surprising your exhausted boyfriend in that burgundy lace set he loves so much. — spicy fluff, suggestive themes, dirty talk, domestic bf!rafe. not proofread.
masterlist here
tannyhill’s quiet tonight. ward and rose out for business. sarah staying at the chateau. and wheezie already asleep.
the digital clock on the nightstand shows a ‘10:16 PM’. the bedroom was all warm light—yet cold air of the ac piercing his skin.
rafe sprawled on the bed. wearing a t-shirt he just changed like couple of minutes ago, after work. scrolling through whatever his phone algorithm gave. he huffs in exhaustion, dragging his palm down his face.
blue eyes quickly drift into the bathroom’s door when he heard a loud click!
the sight of you stops him cold.
you stood before him in a deep burgundy lace set. underwire top stitched with delicate waves barely hid your soft tits. garter belt framed your hips, thin straps pulling the look. a matching strappy thong making your plump ass pop out. you look like a walking wet dream.
“fuck me,” rafe mutters under his breath. he lets his gaze linger a bit too long on you. “c’mere, let me get a better look at what im workin’ with.”
you push off the doorframe, crossing the room slowly. you watch his eyes track you—tits, hips and down to the plush thighs. a grin appearing on his face, the one that says hes already undressing you with his mind. every second is his favorite one.
you stop at the edge of the bed. “i know you were gonna look at me.” you let out a breathy giggle.
rafe grabs your wrist, tugging you down onto him. landing on his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck.
“you tryna kill me, baby?” his breath warm against your lips. thumb tracing the strap on your shoulder, nudging it down an inch.
your hand slides up his chest. fingers holding onto the fabric of his shirt. you arch into him, pressing your mouth to his jaw. his hands grabs the fat of your ass, kneading it.
“aw, baby. didnt know a little lace could get you this worked up.” you grin against his jaw.
a low laugh rumbles out of him. pulls back to just look at you, that cocky smirk appearing. “babe, you walked outta that bathroom wearin’ this. expecting me not to get worked up?” his rough palm lightly spanking your bare ass.
“mhm..” you wiggle your ass under his touch, batting your lashes up to him. youre addicted to the way he looks at you. love and lust, no in between.
“been with you how long ‘nd you still make me feel like some idiot kid with a crush.” his grin softens into something warmer.
your chest flutters, a warm feeling creeping in. you pull him down into a slow passionate kiss. he takes it like its something precious. one hand sliding into your hair, tilting your head.
the kiss deepens. his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping inside. hand drifting down your hip, fingertips teasing the edge of your lace.
rafe pulls back, lips swollen, half lidded eyes staring at your mouth. “gonna let me take this off you?” he stares back into your eyes. “or you gonna make me work for it?”
instead of answering, you shifted your hips. pressing your ass against his clothed cock. slow and patient to tease him. he groans low, but grin’s still there. “could get used to this view everyday. you on top, lookin’ all sexy.”
“could you?”
“yeah,” his hands sliding down to your thighs, palm rough against your soft skin. “real used to it.”
you kiss him but keeping it light. teasing. pulling back just as he leans into it. he tried to chase your mouth, but you lean back out of reach.
“nuh uh.” you pressed a finger to his lips. “said you wanted to work for it.” you cant hold your grin anymore. a soft laugh escapes you.
he moved his face closer to your cleavage. breathing in, sniffing your scent—sweet and calming. “youre so pretty when you laugh.” he slipped out.
the corner of your mouth lifts, showing a genuine smile at him. you trace a finger down his broad chest. you stare back to his eyes. they never leave you. your breath getting heavier.
you closed the distance, kissing him slow and deep. your fingers slide into the nape of his neck. a soft exhale vibrates against your lips.
rafe melts into it. hands tightening on your thighs, not wanting to let go. he kisses you back, tongue tracing your bottom lip. he slides his tongue further down your throat.
one of his hand slides up, thick fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. the cold heavy ring pressing against your bare skin.
bra comes undone with a soft click, straps sliding down your shoulders. he eases the lace aside.
he pulls back just enough to breathe. he stares at the sight of your naked tits. pupils blown wide. his pants gets tighter and tighter.
“god, i love you.” he looks up at you. rough hands palming your tits, thumb pinching your nipples. he smiles against your lips, ready to kiss you again and take this further.
rafe and pogue!reader go out to the country club but it doesn’t go as planned ….
warnings: angst, classism, hurt/comfort, mean middle aged kooks
notes: TY nonnie! i hope u love!!! 😁 requests & asks are open!!! if it gets enough love i might make a pogue!reader moodboard 😁
When Rafe called and asked if you wanted to go the country club, your entire body froze and you went quiet. The two of you had been dating for a few months now, but when you hung out it was usually alone at Rafe’s house or somewhere on the Cut, where you felt most comfortable. It’s not that you were ashamed of each other, you just always felt out of place on Figure Eight.
Hence why his proposition had you a little tense.
“Rafe… I don’t know.” You finally answered while shaking your head as if he could see.
“Come on, it’ll be fine. We’ll just eat real quick and then come back here. I know you get tired of ordering out.” He was already getting dressed and ready before you even had the chance to answer. “I’ll see you in 20. And wear that new dress you just got.”
Rafe hung up immediately, leaving no room for you to argue. You took a deep breath and walked to your closet. You smiled when you saw the dress he was talking about- all pretty and polka dotted with lace along the neckline and a bow in the middle. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be with Rafe. Who’s gonna say something to me while I’m with Rafe?” You thought to yourself as you slid your dress on. You finished getting ready and sat on your bed as you waited for your boyfriend.
When you heard him pull up, you made your way outside. You smiled when Rafe got out to open your door for you.
“Oh, thank you.” You took his hand and stepped up into his truck.
“Anything for my pretty lady.” Your face warmed at his compliment. You tried to relax but you were so nervous. It had been awhile since you were seen on Figure Eight and you and your friends didn’t exactly have the best track record with the Kooks. You hoped no one would really notice you, but you knew that would be nearly impossible when you were going to the Country Club with Rafe Cameron.
Rafe noticed your leg shaking and sighed. He rested a hand on your thigh and glanced at you. “Hey, you’re good, okay? I promise. You think I’d let anything happen to you, huh? Answer me.”
“No…” you muttered as you looked over at him. “I’m just nervous, Rafe. You know I’m not exactly… welcome at the Club.”
His jaw ticks at the mention of your friends but he decides now isn’t a good time to berate them. “Fuck that. You’re with me, not your little friends, alright? You’re okay. Nobody in here is gonna say shit to you.”
You let out a deep breath and nod your head. Rafe tells you he loves you and presses a quick kiss to your temple as he pulls into the parking lot. “Let’s go get some Mai Tais, yeah?”
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The atmosphere felt more relaxed after your second Mai Tai. Rafe was animatedly telling you stories about his high school days as if you’d been complete strangers back then. You were trying to recover from laughing at him when he mentioned going to the bathroom.
You watched him walk away before turning your attention to the beautiful sunset outside. You smiled as you got up and went to take a picture to show Rafe.
As you walked, you ignored the whispers and stares from a group of older women who were sitting on the patio. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and exhaled before holding your phone up and snapping a picture.
You didn’t acknowledge them as you walked back inside to your table, where Rafe was waiting for you. He smiled when he saw you coming back.
“I was wondering where you ran off to.” He reaches for your hand across the table as you get settled back in your seat.
“I just wanted to take a picture of the sunset. It looks so pretty!” You gushed as you opened your phone and turned it around to show him the picture.
“Damn, yeah. That’s beautiful, baby.” You nodded as you laid your phone down on the table, directing your full attention back to your boyfriend.
The two of you continued talking about anything and everything. You were actually starting to think maybe it wasn’t so bad over here.
Until someone cleared their throat beside you.
You and Rafe turned your heads and you smiled awkwardly when you realized it was the group of ladies from the patio.
“Can we help you?” Rafe asked. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he scanned their faces, trying to see if he recognized any of them.
“Your little… girlfriend stole my wallet.” The lady spat. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Anxiety coursed through you like electricity.
“Excuse me?” Your boyfriend stood up. The lady took a step back as Rafe towered over her.
“You heard me, Rafe. She walked outside, pretending to take a photo of the sunset and swiped it.” She crossed her arms before walking right in front of you, crowding your space. “Give it back.”
“I-I don’t have your wallet.” You stuttered as tears formed in your eyes. “I promise.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, security!” The older woman yelled.
Your eyes widened and your breathing became rapid as all eyes fell onto you. Your hands shook and your body trembled as two huge men began walking towards your table.
“Alright, this is a little unnecessary. Everybody just needs to calm down.” Rafe tried to step in between the two of you, but she stood firm. His nostrils flared as security finally reached you.
“Yes ma’am?” The taller man asked. The older woman sneered at you before speaking to him.
“This pogue took my wallet and she won’t give it back.”
“Is this true, ma’am?” Everyone was looking at you- Rafe, the security guards, the women- everyone.
“N-no! I would never do that! I promise!” You silently pleaded with Rafe to do something, but he was frozen.
“She would ‘never do that’ but didn’t her friends just get caught stealing a cross out of a train?” The shorter security guard muttered to his coworker. The taller man squinted and looked you up and down before speaking again.
“Empty your bag.” He said, a little too sternly for Rafe’s liking.
“Hey man, come on-“ Rafe tried but was shut down.
“Not now, Cameron. Empty your bag before I do it for you.” The security guard took one step closer to you and you snatched your bag up shakily before dumping the contents out onto the table.
When your wallet landed on the table, the guard snatched it up and inspected it. “Is this yours, ma’am?” He asked, making the older lady roll her eyes.
“Are you serious?” Her friends snickered behind her at your old, thrifted wallet.
He shrugged and threw it back on the table. “Well, I don’t see any other wallets, do you?”
The old lady snatched your bag up and shook it upside down. When nothing came out, she tossed it back on the table and let out a quiet “hmph.”
“Guess not.” The guards shrugged and walked away. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked towards Rafe.
“She clearly doesn’t have it, alright? Go back to your fuckin’ crochet and leave her alone.” The older ladies rolled their eyes and walked away, but not before whispering about how they “just know you have her wallet somewhere.”
“Hey, baby, talk to me.” You shook your head as you quietly put everything back in your purse. “Baby.”
You huffed as you slung your bag over your shoulder and quickly walked out of the club. Rafe tried to follow you, but you were already gone by the time he got out the door.
“Fuck.” He said to himself as he ran a hand over his hair before getting in his truck.
⋆.ೃ࿔* ੈ✩˚₊ 𓆩♡𓆪 ･*:.｡.☆..｡.
