it’s stuck in that empty little head.” he shakes your skull in rhythm with the last few words. “daddy…” the way it rolls off of your tongue hits rafe like a train. a flip of a switch. “fuck—, that’s right baby.“ he grits, now picking up his pace. “n’ where are your manners? you gonna thank me for teachin’ you a lesson?” his voice is a quiet, low whisper, breath ghosting your skin. by now the two of your are at the edge of your unraveling, your fingers gripping him hard enough to leave behind scratches and fallen flesh. “thank you, daddy.” you mewl, holding tight. “good. fucking. girl.” each word comes with the a thrust and then all at once you feel yourself reaching your high. you’d expect for rafe to be selfish, but no. even once he’s had his release, he’s not considering himself done until you’ve had yours. how sweet. “you’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you, angel? make a mess f’me.”
you start thrusting back into him, now the both of you putting in work. and that’s how he knows, how he knows his victory is soon to arrive. “yeahhh, that’s it. don’t be shy, i wanna hear you, angel.” his voice is rough, a satisfactory snicker leaving his lips. it’s not from aggression. more so from his effort, how much work he’s putting into you. you don’t hold back as your find yourself grinding yourself back and forth on his cock like it was free use, though his thrusts slowed, they deepened until they couldn’t anymore. you were grabbing onto any part of him you could get your hands on, now babbling, begging, his new found name rolling off of your tongue like it was second nature now. finally, it came to a halt, and all he could do was wear a smirk on his lips, knowing what a mess he’d made of you. you noted that as you were getting dressed, the part of panties that were once in your possession were no longer able to be found. you gazed at him, barely opening your mouth to ask him if he’d seen them. your mouth closes immediately, his expression smug, eyes burning into you as you watch him tuck the fabric behind the pocket square resting in his suit. by now, he’s resumed the spot back in his chair, clearing his throat as if nothing happened, cold even.
“get back to work.”
—
a/n: SCREAMING...... pls let me know what you think in the comments! also feel free to send requests as well! they're open :) thank you for reading XOXO <3
WHEN PUPPY!CHRIS NOTICES THAT BAMBI!READER HAS BEEN GETTING CLOSE TO MATT. . .
His hands ache, practically throbbing but his teeth just sink deeper into his bottom lip as he beats at drums. He's trying deep breaths, he's trying counting to 10, nothings working.
He can feel the hot tears begging to roll down his face. Wouldn't this be something stupid to cry over? His brother getting closer to his best friend?
You're friends. You, Matt, Nick and Chris, so it wasn't odd that you guys would hang out, do things together. But, then that started turning into an everyday thing.
The, "do you wanna get boba?" and the, "i miss you come over:(" started to turn into, "gonna be with matt:( sorry!!!"
He was fine with it at first. Using the spare time he had from not hanging with you on learning more of your favorite songs on the drums—Then Matt started filling spaces he belonged in.
Being the one to take you to your after school dance practices, holding you after you fell asleep during movie night, going to the mall just to look around.
His final straw was the kisses.
Chris was chilling on the couch, hugging a pillow when he couldn't help but look over into the kitchen.
"Bambi... told you to be careful," Matt scolds softly, inspecting your bleeding finger. "No more cutting peppers for you, yeah?" He gives you a smile, one that Chris can tell flusters you.
"Was being careful." You pout, one that makes him miss those big brown eyes looking up at him. "M' sure you were, sweet girl." And then Matt's leaning down and kissing your forehead, your cheek and then your nose. In that order.
What he used to do.
He can feel the bile rising in his throat, hands getting clammy. He has no choice but to b-line straight to his room.
The sticks slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a hallow clatter that he barely registered over the pounding in his chest. He lurched to his feet, breath hitching. His hands curl into fists, then released, his fingers twitching for an anchor.
The air in the music room felt heavy, thick. He blinked hard, urging the burning in his eyes to go away, but the burn of tears remained.