Rafe had been looking everywhere for you. He drove in and out of neighborhoods and up and down roads. He slammed his fists against his steering wheel before trying your number for the 20th time. When you didn’t answer, he texted you. He stared at your contact photo for what felt like forever before he realized something.
Your location was still on.
Your boyfriend felt a wave of relief wash over him as he clicked on your location and saw where you were at- the beach, of course. You always went there after a bad day. He wanted to kick himself for not realizing that sooner.
“I’m coming, baby.” He said as he put his truck in reverse and made his way to you.
⋆.ೃ࿔* ੈ✩˚₊ 𓆩♡𓆪 ･*:.｡.☆..｡.
He didn’t say anything when he found you. Rafe just walked over to you and sat down. When he realized you were still crying, he put his arm around your shoulder and tried to bring you closer to him, but you pushed away.
“Hey, woah. What’s that for?” He asked with furrowed brows.
“What’s that for, Rafe? Seriously?” You wiped the tears from your face as you turned to look at him. “I just got fucking berated by a bunch of old hags and some security guards and you didn’t do anything!”
“I’m sorry.” He says, trying to read your face.
“Yeah, I bet.” You shake your head as more tears fall.
“Look at me.” Rafe’s hand cups your face as he forces you to look into his eyes. “I really am sorry, baby. I know it won’t fix what happened, but I am. I should’ve said something. I should’ve defended you, but I didn’t.”
He paused for a second, giving you room to speak. When you stayed quiet, he kept going. “I thought I was making things better but I just made them worse.”
You closed your eyes. Between the drinks, food, crying, and running, you were completely exhausted. You sighed as you looked away from Rafe and hugged your legs, bringing your knees under your chin.
Without another word, Rafe slipped his jacket off and threw it over your shoulders before pulling you into him. You let yourself curl into his side and closed your eyes.
The two of you stared at the ocean until you fell asleep, not missing how your boyfriend kept kissing the top of your head and muttering “I’m sorry” and “I love you” into your hair.
warnings: 18+ mdni!! smut, rough sex, degradation, praise, choking, possession, dacryphilia, creampie, overstimulation, multiple positions, choking, light pain play(???),language, petty behavior, tension, arguing, boyfriend!rafe, light manhandling, detailed descriptions of emotion and body language, established relationship
words: 10.3k
note- based on this ask. i hope this is good enough????
it started with the way he’s leaning in the doorway. one shoulder pressed to the frame, the other hand dragging down his jaw like he’s keeping himself from saying something worse than what’s already passed between you. he’s looking at you like he can’t decide if he wants to apologize or snap, and that flicker in his eyes tells you he’s def closer to the second option
“you’re really not gonna drop this?” his voice is rough, impatient, like you’ve been circling the same point for hours
“drop it?” you repeat, eyebrows shooting up. “rafe, you literally flirted with her right in front of me”
he groans, head tipping back against the frame like he’s physically exhausted from hearing you talk. “it wasn’t flirting. i was just being nice.”
“you touche her arm,” you remind him, each word deliberate, pointed. “you laughed at every dumb thing she said, and you let her stand there with her hand on your chest for, like, thirty whole seconds.”
“i was talking,” he bites back, stepping further into the room. “what do you want me to do, shove her away?”
you cross your arms, holding his gaze without flinching. “oh, god forbid you be rude to some random girl who’s clearly into you. wouldn’t want to bruise her ego.”
his jaw tenses, and his nostrils flare in that way they do when he’s about two seconds from losing it. “you’re making this into something it’s not.”
“no,” you say, taking a small step toward him, just enough to make your point sting. “i’m calling it what it is. and what it is, is you enjoying the attention.”
the corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smirk, but not quite—and you can tell it’s the wrong thing for him to do right now “you’re jealous,” he says, he’s testing you.
you laugh, sharp and humorless. “i’m not jealous. i just don’t like my boyfriend actig like he’s single.”
rafe takes another step, close enough now that you can smell the faint bite of his cologne, but you hold your ground “you think i’m gonna leave you for her?” his tone is almost mocking, but there’s an edge under it, like he’s daring you to answer wrong.
“no,” you admit, tilting your head, “but you sure as hell didn’t look like you remembered you had me.”
he stares at you for a beat, breathing heavier now, and you can see his knuckles flexing like he’s resisting the urge to grab you “you’re being dramatic,” he mutters, but it’s quieter this time, almost like he knows he’s losing the upper hand.
you smile, stepping back just enough to put space between you. “or maybe you just don’t like when i’m right.”
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, and you watch the muscles in his jaw shift as he grinds his teeth “you’re not gonna let this go?”
you shrug, pretending to think. “not tonight.”
he scoffs, a sharp sound that bounces off the walls. “don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing at topper’s party last month.”
your stomach drops, heat rushing straight to your face. “excuse me?”
“you heard me,” he says, his voice rising now. “standing there with evan, all giggly and leaning into him like you didn’t know i was right there.”
you blink at him, stunned—not because you don’t remember it, but because he has the audacity to pull it out like some kind of gotcha moment “rafe, are you serious? evan is literally your friend. and i wasn’t touching him. i was talking. but you? you let that girl pet you like a damn golden retriever in front of half the island.”
“you’re exaggerating,” he snaps, his voice sharp.
you laugh, but it’s loud and humorless, a sound that makes him flinch just slightly “oh, fuck it. you know what? fine. you want to act like that? then i’m done.”
his brows knit together, confusion sliding over his anger. “done with what?”
“done letting you touch me until you learn how to act like my boyfriend and not a sixteen year old boy who just figured out what attention from women feels like,” you spit, every word dripping with venom. “call that bitch if you’re so desperate for hands on you. maybe she’ll scratch behind your ears too.”
he stares at you like you just slapped him, chest rising and falling hard. “you’re joking.”
“nope,” you say, popping the “p” and crossing your arms again. “i’m not fucking you, not kissing you, not letting you so much as put a hand on my thigh until you remember who you’re with.”
he lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t be serious.”
you tilt your chin up, holding his gaze without blinking. “watch.me.”
his eyes narrow, and you can see the tension knotting in his jaw, the way his fists curl like he’s debating whether to argue or grab you and make you take it back. but you don’t move. you just stand there, smug in your silence, letting the weight of your words hang between you until it’s suffocating
your voice cuts through the thick, tense quiet. “i decided,” you say, steady and unflinching, “no sex until then, rafe.”
he blinks at you like he didn’t hear you right, then lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh “you’re out of your mind.”
“maybe,” you shrug, shifting your weight onto one hip, “but at least i’m not letting some random guy rub his fingers down my shirt while my boyfriend watches.”
he steps closer, slow but deliberate, like a predator testing the distance to its prey “you think you can play this little game with me? cut me off? punish me like i’m” he stops himself, exhaling hard through his nose, eyes raking over your face
you hold his stare, refusing to budge. “you said i was being dramatic. fine. call it whatever you want. but until you can go a whole night without acting like the lead in some bad high school rom com, you’re not getting anything from me.”
his jaw tightens, and he tips his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re bluffing. “you’re serious.”
“dead serious.”
his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, and you can see the way his hands twitch at his sides, the restless frustration boiling just under his skin. “you’re gonna regret saying that.”
“we’ll see,” you shoot back, voice cool, even though your heart’s hammering. “until then, maybe find something else to keep your hands busy.”
he stares at you for a beat like you’ve grown a second head, chest still rising and falling a little too fast for the calm tone he forces out next “oh, c’mon, baby. don’t be this way.”
his voice is lower now, coaxing, that half pleading lilt that’s meant to melt you down, make you forget the heat in your own blood. normally, it works. right now, it just irritates you more
you arch a brow, crossing your arms tighter. “this way?”
“yeah,” he says, stepping forward, palms out “this whole… punishment thing. it’s crazy.”
“punishment?” you echo, tilting your head, feigning confusion. “oh, so you admit you deserve one?”
his mouth opens, closes, the corner twitching like he’s trying not to smirk. “that’s not what i said.”
“mm. sounded like it to me.”
he groans quietly, dragging a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s trying to keep himself in check. “look…i was out of line, alright?”
you tap a finger against your arm, unimpressed. “out of line? rafe, you let her touch you for half a minute like i wasn’t standing right there. that’s not ‘out of line,’ that’s”
“baby,” he cuts in, the word sharp, desperate, like if he says it enough you’ll soften.
but you don’t. you just glare, tilting your chin higher. “don’t ‘baby’ me.”
he sighs, stepping closer again, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “it didn’t mean anything. i wasn’t even thinking about her. you’re—”
“don’t finish that sentence,” you snap, and the way his lips twitch says he was about to feed you something sweet enough to rot your teeth, anything to drag you off your high horse.
you shake your head. “you’re not talking your way out of this, rafe.”
his eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance breaking through his practiced patience. “so what, you’re just gonna ice me out over something this small?”
“this small?” you repeat, incredulous. “god, you’re lucky i’m not kicking you out until you learn some manners.”
“manners,” he mutters, like the word tastes bitter in his mouth. “jesus, you make it sound like i slapped her ass in front of you.”
you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “you might as well have. you looked like you were enjoying it.”
“i wasn’t,” he says quickly, too quickly. “i was just being—”
“nice,” you finish for him, mocking his earlier excuse. “yeah, i heard that one already. didn’t buy it the first time.”
he blows out a slow breath, shaking his head. “you’re really not gonna let this go.”
“nope,” you answer, popping the “p,” again because you know it gets under his skin.
he studies you for a second, jaw flexing, then takes a deliberate step forward until you’re practically chest to chest. his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to grab your hips and force you to listen. “i didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“but you did,” you counter, matching his stare.
his lips part, and for a second, it looks like he might say sorry—might actually give you the thing you’ve been waiting for. instead all he gives you is “you’re my girl. you know that.”
you laugh under your breath, sharp and humorless “oh, that’s comforting. ‘my girl’ who gets to watch other girls paw at you.”
he swallows, throat working, the muscle in his jaw ticking again. “i don’t want them. i want you.”
“you’re impossible,” he mutters when he sees your blank stare, but there’s no heat in it just frustration.
“and you’re not touching me until you stop being impossible,” you shoot back instantly.
he lets out a dry laugh, leaning back half an inch like he’s trying to study you from a safer distance. “you think you can hold out longer than me?”
you shrug. “i know i can.”
“baby—”
“stop calling me that.”
his jaw works agai, but he doesn’t stop moving closer until his hands are braced on either side of you, caging you in against the wall. “you’re killing me.”
you tilt your head, feigning innocence “good.”
his eyes darken, and for a split second you can see it—the moment he considers throwing your little rule out the window, pinning you here until you’re too wrecked to remember why you were mad. but you keep your chin up, keep your mouth curled into that smug little smirk that you know drives him insane.
“you’re serious about this,” he says finally, low and disbelieving.
“dead serious, rafe.”
he huffs out a humorless laugh, dropping his head forward so his forehead almost brushes yours. “you’re gonna cave.”
“we’ll see,” you whisper back, sweet and taunting.
his fingers flex against the wall, and he mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch before pushing off and pacing a few steps away like he needs the distance to keep from doing something reckless.
you watch him, unbothered, leaning against the wall with your arms still crossed like you’ve already won. because in your mind, you hav
he runs a hand down his face, groaning. “this is actually insane.”
“what’s insane,” you say lightly, “is thinking you can let some girl touch you and still get to crawl into my bed like nothing happened.”
he turns back to you, eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension still buzzing in the room. “you’re evil.”
you grin, slow and unapologetic. “thank you.”
he shakes his head, muttering something about how you’re gonna drive him to an early grave, but there’s no mistaking the heat in his stare as it lingers on you, like he’s already plotting exactly how he’s going to make you pay when you finally cave.
you let the silence stretch for a beat, watching him breathe hard, watching the way his hands won’t stay still—rubbing at the back of his neck, running over his jaw, curling into fists at his sides. then, like you’re just remembering something casual, you tilt your head.
“oh, by the way—”
he freezes, suspicious. “what.”
“about that whole slapping her ass thing you mentioned earlier…” you let it hang, watching his eyes narrow, “…you thought about it or what? you do it when i’m not with you?”
his whole face tightens. “jesus christ, no—”
“hm,” you hum, pretending to think it over like you don’t believe him. “just checking. since you apparently don’t mind her hands all over you in public, i figured maybe you’re a little more generous in private.”
“baby—”
“don’t ‘baby’ me,” you cut in again, sharp. “just answer the question.”
his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. “you’re acting like—”
“like what?” you challenge, taking a step forward, eyes bright with mock curiosity. “like i don’t trust you? because after tonight, i don’t know if i do.”
he exhales through his nose, short and sharp, raking both hands through his hair. “you’re acting up just to piss me off now.”
you smile sweetly, leaning against the counter like you’ve settled in for the long haul. “maybe i am.”
his head snaps toward you, eyes dark, voice low and tight. “you love pushing me, don’t you?”
“depends,” you say, shrugging one shoulder. “do you love giving me reasons to?”
he runs his tongue over his teeth, pacing a few steps away like he’s trying to physically walk off the frustration. “you’re out of control right now.”
you lift your brows, biting back a smirk. “nah, just making sure we’re on the same page. so—you didn’t, right? no ass slapping when i’m not there?”
he turns back to you, breathing hard now, and you can see the storm building in his expression—the way his restraint is starting to fray, the way his hands curl like he’s imagining them on you.
“no,” he grits out, each letter bitten off.
“good,” you say simply, like the conversation’s over, like you haven’t just shoved him another inch toward the edge.
you turn on your heel without another word, crossing the room toward the bedroom. you can feel his eyes on you the whole way, heavy and heated, like he’s debating whether to follow or let you have your little show.
“where are you going, baby? c’mon,” he calls after you, voice rougher now, like the frustration’s finally seeping through the cracks.
you glance over your shoulder just long enough to meet his gaze. “i’m going to sleep, rafe.”
“sleep,” he repeats, like it’s a foreign concept.
“yep,” you say, pushing the bedroom door halfway closed behind you. “and like i told you—no closeness from me.”
he laughs once, dry and humorless, but it’s edged with disbelief. “you’re really sticking to this.”
you lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms, watching him stand there in the living room, jaw tight, hands flexing. “dead serious,” you repeat, calm as ever.
“baby—”
“goodnight, rafe,” you cut in, voice light, almost sing song. and before he can get another word in, you shut the door the rest of the way, leaving him on the other side with nothing but his own frustration to keep him company.
it’s been three days. three whole days since the argument, and you’ve been meticulous about the punishment. not cold enough to seem like you’ve stopped loving him, but sharp enough that he feels the sting every time he looks at you.
you still eat with him—because you’re not heartless—but your fork scrapes your plate with more attention than his presence at the table. your eyes skim over him, once, maybe twice, before you return to scrolling your phone or sipping your drink. you kissed him once, on instinct, a quick brush of lips when he leaned in before work, but you pulled back immediately, leaving him standing there like you’d ripped the ground out from under him.
and rafe—oh, rafe is unraveling.
the first night, he tried to play it cool. sat too close to you on the couch, hand stretching over to your thigh like nothing had changed, only to feel you peel his fingers away with the smallest shake of your head. the second night, he came home with a bag from your favorite place, setting it on the counter like peace offerings from a defeated soldier. “thought of you,” he said, voice hopeful, but you only hummed, thanked him, and went right back to the book you were pretending to be absorbed in.
by the third night, the cracks were showing. he’s followed you around the apartment like a restless shadow, muttering compliments like he’s tossing lines out on a hook, hoping one will reel you back in. “you look so good in that shirt.” “you smell fuckin’ sweet, you know that?” “nobody’s like you, baby.” and still—you brush past him, let his words roll off you like water.
tonight, though, he’s desperate.
“babe,” his voice calls from the living room, rough with something between exhaustion and need. you’re at the kitchen sink, rinsing your glass, pretending you didn’t hear him.
you sigh, setting the glass upside down on the drying rack, and finally glance over your shoulder. “what.”
he’s leaning against the doorway, hair pushed back messily like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times today. his eyes are dark, restless, his jaw tight. “i swear on my life, i only want you. you know that, right?”
you hum, noncommittal, and turn back to the sink.
“no, hey—look at me.” his voice cracks on the edge of frustration.
you wipe your hands on a towel before turning, slow, folding your arms across your chest. “i’m looking.”
he runs a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “i even called topper and kelce. asked them to tell you themselves—that girl? she’s no one. i don’t even have her number, don’t even know her last name. they’ll back me up. i’ll put them on speaker right now if you want.”
your brows lift, impressed in spite of yourself. “you really called your friends to give me a character reference?”
“yes,” he says immediately, stepping closer, voice insistent. “because i’m losing my mind here, baby. you don’t get it—I can’t stand this. not touching you, not having you.”
you fight the smirk tugging at your lips, tilt your head like you’re weighing your options. “hm. sounds like a you problem.”
rafe’s chest rises sharply, and for a moment, he looks like he might actually fall to his knees just to prove his point.
he wanted to scream. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you understood that it was nothing—that you’re everything. but he also knew that if he touched you, if he broke your little rules now, you’d slip further out of reach. so he didn’t.
he’s never felt this restless in his life. not during football, not during boxing, not even in rehab when he was climbing the walls with withdrawal. this is different. this is worse. because he can see you, touch you if he wanted, but you’ve drawn a line, and crossing it means losing you for real.
and god, it’s all because of a fucking mistake. he didn’t even realize he was doing it. didn’t realize his laugh was a little too sharp, his hand lingering a little too long when she touched him. didn’t realize you were standing there, watching his every move like a hawk. he wasn’t thinking of her—he never thinks of anyone but you—but the optics were bad. he knows that. he knows he fucked up.
but the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. not touching you, not tasting you, not even being allowed to run a hand down your side when you walk past..it’s hell. it’s worse than hell. it’s like watching the only thing that matters to him dangle just out of reach, knowing he put it there himself.
he lies awake at night, staring at the ceiling while you breathe slow and steady beside him, just inches away but galaxies out of reach. his hands clench and unclench against the sheets, every muscle wound tight with frustration. he wants to pull you on top of him, cage you against him until you forgive him, until you believe him. but instead, he stares at the ceiling and listens to your calm, even breaths, while his chest aches with a cocktail of guilt, anger, and desire that has nowhere to go.
three days. he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.
he knows it’s punishment. he knows you’re teaching him a lesson. but god, it’s driving him insane.
he swallows hard, runs a hand through his hair. “fuck, baby… please. i’m begging you. i’ll take anything. you don’t have to—” his voice cracks, and he clears his throat, softer now, almost broken, “—you don’t have to give me all of you. just… something. a kiss. a hug. fuckin’—hold my hand, i don’t care.”
your heart lurches at the crack in his voice, but you keep your expression smooth, tilting your head like you’re considering it. “hm. a kiss, huh?”
“yeah,” he says quickly, leaning forward, hope burning bright in his eyes. “just a kiss. not even—” he gestures helplessly toward his mouth, “—not even on the lips. just… a kiss. anywhere. i don’t care if it’s on the fuckin’ cheek. i just need—” he stops, biting the inside of his cheek, then mutters low, “—i just need you.”
you set your phone down slowly, and shift onto your knees on the couch. his eyes track your every move, wide, hungry, like a man watching water pour after three days in the desert. you crawl closer, your hands planting on the cushion by his thighs, and his breath hitches when you lean in.
“a kiss on the cheek?” you murmur, lips hovering so close to his skin that he can feel your breath.
“please,” he whispers, voice hoarse.
you hold his gaze for a long moment, then press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning back just as quickly.
his whole body tenses, chest rising sharply like you’d just fed him oxygen.
and then you smile, saccharine and smug, and murmur, “here you go, buddy.”
the word slams into him harder than your withdrawal ever could. buddy. like you’re patting him on the head, like you’re giving him scraps. his jaw works, his fists clench against his thighs, and for a second, he looks like he might actually snap—might grab you and kiss you until you can’t breathe, punishment be damned.
but you’re already leaning back, picking up your phone again, eyes dropping to the screen like the moment meant nothing. rafe sits there, cheek burning where your lips touched him, chest aching with frustration, every nerve in his body sparking with the need to pull you against him.
rafe is still sitting there with your kiss burning into his cheek like a brand, watching you pick up your phone again like you hadn’t just dismantled him with three words. here you go, buddy. it echoes in his skull, twisting in his gut, and he can’t take the quiet between you anymore.
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on you like a hawk. “how long do you plan on keeping this up?” his voice is low, rough, like he already hates himself for asking.
you don’t even look up from your phone. you hum, draw the pause out until he’s practically vibrating. finally, you tilt your head, lips curling just slightly. “hm… seven days total.”
seven. his head drops back against the couch with a groan that sounds ripped out of his chest. “fuck.”
you smirk at your screen, pretending not to see the way his whole body sags.