His jaw tightened—
A shaky exhale, then a deep breath in. Crouching to fetal position. Then it all comes crashing down, tears falling one after the other.
Sob after sob.
Hiccup after hiccup.
"I miss you." After, "I miss you."
Until he's laying in a puddle of his tears and wishing you'd come back.
you remind me of what used to be mine. —Faye Webster.
a/n: i miss your voice, you're the only one with it. it reminds me of what used to be mine.
hypnosis : bambi!reader who caught s2!rafes eye the moment he met her planting roses in the middle of summer.
warnings : cursing
word count : 456
authors note : hi angels! this is my first little drabble, and i really hope you’ll enjoy! if you have any requests for new characters, drabble, fics, etc. my requests are pretty much always open! i’m willing to write about most things so go for it! i’d also like to thank @cameronsprincess for reading this through, you’re amazing! enjoy <3333
“the fuck are you doin’?” rafe had wandered to far from home after a particular bad fight with his father, and in his red hot angry rage - he found himself in a small meadow somewhere behind tanneyhills huge forest. “hm?” the brown haired girl had turned to the voice, her hands muddy and earthy from planting the beautiful flower she adored so much.
“i said what the fuck are you doing?” the second time around he’s growing more annoyed that the stupidly cute and deer like girl ignored his question the first time. “oh! m’ planting some roses! they’re beautiful aren’t they?” she chirps, her pink and glossy lips curving into a huge smile.
rafe scoffs, crossing his stupidly large arms over his perfectly fitted polo - “why the fuck are you planting flowers in the middle of fuckin’ summer.” his comment makes the girl frown, why so mean? “you don’t… you don’t like my roses?” her once bright smile, and peppy eyes slowly melt into a soft, adorable pout.
“hey - hey stop that, i never fuckin said i didn’t —“ before he can even explain himself the tears have already started to flow down the girl’s beautiful rosy red cheeks - making rafe feel… bad?
no, that can’t be it. rafe cameron doesn’t feel bad, that’s for… that’s for pussies, well that’s what ward tells him.
“a’right stop cryin’ s’ not that serious.” he leans down and grabs the small girl by her shoulders, pulling her in for an awkward yet warm hug, one that he isn’t used to. “you’re fine kid.”
she sniffles once, then twice - then a few times more before he’s grown tired of the hug, pushing her body back gently to stand back up on his expensive shoes. “what’s your name.”
“it’s y/n” there it is, that smile that made his heart skip a beat at the first sight of her - “bambi.” she cocks an eyebrow at him, a giggle escaping past her glossy pink and plump lips, “bambi?”
“yeah, bambi. you look like a deer, and you’re lurkin’ in the middle of the fuckin woods like one of em’ so you’re bambi.” the explanation falls to short ears, she doesn’t care about why - she likes it, bambi.
bambi, bambi, bambi.
“do you want to… plant a flower? it’s very relaxing!” he wants to say no — he really does, but with the flutter of her lashes, and the way she pulls her lips in between her perfectly white teeth, it’s hard to resist it.
“sure — whatever, don’t make this shit take forever.” with a blinding smile she pats the spot next to her, beckoning that boy next to her, in which he sits carefully.
“so first you…”
‘well bambi, you’re my deer now.’
another a/n: i really hope you enjoyed reading this, and if you ever have any problems with what i write im more than welcome to critique and for you to request anything! i’m still trying to figure out this tumblr thing with how to put together a masterlist but ill get there eventually! <3
Sorry about not enough context for Bambi. I didn’t want to be to detailed because I know some writers hate that.
Could you do Bambi and Rafe based off the fic you just posted on like the emotional manipulation. It would be there relationship before that all takes place and basically Rafe starts being mean/arguing with her and she starts to dissociate?