“baby, please,” he drags out, desperation seeping into his tone. “seven days? that’s torture. this is torture.” he rakes both hands down his face, palms dragging over his jaw, his voice cracking as he mutters, “i can’t even go one more hour without touching you. not kissing you, not even—fuck—just having you close.”
he tips forward again, elbows digging into his thighs, his eyes wild when they lock onto yours. “you don’t get it. i’m crawling out of my fuckin’ skin. i can’t sleep, i can’t think. you walk past me and i swear to god my chest hurts from not reaching for you.”
you shift slightly, phone slipping lower in your hand, though you still try to look unaffected. “sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?”
“it is a me problem,” he snaps back instantly, then softens, voice breaking. “but it’s also a you problem, ‘cause you’re mine. you’re supposed to let me hold you. i need you, baby.”
the last line lands heavy between you, raw enough that it slices through the armor you’ve built these last three days. you sigh, setting your phone down on the cushion, and crawl closer—not much, just enough to put yourself in his orbit again.
his eyes flicker, hope flaring bright and desperate.
“alright,” you murmur finally, slow and deliberate. “you can hold my hand.”
he blinks at you, like he misheard, then his hand shoots out before you can take it back. he grabs your smaller one in his, clutching it like it’s a lifeline, like if he holds it tight enough he’ll stop unraveling. his thumb drags over your knuckles, over and over, and his shoulders sag with a shuddering exhale.
“jesus christ,” he mutters, almost to himself, staring at your hands like they’re something sacred. “feels like i haven’t touched you in years.”
you roll your eyes, but your lips twitch despite yourself. “it’s been three days, drama queen.”
he shakes his head, squeezing your hand tighter, voice dropping into something rough, nearly broken. “three days too fuckin’ long.”
and you let him hold you there, your hand warm and trapped in his big, desperate one, watching the relief melt across his face like you’d just handed him oxygen after letting him drown.
he doesn’t let go. if anything, the second your hand is in his, he clutches it tighter, like he’s terrified you’ll change your mind. his thumb keeps sweeping over your knuckles, slow, reverent, like he can’t quite believe he’s allowed even this much.
then, suddenly, he brings your hand to his mouth “i can do this, right?” his voice is hushed, almost pleading, lips brushing your skin. “this doesn’t break the rules.”
before you can answer, he presses a kiss to your knuckles. then another. then another.
he doesn’t stop. his mouth traces every line, every angle, moving from the base of your fingers to the tips, kissing each one like it’s a vow. his eyes stay locked on yours, dark and burning, as if daring you to pull away.
“so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice breaking at the edges. “you’re perfect, baby. i don’t want anyone but you—don’t even see anyone but you.” another kiss, soft but desperate, to the space between your fingers. “shouldn’t have let it happen. shouldn’t have been so fuckin’ careless. i’m sorry.”
you swallow hard, watching the way he worships your hand like it’s the only part of you he’s allowed to touch. his lips drag slowly across your palm, warm breath ghosting over your skin, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he holds yours like it’s made of glass.
“i’ll do better,” he whispers, words almost frantic now, kissing across your knuckles again. “i’ll prove it. i’ll be the boyfriend you deserve—swear to god, baby, i’ll make it right. just don’t—don’t pull away from me, please.”
he turns your hand over, mouth trailing along the inside of your wrist, and the brush of his lips against your pulse makes you shiver. “you feel that?” he murmurs, kissing the spot again. “that’s yours. always yours.”
he keeps going—praise spilling from him in broken fragments between each kiss.
“so good to me.”
“don’t deserve you, fuck.”
“i’m yours. only yours.”
and through it all, he doesn’t stop kissing, doesn’t stop caressing your hand like it’s the last tether holding him together.
he’s still kissing along your knuckles like it’s the only thing keeping him alive when he suddenly scoffs against your skin, the sound half choked, half amused. his lips brush your fingers as he mutters, “this is so stupid, baby. seven days without sex? you’re killing me.”
you yank your hand slightly, just enough to make him tighten his grip in panic, but your voice is cool when you warn, “i’m not allowing you to hold my hand anymore if you whine.”
his head snaps up, blue eyes wide, a groan ripping out of him before he quickly shakes his head, pressing hurried kisses back onto your knuckles. “no, no—alright, alright. i won’t whine.” he smirks faintly though, the edge of his frustration leaking through. “won’t hold your hand either if that’s what you want.”
he pauses, the smirk spreading, darker now, wicked in the way only rafe can manage. his voice drops low, rough“but i might just hold your head down,” he drawls, his thumb sweeping slow over your palm, “while i pound your anger away.”
the words hang heavy, filthy in the quiet of the room, his mouth still brushing the back of your hand like he hadn’t just said something that could crack your little punishment wide open. his eyes glitter, daring you to take your hand away now, daring you to call his bluff.
but he doesn’t stop kissing, doesn’t stop worshiping. he just laces the softness with his threat, with the kind of promise that makes your stomach flip—even while you force your face to stay cold.
rafe is actually dead. like… deceased, rotting, slowly drying out like a flower left in the sun with no water. at least that’s what he looks like to you on day seven.
his eyes are dark rimmed, like he hasn’t slept in a week—which he hasn’t, not properly. he keeps shifting in his seat at the dining table like he can’t find comfort in his own skin. his hair is a mess, because every time you brush past him without touching, he’s dragging his hands through it in frustration. he’s unraveling, and the worst part for him is that you’re fine.
you’ve held on strong these seven days. shockingly strong, even to yourself. even when you went out together—groceries, grabbing takeout, the quick trip to see sarah and john b—you kept the rules airtight. no sneaky lapses, no bending.
at best, you let him hold your hand if he was lucky. if he behaved. if you decided he earned it. and maybe, maybe, you let him kiss it once or twice if he was being an especially good boy.
but it was never about starving him of affection for the sake of it. not really. it was about setting your boundaries straight, drawing a line in thick, permanent ink, so he could see it and never pretend he didn’t know where it stood.
you weren’t going to be with a boyfriend who acted like a sixteen year old boy just discovering attention from women. you weren’t going to tolerate the sideways glances, the careless touches, the blurred lines he thought you wouldn’t notice. if he wanted you, he was going to prove it.
this wasn’t about punishing him. it was about teaching him. about showing him what you refused to accept, and how quickly you’d take away the very thing he thought he was entitled to—the closeness, the touch, the sweetness he burned for like oxygen.
you wanted him to know: you won’t love a whore of a boyfriend. you won’t let yourself be diminished to just another option in his orbit.
and he knows it now. oh, does he know it. you can see it in the way he watches you tonight, chin in his hand at the table while you scroll on your phone across from him. he doesn’t even try to disguise it anymore. he stares like a starving man, like you’ve stripped him bare this whole week and he’s down to the bones of who he is without you.
seven days. seven days of listening to him groan, beg, mutter half apologies under his breath at two in the morning. seven days of him trying to fold himself around you on the couch only to be met with your hand pressed to his chest, holding him back. seven days of his jaw flexing every time you got dressed in front of him, every time you stretched, every time you looked too good just existing.
seven days of you reminding him, without words, that love has rules. and if he wants to keep you, he’s going to learn them.
you pad into the bedroom with damp hair and clean pajamas, steam still clinging to your skin from the shower you took alone. like every night this week. the bathroom door clicks shut behind you, and the silence in the room thickens. rafe’s already on the bed, flat on his back, arms folded behind his head like he’s trying not to move, like even shifting might make you pull further away.
you can feel his eyes track you from the second you step inside. his stare burns down your legs, up your body, sticky and restless, like he hasn’t seen you naked in years—even though he saw you step into that same shower fifteen minutes ago.
the room smells faintly like his cologne. the sheets are rumpled from where he’s been tossing and turning, from the nights you kept to your side of the bed, a whole ocean of mattress between you.
you miss him. of course you fucking do. you miss the easy intimacy of showering together, his big hands working shampoo into your hair while you lean against his chest. you miss how he’d tilt your head back under the stream, rinse you off, kiss the water from your lips before you could blink.
you miss eating from the same plate while perched on his lap, his fork pushing food to your mouth like you couldn’t feed yourself.
you miss sleeping with his arm around your waist, thigh hooked over yours, the comforting weight of him keeping you pinned, tethered. you miss waking up to find yourself practically strangled by his limbs, chest to chest, heartbeats thudding against each other in perfect rhythm.
and he misses it more. you can tell in every twitch of his fingers, in the way his throat works when you drop your towel into the laundry basket, in the way his jaw clenches when you slip into bed without even brushing against him.
he doesn’t last long tonight. the air is too heavy. his patience, too frayed.
as you crawl under the covers and roll to your side, he turns his head, his voice low and wrecked “it’s been seven days already, baby.”
not angry, not sharp. just broken. reverent. like he can’t believe you’ve survived this long without touching him. like he’s surprised he has.
and you hear the weight in it, the plea wrapped in the simple count of days. the confession that seven has been hell, that seven has been more than enough to crack him open.
“it wasn’t about the days, rafe,” you murmur into the pillow, voice even but weighted, like you’ve been waiting the whole week to say it out loud.
he shifts instantly, his body turning toward yours, frustration bleeding into his face, his tone. “you made your point, okay? you win. you fucking win. i’m a jerk and i deserved it. there.” his hands fling upward in defeat, then rake through his hair, tugging at the strands. “you got what you wanted.”
you whip around, eyes flashing, anger rising sharp because he still doesn’t get it. “fuck ,you—don’t even understand, do you?” your voice cuts, sharper than you mean, but it has to pierce through. “it’s not about who won. it’s not about the fucking days.”
his jaw tightens. he looks confused, cornered, but you push through it, sitting up against the headboard with your knees pulled close.
“it was about my fucking boundaries, rafe.” your chest heaves with the words. “you made me feel small. like i didn’t matter enough for you to stop and think. you embarrassed me—us. our relationship. do you get that? do you get how humiliating that was?”
your throat feels thick, but you force it out, because if he doesn’t understand now, then he never will. you watch the weight of your words land on him, heavy, dragging his shoulders down, making his lips part like he wants to argue but nothing comes out.
he looks at you like the floor’s been ripped from under him—like he’s finally realizing this wasn’t about punishment at all. this was about respect.
you shove at his chest when he tries to inch closer, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him freeze where he is “i didn’t win, okay?” your voice rises, trembling with fury and ache. “do you think i liked this? do you think i wanted to go seven days without you touching me?”
your eyes blur, hot with frustrated tears, and you swipe at them angrily. “i missed you, rafe. i missed your touch, i missed everything. yes—i missed fucking you, i missed kissing you, i missed you holding me, making me feel like i was yours. i missed all of it.”
your chest heaves, breaths sharp, unsteady. “but i was fucking humiliated. do you get that? you humiliated me. you made me feel like some stupid girl on the sidelines, like i was the only one who didn’t know my boyfriend couldn’t keep his fucking hands to himself.”
the words sting your own throat, but you don’t stop, don’t look away from him. you want him to see the wreckage he caused, the way it twisted in you all week. your voice lowers, but it’s steel when you say, “so no, i didn’t win. i just… refused to lose myself in the process.”
rafe’s face falls, every muscle softening, like you’ve knocked the air out of him. he looks stricken even as his mouth opens and closes, searching for words that can’t even scratch the surface of what he feels right now.
“and before you say anything—” your voice cuts the air before he can even try, your hand raised like a shield, “i appreciate that you kept to yourself for a whole week. i know that wasn’t easy for you. i know you were going fucking insane.”
he blinks at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’s holding his breath.
“but i think it taught both of us something,” you continue, calmer now, though your tone is sharp around the edges, firm. “that our relationship is not just about sex.” your throat tightens, but you hold his gaze, not letting him look away. “we don’t fall apart just because we’re not fucking every night. we’re more than that. i need us to be more than that. i need to know i’m not just—” your voice wavers, softer, “—something you touch when you’re bored.”
the words hang heavy between you, echoing louder than the silence. rafe shifts, sitting up straighter, his hands balling into fists against the sheets like he wants to reach for you but knows he doesn’t have the right yet. he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to memorize every crack in your expression, every tremble in your voice.
his thighs brush yours, and when you don’t recoil, he exhales shakily, relief flooding through his body. his hands rise—tentative at first—but then he takes your face between his palms, firm, anchoring, making sure you can’t look away from him this time.
“baby. look at me.”
your eyes flicker, wet, stubborn, but you do. and when you do, his chest caves a little, because the sight of you like this—hurt because of him, holding yourself together in spite of him—it kills him.
“you think you’re just something i touch when i’m bored?” his voice is low, but sharp, as if the words themselves offend him. his thumbs press against your cheekbones, not rough, but enough to force your eyes to stay locked on his. “fuck no. don’t you ever say that again.”
his breath comes heavy through his nose, his jaw working like he’s fighting to hold himself together. “you are it for me. do you hear me? not some girl i toss around, not some toy i get bored of. it.”
he leans closer, so close his forehead nearly presses against yours. “you’re my fucking oxygen, baby. you’re the reason i even… the reason i’m even trying to be better at all.”
his voice cracks on the last words, but he swallows them down, shaking his head like he needs you to understand before you can even try to argue.
“i fucked up. i touched her, i let it get too far—yeah, i know. i did that. and you’re right to be pissed, you’re right to set your boundaries. i needed that. i needed you to pull me back and make me realize i can’t just… slip into old shit, old habits, and think it doesn’t matter. because it does. you matter.”
he squeezes your cheeks lightly between his palms, not letting you glance away, not letting your mind spiral anywhere but into him. “you think i don’t feel humiliated too? i do. i felt like the biggest fucking idiot in the world when i saw your face. i never wanna see that look on you again, baby. never.”
his voice drops, darker now, a growl curling at the edges. “i don’t give a fuck about anyone else. those other girls, the eyes, the bullshit? i don’t even see them when you’re around. and when you’re not? i’m still thinking about you. how you laugh, how you get mad at me, how you taste when i kiss you. it’s always you. it’s only you.”
you swallow, your lips parting like you want to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance.
“you taught me something this week too. you’re right—it’s not just about sex. and fuck, i hated it. every second of not having you on me, every time you pulled away when i reached for you—I thought i was gonna lose my mind.”
he huffs out a bitter laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth even as he holds you still. “but it showed me something. that i can still love you, still want you, still need you, without touching you. that you’re not here just because i fuck you—you’re here because you choose me. and i need to make sure you never regret that choice.”
his tone hardens, his grip on your face firmer, dominant now, grounding you in the weight of him. “so listen to me. i’m not that sixteen yearold kid you accused me of being. i don’t want attention from anyone else. i don’t want anyone else’s hands, anyone else’s eyes. i want yours. i want the way you look at me like i’m something worth keeping. i want the way you get jealous, the way you fight with me, the way you love me so hard it scares the fuck out of me sometimes.”
he presses his forehead against yours now, breathing you in, his hands framing your face like he could mold you into him if he just held tight enough. “you don’t make me feel small, baby. you make me feel fucking huge. like i could take on anything. but when you’re hurt because of me?” he shakes his head, voice breaking low. “that makes me feel like nothing. like i’m gonna crawl out of my skin.”
his thumbs stroke over your jaw, rough but reverent. “so yeah. you had to teach me a lesson. you had to remind me that you’re not just mine to hold, you’re mine to respect. and i get it now. i swear to god, i get it.”
his lips brush your cheek, soft, lingering, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “but i need you to hear this—” his voice sharpens again, commanding, absolute. “—you are mine. not as some accessory, not as some body to keep me entertained. you’re mine in every way that matters. your heart, your trust, your boundaries. i’ll protect those with everything i’ve got. because if i lose them? i lose you. and i’ll never let that happen.”
he tilts your chin up, eyes blazing into yours, his breath hot against your lips though he doesn’t close the gap yet. “do you hear me, baby? never again. i won’t cross you like that again. i’ll fucking die before i embarrass us like that again.”
your eyes are wet, your lip trembling, and he kisses it—just a ghost of a kiss—before pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart. “this? this is what i want. not theirs. not anyone else’s. yours.”
his other hand slides to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer until your noses bump, his dominance seeping through every word, every touch. “so don’t you ever doubt what you mean to me. don’t you ever think you’re small, or replaceable, or just sex. you’re my whole fucking life, baby. i’d burn everything else down if it meant keeping you.”
he breathes you in, desperate, like he’s starving. “say you understand. say you know i’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”
and for the first time in seven days, his voice isn’t just begging—it’s commanding. low, rough, dominant. it leaves you with no space to doubt, no space to feel small again. because rafe won’t let yo
your chest feels like it’s splitting open. all his words—low, rough, relentless—have been battering against your walls until you can’t hold them up anymore. he’s still gripping your face in his big hands, still forcing your eyes to stay on him like he can burn his truth into you if he just keeps talking long enough.
“baby, i swear to god, i’ll never—”
you don’t let him finish. your mouth crashes against his, sudden and wild, teeth clashing, lips bruising. you kiss him like you’ve been starving, like the past seven days were a desert and he’s water. it’s messy, too rough to be soft, all tongue and teeth and pent up fury spilling into the way you drag him closer.
he freezes for a split second—like he can’t quite believe you’ve given in—then groans into your mouth, low and guttural, like the sound’s been stuck in his chest all week. his hands tighten on your face, fingers digging into your jaw as if to make sure you don’t pull away this time.
you nip at his bottom lip, tug it between your teeth, and he hisses, muttering into the kiss, “fuck—baby—”
but you don’t stop, you press harder, tilting your head so you can swallow every apology, every promise he tries to spill between the heat of your mouths.
his words crumble, disjointed as you kiss him rougher, sharper “i’m—so—fucking—sorry—”
each syllable breaks under the weight of your mouth devouring his.
his body lurches forward, dragging you onto his lap, his chest pressed so tight against yours it feels like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. one of his hands slides down, curling around the back of your neck, anchoring you to him as though you might vanish if he loosens his grip even a little.
your fingers fist in his shirt, yanking, tugging, clawing at him with all the frustration you’ve bottled up. it’s not tender—it’s a war. your war, his surrender, and something deep in you revels in the way he moans against your mouth like he’s been broken and rebuilt just for this.
he tries again, breathless between the wet heat of your kiss. “never—again—i swear—”
and you swallow it down, rough and unyielding, like you don’t need the words anymore. like you only want the proof of them burned into your lips, your teeth, your tongue.
his whole body trembles under your touch, his desperation bleeding out of every movement. it’s not just a kiss—it’s him begging for your forgiveness in the only language you’re letting him speak.
and when you finally pull back, panting, lips swollen, his eyes are blown wide, pupils black and wild, his chest heaving like he just sprinted miles.
“fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked, forehead pressing against yours. “don’t stop. please don’t stop.”
your lips crash against his again before he can even finish begging. it’s like your body doesn’t care about your brain anymore—seven days of restraint snapping like a rope pulled too tight.
rafe groans into your mouth, guttural, a sound that feels like it vibrates through his chest into yours. his hands are everywhere at once—one cupping your jaw, thumb dragging across your cheekbone with something feral, the other sliding down to your hip, squeezing bruises into the flesh like he’s reclaiming territory he thought he’d lost.
“fuck, baby,” he breathes against your lips, panting, teeth grazing your mouth, “seven days—seven fucking days—you’re gonna kill me.”
you tug his hair, rough, pulling his head back just enough to glare at him. “then die, rafe,” you spit, lips red and wet, eyes blazing. “you deserved it.”
he smirks, but it’s unhinged, hungry, desperate. “deserved worse,” he growls, dragging your body fully onto his lap, cock straining hot and hard against his sweats. “but you’re not making me wait another second.”
you let him manhandle you, straddle his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. the heat between your legs aches, throbs, humiliates you with how wet you already are after all your stubborn coldness.
his hand slips under your oversized shirt, calloused palm finding bare skin, dragging up until he’s palming your tit, thumb rolling your nipple.
“missed these,” he mutters, biting your jaw, your throat. “fuck, baby, missed everything. missed the way you sound when i’m in you. missed your pussy clenching around me like it was fucking made for me.”
your breath stutters out, shuddering, nails digging into his shoulders. “shut up and fuck me, rafe.”
his laugh is dark, mean, vibrating low in his throat. “nah. not after seven days. you don’t get to rush this.” his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite down on your throat, sucking bruises like he wants to stamp his name there. “gonna take my fucking time. remind you who you belong to.”
you grind down on him, needy, spiteful, and his grip tightens. “fuck—look at you. so fucking wet, i can feel it through my pants.” he ruts up once, letting the thick press of his cock drag along your slit through the fabric. “you missed me, huh? little liar. acting cold, acting tough, but your cunt never lies.”
i hate you,” you gasp, nails clawing down his chest.
“yeah?” he smirks into your skin, breath hot as he mouths down your throat. “you’ll be screaming my name in five minutes.”
your shirt is ripped off—literally ripped, the seam popping as he yanks it up and over your head like he can’t be bothered with patience. his eyes drink you in, wild, pupils swallowing the blue whole.