When she dissociates she just starts to look up at him with like big brown eyes that are like glossed over. His reaction could be starting to be nice or continuing to be mean IDK.
he’s pacing again. loud shoes against the old wood floor of your bedroom, hands running through his hair, voice pitching up every few seconds.
“you don’t fuckin’ listen. you never listen—i tell you what i need and it’s like you float off somewhere else.”
you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, small hands curled in your lap, your sweater sleeves pulled down past your fingers like you’re trying to disappear into them. your eyes are wide. soft brown, glazed like glass, staring past him. through him.
not crying. not blinking. not even breathing that deep.
“you hear me?” he snaps, and that’s when he notices it.
you’re gone.
your body’s here, but your brain’s somewhere far away. somewhere safe. that soft dissociative fog settling over you like a blanket. it happens when he gets like this. when his tone goes mean and he starts sounding like your mom did after her third glass of wine. you don’t fight. you just leave.
you blink up at him once. slowly.
he’s breathing hard, nostrils flared, and you think he’s going to yell again—but instead, something shifts.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath. it’s quiet. almost guilty.
he kneels in front of you, palm resting on your thigh. “hey. baby.” softer now. coaxing. like nothing just happened.
your gaze doesn’t change, not at first.
he rubs a thumb over your knee. “come back, c’mon. i didn’t mean it like that.”
you blink again. the fog starts to crack, just barely.
“baby,” he murmurs, eyes flicking over your face. “you always do this—look at me like that it’s making me feel like a fuckin’ monster.”
your lips part, but nothing comes out. not yet.
his jaw clenches. “don’t shut down on me. not you.”
you know he doesn’t mean to scare you. you know he gets mad because he’s scared too. but sometimes it’s like he wants to break you just to see if you’ll come crawling back.
and you always do.
your fingers finally twitch, curling around his wrist. “m’here,” you whisper, like you’re convincing yourself.
he kisses your knuckles, mutters something against them you can’t quite hear.
you don’t say anything else. you just let him hold you. it’s easier than talking. easier than breaking again.
opposites collide.𑣲✮⋆˙ (ALTERNATIVE!TOJI x BAMBI!READER)
you're such a fearful girl. trembling around most people, even your family. loud sounds make you want to crawl into a ball. and yet you're dating toji - a killer. who loves tattoo needles pricking his skin, the heaviest music you wish wasn't created, and gauges in his earlobes. he takes care of you in a way you didn't know existed for you. everything is okay when he's around. it seems you stop trembling when he's near. except when he's between your thighs like he is right now.
he's got you on your back in his dark, heady bed, your fist wrapped around his delicious, veiny arm. whimpering and sobbing as he destroys you with his tongue ring. 'toji,' you sob, cumming for the fourth time. the metal isn't even cold anymore, but the pressure and hard texture of it paired with the softness of his tongue has you seeing stars.
you know there's no point in fighting him on it. this is selfish. he loves to make you cum, and he won't stop until he's had enough. but you're pushing softly at his head, thighs clamping around his ears. 'toji,' you whine. so delicately sensitive. voice soft as cashmere.
he sits up. looking down at you. 'are you seriously in pain?'
you're looking at him, trying to form a thought. you're shaking your head no. 'don't think so..'
'do you mean that, bambi? do you need to stop?' he asks as he's grabbing your wrists and cuffing them to the bedpost.
you're in dreamland. looking up at your boyfriend. now that he's gone, you miss him. it's like he trained your body to love being pushed past your limits. the overstimulation is something you crave. 'too tight,' you whimper.
'ah. sorry.' he's pressing kisses to your wrist, loosening it and cuffing the other one.
you move against them a little as he's taking off your skirt fully, tossing it onto his floor with the rest of your cute little outfit - mini white skirt, white knee socks, pink thong, and a cropped sweater top. he loves your clothes, but having you at his mercy naked in his arms is something he loves just as much.
resuming position like a sniper on the bed, he comes to the conclusion: 'i think you have at least four more in you, bambi.'