“god, baby,” he mutters, almost reverent, thumbing your nipple again before sucking it into his mouth, biting, tugging until you whimper. “seven days too long. this body’s mine. all of it. no one else touches you—no one.”
you whine when his mouth leaves you, arching for more.
he shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you, hands pinning your wrists above your head with an iron grip. his cock grinds down between your thighs, and your hips buck up, chasing friction.
“rafe, please,” you finally crack, voice breaking on the need.
please what, baby?” his voice drips with mockery, forehead pressed to yours, sweat already gathering at his hairline. “say it. what do you want?”
“want you,” you choke out, thighs trembling. “want your cock.
his groan is sharp, guttural, like you’ve ripped it from his chest.
he yanks his sweats down, cock slapping against stomach, thick, flushed, precome smearing hot across his skin. “look at that,” he snarls, grabbing the base, slapping it against your pussy until slick strings between you. “seven days and i’m harder than i’ve ever been in my fucking life. all for you. only for you.”
your hips cant up, desperate. “fuck me, rafe.”
he presses the head inside, just barely, not enough to push in. his eyes darken, his grip on your wrists tightening. “say it properly.”
your teeth grit. “please. please fuck me. fuck the condom, just put it in!”
he smirks, satisfied, before shoving in all at once, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.
“fuck!” you cry out, back arching, head slamming back into the pillow.
rafe groans, deep and wrecked, lips parted as he stills inside you for just a second, savoring the way your pussy clamps down around him. “jesus fucking christ, baby,” he mutters, voice broken. “so tight, so wet. you’re choking my cock.”
he pulls back and slams in again, hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall.
your moans rip out, raw, uncontrolled. “rafe—oh my god—”
“that’s it,” he grits out, pounding into you, hips snapping sharp. “that’s what i missed. your voice, those fucking sounds. scream for me. let the whole building know i’m the only one who gets you like this.”
you’re clawing at his back, nails dragging angry red lines. your eyes blur with tears from the stretch, from the overwhelming way he fills you after starving yourself of him for days.
he notices instantly, his pace faltering just enough to press his forehead to yours, one hand coming to cup your cheek roughly. “crying already, baby? that’s mine too. those tears are mine.”
you sob when he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out “fuck, rafe, i—”
“say it,” he growls, snapping his hips faster, slamming into you so hard the bed squeals. “say you’re mine.”
“i’m yours!” you scream, nails digging into his biceps. “fuck—i’m yours, rafe, only yours.”
his mouth crashes onto yours again, wet, rough, stealing your cries and swallowing them down.
“good girl,” he moans into the kiss, pace unrelenting. “knew you couldn’t hold out forever. knew you’d come crawling back for this cock.”
your orgasm hits fast, brutal, tearing through you with white hot pulses. your pussy clenches around him like a vice, and he growls, head thrown back.
“fuck—baby—keep squeezing me like that, i’m gonna—”
he slams into you harder, chasing his own high, and with one last brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, spilling hot inside you with a guttural groan that vibrates in his chest.
he stays buried, grinding shallowly, holding your face between his hands as his come floods you.
his lips find yours again, softer this time, broken murmurs spilling between each kiss. “never again—never fucking again—only you, baby, only you.”
you’re both panting, bodies slick with sweat, his cock still pulsing inside you, keeping you connected even as the world tilts back into silence.
he doesn’t even pull out. you’re still shaking from the first orgasm, body quivering, walls fluttering weakly around his cock when you feel his hand snake down your thigh. before you can catch your breath, before you can even complain that you’re too sensitive, rafe flips you over like you weigh nothing.
your face hits the pillow, ass dragged high into the air, his cock still buried deep, refusing to let you go.
“nah, baby,” he pants, voice wrecked, sweat dripping from his temples as he positions himself over you, chest flush to your back, “you thought i was done? after seven days? you’re fucking insane.”
you whimper into the pillow, cunt clenching involuntarily when he rolls his hips, grinding into you.
“rafe—” you gasp, voice muffled.
“what?” he snarls, one hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so you arch for him. “too much? you think you get to tell me when it’s enough? no fucking way. not after you starved me all week.”
the first thrust knocks the air out of you, sharp, punishing. his hips slap against your ass, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room, and you cry out, tears streaking your face as pleasure and overstimulation collide.
“fuck—fuck—rafe, i can’t—”
“yes you can,” he growls, slamming into you, unrelenting. “you will. you’re mine. you take what i give you.”
your arms give out, collapsing into the sheets, but he’s right there, fisting the back of your neck, keeping you upright while he pounds into you.
“so fucking tight,” he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder, “like your pussy missed me too. did it? did she cry for me when you were trying to play cold?”
“yes!” you sob, broken, raw. “yes, she missed you. i did”
he grins against your skin, teeth scraping over the bite marked curve of your shoulder. “good girl. that’s what i like to hear.”
his hand slips down your stomach, two fingers pressing hard on your clit, rubbing circles that make your thighs tremble. “gonna cum again for me? already? so fucking greedy, baby.”
“please, rafe—”
“please what?” he taunts, fucking you harder, faster, the headboard banging mercilessly against the wall. “beg for it. beg like the needy little slut you are.”
you choke on a sob, back arching, cunt spasming around him. “please—please let me cum—i need it so bad.”
“yeah?” he pants, biting your ear. “then do it. cum for me. soak my cock.”
and you do, your orgasm ripping through you like lightning, your whole body seizing as you scream into the mattress. your pussy milks him, squeezing around him like a vice, dragging a guttural groan from his chest.
“fuck, baby—holy shit—”
he doesn’t stop, not even as you tremble, not even as your walls spasm uncontrollably. he keeps thrusting, chasing his own high, fingers digging bruises into your hips.
“gonna fill you up again,” he snarls, voice gone, broken with lust. “stuff you so full you won’t even remember why you were mad. you’ll just remember who fucking owns you.”
“rafe!” you cry, tears spilling, body overstimulated beyond reason.
he wraps an arm around your waist, hauls you upright so your back is flsh to his chest, his cock still driving into you. his hand comes up to grip your throat, holding your head back against his shoulder as he groans in your ear.
“that’s it, baby. cry for me. take all of it. you’re mine. only mine.”
your legs shake, cunt quivering, and he grunts, hips stuttering as his release crashes over him again.
“fuck—fuck—baby—” he buries himself deep, holding you in place as he spills inside you a second time, grinding against your ass, cock pulsing, filling you until it leaks down your thighs.
you collapse, boneless, and he finally eases his grip, kissing the side of your head, your damp temple, your jaw, like he can’t stop touching you
“never again,” he murmurs, hands splayed over down your stomach to where his come drips out of you. “never fucking again, baby. i’ll die before i let you feel small like that again.”
he’s still inside you, cock softening but refusing to leave, keeping you connected, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he lets go again
masterlist ✵
tags @rafesbabygirlx @prettytheyswag @rgrimesr @whosyourmommy69 @abireichstein @silkylovey @macbaetwo @t0x1cfaerie @imliterallysocoolfr @sydneysslove @bebebambs @loverliner ✵ to get tagged
You'd been pacing around the house the whole day. Your skin felt hot, your body restless, your mind drifting back onto your boyfriend. You couldn't even fold laundry properly, your thighs kept pressing together.
Rafe caught on. He leaned on the doorway, his eyes dragging over you like he was already putting the pieces together. "You’ve been squirming since breakfast," he said lazily. “What’s going on with you?”
You bit your lip, staring down at the shirt you were folding. "Nothing."
He crossed the room with predatory steps. "Nothing?" His hand curled around your hip, chest brushing against your back. "Feels like something, baby."
You froze under his touch, heat rushing up your neck. "I'm..." you were hesitant. But there is no reason to lie to him, hardly able to bare it on your own. "I'm ovulating."
Rafe's grip tightened instantly, his breath warming you up. Literally. "Oh fuck." Despite the curse, his hands gently slid down, cupping you through your shorts, making you gasp. "Jesus, you're warm."
You swatted against his arm, but to no use, Rafe had pinned you against the counter, his hips firm against your ass. "You could've just told me."
"Rafe!" Your protest died as he pressed harder, pressuring your knees to buckle in response.
"You need it bad, don't you?" he teased, chuckling at your neediness. The words made your stomach clench, you felt pooling forming between your legs. "Don't..."
He spun you around, lifting you on the counter. "Don't want?" His fingers hooked in your shorts, dragging them down along with your panties. "Don't remind you of how wet you are?"
You shivered when he pushed your knees apart, his gaze locking on the slick that laid exposed. "Fuck, baby...look at you."
"Rafe." his fingers already sunk inside you, greedily moving on your clint. Your head was tipping back immediately, first moan, then second moan spilling out uncontrollably.
He groaned, seeing the stress leave your face and filling with bliss. "Please..."
Your hips rolled more into his fingers, making his eyes shot up, meeting yours. "Please what? You want my tongue? My cock? Tell me."
"Y-you," you stammered, a sweaty tear leaving your forehead. "I want you."
No more than a second later, he was unbuttoning his pants, lowering them enough to free himself and lining up at your entrance. The strech opened your mouth, nerving the nails to dig into his shoulders as he pushed into you.
"It's tight." he beat a mummured sigh out. The pace soon became merciless, he gave you deep and hard thrusts, had you looking for breath upwards. A bruising hold was bracing on your hips, like he wasn't close enough. "You feel that? Me filling you up, right where you need it?"
"Rafe!" you managed to only yelp out his name, melting into his movements.
"I know, baby." His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles until you were trembling. "Gonna make a mess on me, huh?"
Your release hit hard, a sharp cry leaving you as you clenched around him. He didn't slow, it only stirred him to fuck you harder through it, his own breath turning ragged.
"Next time you're ovulating, you tell me first thing in the morning."
summary : you were just the sleepiest girl of the town. (kinda sweet smutty prompt / etablished relationship. soft! boyfriend!rafe.)
warnings : except smut, nothing much. bad sleeping shedule.
author's note : /.
“ I’m fucking tired.” you yawned as you entered the room. since the beginning of the evening, you had only been looking forward to getting back to the soft comfort of your bed.
you couldn't help but become sleepy, which meant letting your boyfriend take care of you because you were unable to stay awake. you never needed to be careful because rafe cameron always had his eyes on you. and as long as you were next to him, as long as he could feel you even if you were dead asleep and drooling over his chest, he allowed you to take a nap on his lap for hours. it was one of your few privileges.
something he didn't allow was people waking you up. if it he had to shut down every fucking noisy kook in a room to let you sleep, he would do it. it was his own version of let me burn the world for you but in a better way, more like let me quit this entire world for you.
you loved these moments of calm and peace when you slept wearing only one of his t-shirts acting like a dress around your naked body, and white high socks.
rafe was spooning you while you were already falling asleep, the reassuring and warm feeling of his cold fingers slipping under your t-shirt, his large hands covering the flesh of your waist , letting his strong arms gently slowly pulling you towards him. the shushing sound of his lips hovering your neck as you were dragged by his thick fingers. your barely covered body lazily comes closer, as soft breaths break the silence of your mouth, quickly followed by the sleepy whines of your tall boyfriend that holds his grip tighter in your hips, making sure you can't go anywhere, even if you were in a deep sleep.
you had a complicated relationship with your sleep schedule because you were sleeping both too much and not enough at the same. you could be fully awake at 5am but literally dead asleep at 12pm. for the simple reason that you were not sleeping at the right time, nor at the right hour, nor in the right place. you were one of those sleepiest girls who would disappear for hours not because you were going out on the town with friends or even stepping foot outside, but because you would sleep for hours on end.
you told rafe that you were just closing your eyes to take a nap but you ended up waking up in the evening.
when you woke up, you were completely lost and disorganized but above all so tired. it was almost ridiculous. your boyfriend was now used to your eyes half-closed, your hair completely messed up and across your exhausted face, drool on the corner of your lip with that oh-so-stupid expression.
he lay down on the bed, while you looked at him with wide opened eyes. at this point, you weren't even sure you recognized your own boyfriend. “ rafe ? ”
“still asleep, babe? "
his voice was usually low, while he brushed away the trail of drool that was leaking from your mouth with his thumb. you nodded, and he smiled. “ such a baby. ”
you were a terrible temptation. he could have fucked you while you were sleeping. and maybe that was even what you wanted sometimes when you slept so scantily dressed, leaving your tiny thong in full view while you lay on your back, legs unconsciously spread.
“let me help you…” he whispered as he flipped you onto the bed, pushing your thighs apart to make himself a place. he had pulled down his boxers without removing them completely, before forcing your legs open with one hand. "fucking wet. i bet you dreamed about that dick inside you."
the smirk on his face was pretty charming and sick, and he pushed the fat tip of his cock against your soaked slit, before making morning slaps on your little glistening cunt. his length was so hard, hitting your sensitive bud. the plushy mushroom getting glossy from your weeping hole. he looked at you, holding his dick in a hand with your wetness dripping from the shaft, as you had a hard times focusing on his movements but he squeezed your cheeks on his hands, pulling your face closer to him. “ get that mouth open, want to be able to spit on it whenever i want. ”
it was also a pretty excuse for him to force you to keep your eyes open. when he first pushed in with a hard thrust that literally arched all your body, you screamed out of pleasure and pain. he didn't wait before starting working his dick faster in your swollen cunt. you always take him so good, and he can't help but pound you even deeper every time he hears your sleepily voice moaning softly, the whining getting louder and bigger as he stretches you open. you were too good, a forbidden pleasure for sure, your sloppy pussy fully soaked him.
little by little, you begin to be fully awake, eyes filled with shining tears. you were a mess that was crying and panting from the roughness of your boyfriend, crybaby whines begging for rafe’s attention. your mouth getting muffled by his, he shushed you through the kiss, heavy breath and drool falling between your lips. “ s-s-slow down ! ” you cried out.
he mocked you gently, answering with a wicked smile. “ what about faster ? thought that's what you wanted ? ”he was still fucking you, but now a hand reached your throat, as the thickness of his length stuffed the inside of your walls, hitting all the spots. “ r-rafe. ” you exploded.
you were shaking, gasping for air and throbbing, eyes still locked in rafe's gaze while you lost your mind, thinking of how deep he was inside you. your cunt still twitching around his cock, making you unable to catch your breath and literally choking against the hand pressed on your throat. you were already tired, the inner of your thighs dripping with arousal and legs breaking with each thrusts. and those massive orgasms didn't help. his face was now sweaty from the heat and the sex, hot breaths escaping his lips and absolutely no sign of exhaustion. he could fuck you to death. and you wish you could reach this level but you were already too drained by the fast back and forth. “ this is how i should wake up my sleepy girl every morning. don't you think ? ”
he finally managed to cum, spilling thicks of loads inside you. your head failing in the bed as he slowly pulled his dick out, before pushing it into your mouth. the sight of your tongue licking every single drop of juice left him even horny, your pretty lips weeped with cum and wetness, that he smeared with the tip of his cock, before letting you clean everything.
“ it was not a fuck, it was an attempted murder. ” you told him.
“ don't inspire me for round 2, you will regret it. ”
“ don't complain me about why i sleep this much when you fucking me like that. ”
“ i'm fucking tired…” you said, a little yawn leaving your mouth as rafe and you entering the room after a living pool party, were you literally rested on your boyfriend’s lap during all the event, falling asleep on his shoulder as he was still talking with his friends.
he was now used to since he dated you from a long moment. he was now able to take care of you every time you fell asleep. as always, there was no warning. you could be smiling, living the party, it doesn't mean you were not sleepy. He sometimes complained about how much you slept, but at the same time, how much you didn't get enough sleep.
“ no shit. you were literally drooling over me. ” he said sarcastically. “ lift your arms. ” he commanded, before helping you remove your dress.
he almost passed out when your breasts literally bounced out of your bra as your arms leaned down, his dick slightly growing and forming a bulge inside his pants. but damn, it was not the moments because he knows for sure that you will now fall asleep. AGAIN.
“ do you think topper is mad at me for sleeping at his birthday’s party ? ”
“ do i look like the type of boyfriend that i care about what another man is feeling about my girlfriend ? because, i'm not. ”
“ it was rude…. it's his birthday ! ”
“ babe, i could even fuck you right in front of him that he wouldn't even care or remarks. don't you see how he was just drooling like a dog because of my sister ? ”
“ maybe, i should call…”
rafe had raised an eyebrow, his jaw twitching slightly as you pulled on one of his t-shirts. “ since when do you have topper’s number ? ”
“I mean with your phone. Why would I have his number. Anyways, i'm sorry for this…it's pretty embarrassing. ”
“ What about looking me in the eyes if you at least want me to believe you about your apologies?”
“ Don't fight me right now, i'm tired.”
“ And actually, when you're not ? ” he mocked, and you finally looked at him.
“ When i'm sleeping, it's obvious. ”
“ You forget when i fuck you’. It doesn't seems like you're very tired. ”
after showering and brushing your teeths, you moved to your favorite place in the world — your bed. you loved the clean of the sheets. you covered yourself with the blanket, dropping only your head out.
when rafe appareaded, you couldn't help but stare at his perfect body. you followed his moves, lurking to the good and big shape of his biceps, the well-sculpted ridges of his abs, the visible v-line curved on his hips. “ don't look at me like that. ” he warned.
“ then i will look at someone else. ”
“ funny. ” he said, chuckling without smiling. “ that you think i will let you do such a thing. but keep daydreaming. ”
“ no need to be jealous. there is no kooks better than you. ”
“ does it mean there are pogues better than me ? ”
you sighed, shaking your head and crossing your arms.
“ i don't even hang out with pogues ! don't take it in the wrong way. what about watching a good movie before sleeping ? ”
“ be serious. i know you well, you're gonna fall asleep before the movie even starts. ”
“ no ! i'm fully awake. ”
“ which movies do you want to watch ? and there is no way i'm gonna watch that fucking film with a black cat and a ladybug. ”
“ then what about five nights at Freddy's ? ”
“ sounds better. ” he simply said, while typing on the dashboard.
your gaze leaned down on his ringed fingers, fast and thick. your slowly opened your lips, imagining how much they can stretch your mouth, leaving her with a pool of drool from how wet they're from your saliva. but also, how much they will manage to keep your mouth open without effort.
a sparkle shone in your eyes, and you wrapped your arm around rafe's one, making him look without really giving you full attention. “ what you want ? ”
“ nothing. did you find the movie ? ”
“ you like horror movies ? ”
“ no, i like josh. ”
“ bet he died at the end of the movie. ”
“ rafe ! ”
“ yea, keep crying. ”
he started the movie but you were very sleepy. again. you forced yourself to keep your eyes open but it was really hard. you blinked so many times to fight the urge of sleeping, but you're finally falling asleep.
rafe didn't stopped the movie because he was now too invested in it, but let your head rest against his naked chest, stroking your hair gently.
at the beginning of your relationship, it was so new for him to be this close to a person, to reach this type of intimacy but now he was craving for it, finding peace and comfort.
you were his sleepy girlfriend that was now sleeping over him, but will probably wake up in five hours when he will be dead asleep while, you will be looking for a nocturnal activity, trying to not wake him up.
sometimes, and a lot of times, you have sleepless nights that make you even more tired, and fall asleep early or late in the morning. you could feel though the sleep, rafe's arm loosening around your body as he manages to leave the bed to start the day while you just catching your night.
WARNINGS .ᐟ protected p in v, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, loss of virginity, reader and rafe being dorks, slow sex, these bitches do not shut up, reader is very insecure about her body and of course, has anxiety
NOTES .ᐟ this is representation for all my anxious and insecure girlies who giggle and blurt out random stuff when they're nervous (aka me)
You and Rafe were both on his bed making out, him laying underneath you as you straddled his waist—his idea, of course, citing that it would be more comfortable for both of you that way. "You better just have something in your pocket," you jokingly mumbled against his lips, feeling something distinctly hard and suspiciously close to his dick pressing against you.
You had a tendency to make a lot of dumb jokes and laugh when you were nervous, blurting out whatever came to mind before you could decide against it, which was ironic since overthinking was a second nature to you. You were shy and got nervous a lot, especially around Rafe. He was your first boyfriend and the hottest guy you'd ever laid your eyes on, neither of which helping your nerves.
Rafe's hands slipped under your shirt to touch your bare skin, holding you firmly on his lap. "Wouldn't you like to know," his smirk was teasing as he pulled back from the kiss to peer up at you.
"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the whole point of asking," you also pulled back, sitting up as you smiled down at him. You liked it when Rafe went along with your stupid jokes, bantering with you to put you at ease. He never made you feel weird or awkward for using humor to cope with your anxiety.
"Well, if you must know, I'm packing heat," Rafe quipped with a mischievous grin, his grip on your hips tightening.
You gasped exageratedly, feigning shock. "You have a gun?" You knew very well what he meant, but when did that ever stop you from saying something stupid?
He snorted, his blue eyes shining with amusement. "Yeah, I have a gun in my pants because that makes so much sense," he replied sarcastically, finding your nervous humor endearing.
"Okay, Mr. Sassypants," you rolled your eyes playfully, your palms resting on his chest as a smile pulled at your lips.
"Mr. Sassypants?" Rafe repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You know, that's not a very nice thing to call your loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend."
"Well, I can't help that my loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend is such a diva," you grinned, feeling his chest rise and fall, his heart beating steadily under your fingertips.
"Diva?" He gasped in mock offense, his hands sliding up your sides. "I'll show you a diva." In one swift motion, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him.
You laughed, looking up at him with a smile despite the anxiety gnawing at you. He had a way of putting your mind at ease with just one look, and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your skin were definitely helping. He stared back at you, his gaze softening. He loved your smile and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed. Truthfully, he loved everything about you, even your innate ability to make everything a tad bit awkward.
His eyes searched yours intently, searching for any signs that you wanted him to stop. Noticing his serious turn of demeanor and his intense gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up. "Oh, cmon, don't get all serious on me now," you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood.
"Well, I take my role as your boyfriend very seriously," he grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck. "And, it wouldn't be very boyfriendly of me to let you go on without knowing the wonders of sex."
"Oh, right, of course, it would be for my benefit," you giggled, your heart racing at the idea of being intimate with him. You weren't exactly against the idea, but you were still a virgin, and the idea of being with someone like that was undoubtedly nerve-racking.
You could feel Rafe smile against your skin, his hands sliding farther up your sides. "Uh huh, always thinking of what's best for my girl."
"Wow, who knew you were so selfless?" You giggled, biting your lip as he nipped as your skin. Your fingers slotted into his hair as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck, his hot breath fanning against your heated skin.
"I'm a saint, what can I say?" He mumbled, his tone teasing. He was being careful, trying to reassure you without actually saying anything because he knew you'd prefer to keep things as lighthearted as possible to make you forget about how serious the moment actually was. He could tell you were nervous, and he was determined to make you as comfortable as possible.
"Uh huh, a saint," you smiled as he slowly, tentatively pushed your shirt up your body. He was giving you time to tell him to stop, maybe even slap him if you wanted to, but you didn't. As much as you felt like you were going to die on the spot at the idea of him seeing you naked, you trusted him, and you wanted this.
"I am but a humble servant of my sexy girlfriend," he pulled back from your neck to search your eyes again, pausing for a moment before your shirt revealed your bra. You gave him a small nod, and he smiled, tugging the shirt over your head as you leaned up a little and lifted your arms to help him. He threw the shirt aside, eyes roaming your skin, as if memorizing every detail. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed out.
"Shut up," you said bashfully, your heart beating faster under his intense gaze. There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren't pretty enough for him, that he would hate how you looked, and that was why you preferred to fill the silence with easy jokes and stupid quips. It made it easier to silence that nagging part of you that thought you weren't good enough for him.
"No, I mean it," he insisted, his fingers slowly tracing the lace edging of your bra. "You're like, way too pretty to be real. I mean, look at you." There was a sincerity to his words that he couldn't fake, an edge of awe and pure unbridled devotion that made your head spin.
The way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way he touched you like he worshipped every inch of you—it was all overwhelming in the best possible way. It had you scrambling in your mind to say something, anything, even if that something was a dumb dick joke.
"I bet you're thinking about saying something stupid, aren't you?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned down to pepper kisses over your collarbones and down the swell of your cleavage.
"I never say anything stupid," you breathed out, as he kissed the skin that wasn't hidden behind your bra. It made your heart flutter that he knew you so well, but it also made you realize how awfully predictable you were.
"Uh huh and I'm the Queen of England," he retorted sarcastically, reaching up to slide one of your bra straps down your shoulder, kissing the bare sliver of skin that was revealed.
"Oh my God, you are?" You gasped, his remark loading you with the perfect ammunition to say something stupid. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."
"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to kiss and touch you, slipping your other strap off. He slowly unhooked your bra, his eyes meeting yours as he paused, asking for silent permission. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously before nodding.
He pulled your bra off almost instantly, his gaze sweeping over your bare chest. You felt so vulnerable beneath his gaze, resisting the urge to cover yourself. "Okay, your turn, pretty boy," you swiftly said, trying to ease your nerves and figuring you might be a little more comfortable if you weren't the only half-naked one.
"Yes, ma'am," He smirked, leaning back to pull his own shirt off, revealing his muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare, eyes roaming over his abs and the way his muscles flexed as he tossed his shirt aside. He settled back over you, his hands sliding up your sides. "Better?"
"You are annoyingly hot," you huffed, finding it completely unfair that someone as perfect as him could even exist, let alone be on top of you right now.
"Aw, you're just saying that because you want in my pants," he teased, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "But I can't blame you, I am pretty irresistible." He leaned down, swallowing the small gasp you let out at his touch as he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.
"That's slander," you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer.
"Mmm, then sue me," he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making his way to your chest.
Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. He was ridiculously skilled with his mouth, knowing exactly how and where to kiss you to drive you crazy. "Yknow what, maybe I will," you retorted breathlessly, your chest rising and falling a little faster.
"I think we can come to some sort of settlement out of court," He paused, his hot breath washing over your skin before he slowly, deliberately wrapped his lips around one of your peaks, swirling his tongue around it. "What do you think?"
Your lips parted at the feeling, intaking a sharp breath of air. "Uh, yeah, yknow that could work maybe," you grinned, your fingers gently tugging at his hair as he ravished your tits with attention.
"Mmm, I thought it might," he hummed with a cocky grin, switching to give equal attention to your other breast, your back arching ever so slightly, urging him closer. He smirked against your skin, making his way lower and leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. His hands slid down your sides to your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.
"Hey, wait, I don't want to be naked first," you protested, only half joking. You would rather die than be fully naked in front of him while he sits there with his clothes on.
"Oh, trust me, I have no intention of leaving my pants on any longer than necessary," He assured you with a mischievous grin, slowly unbuttoning your jeans, his knuckles brushing against your skin.
"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," you grinned, moving on to the making fun of your boyfriend portion of the program in an attempt to soothe the pit of nausea in your stomach. You were kind of scared, not that you wanted to be lame and admit that.
"Hey, I resent that," He protested, but his tone conveyed the opposite message as he tugged your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth, expert motion, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm just enthusiastic, that's all."
"Enthusiastically a whore," you snorted, letting your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. You'd really rather not see yourself naked right now, not with the amount of anxiety already coursing through your veins. You did not need a reminder of what Rafe was seeing.
"Whore?" He teased, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. "I think you mean an amazing boyfriend who loves you and wants to make you feel good."
You hummed thoughtfully. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure I mean whore," you grinned, reluctantly looking down at him despite yourself.
"Well, this whore is about to rock your world," He smirked, slowly trailing kisses up your inner thigh, gripping your hips. "Just relax and let me do all the work." His voice was low and seductive, his intentions clear.
"You're such an idiot," you laughed at his cheesy choice of words, a little nervous that the witty banter would have to be put on hold. He can't exactly respond to your sarcastic remarks with his mouth occupied.
He hummed, his breath hot against your core. Your breathing picked up, and you were unsure whether it was anticipation or if you were on the verge of a panic attack.
He slowly dragged his tongue along your slit, groaning at your taste on his tongue and the subsequent gasp that fell from your lips, making his painfully hard cock twitch in his jeans. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart and opening you up to him. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined this exact scenario about a half a dozen times as he got himself off, and now that it was actually happening, he was going to relish every moment.
He began to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat, familiarizing himself with every inch of you. His nose nudged at your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that pulled a low whine from your throat. Your fingers threaded into his hair, moaning at the unfamiliar pleasure.
His fingers replaced his tongue, his mouth moving up to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth, determined to send you over the edge. He pushed his fingers deep inside and curled them, finding that spot that made your back arch and your hips buck against his mouth.
"Rafe," his name left your lips a breathy whimper as your head fell back against his pillows. Rafe was no stranger to having women under him, writhing and moaning his name, but something about it being you made him crazy. It took all his self-control not to blow his load in his pants right there and then.
He redoubled his efforts, eager to make you cum, rubbing that sweet spot inside you with ruthless precision and sucking on your clit, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub. Another moan fell from your lips, your grip on his hair bordering on painful as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your legs practically shaking at the intense pleasure.
He groaned as he felt you spasm around his fingers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled away, grinning as he took in your dazed expression. He carefully slipped his fingers from your quivering hole, bringing them to his mouth. He couldn't help the moan that rumbled low in his throat as he tasted you on his tongue. God, you were perfect.
His eyes flicked up to yours as his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. "Good, huh?" He asked, his tone smug. He knew it had been good, but he wanted to hear you say it.
"I'm gonna slap that stupid look off your face," you playfully rolled your eyes, your skin practically burning up with embarrassment.
"I think that would take our case from a civil lawsuit to a criminal assault charge," he grinned, calling back to your previous joke about taking him to court. He positioned himself over you again to press his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
"It's my first offense and a misdemeanor," you mumbled into the kiss, cupping his face. "Worst I'll get is a fine, so... totally worth it."
"Okay, smartass," he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, gazing down at you lovingly.
"Just saying," you smiled softly up at him, his hair falling into his face and his blue eyes sparkling. He really loved you, and it was evident just from the way he looked at you. He'd never felt anything like it before. He loved you so much it terrified him.
But, of course, you had to ruin the moment of peace because shutting up was not something you were wired to do, especially not in the face of such charged silence. "Your little friend is poking me again," you blurted out the words before you could stop yourself. Little friend? You really couldn't have come up with anything else?
Rafe couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he rocked his hips against you, making you gasp softly. "He's just happy to see you." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at you, his fingers absently tracing along your side.
"Okay, well, can you tell him I don't really know him like that, so maybe he should calm down a little bit," you couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but you loved it, and you loved him. He understood you in a way you never thought you'd be understood by anyone.
"He says he's not planning on staying a stranger for much longer," he smirked, his hips rolling against yours.
"This is actually so stupid," you giggled, your hand covering your mouth as you laughed beneath him.
"Oh, now it's stupid?" He rolled his eyes, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're the one who started it."
"Shut up," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Okay, okay, you can... start now, I guess," you said awkwardly. There was only so long that you could stall with stupid dick jokes. Besides, you felt a little bad that he had been so patient and undoubtedly, extremely hard.
"About time," he murmured with faux annoyance, his voice low as he fiddled with his belt buckle and pulled it through the loops, tossing it aside before popping the button on his jeans and slowly unzipping them.
You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your nerves as the sound of him pulling his jeans off seemed to echo through the room. You wanted this. You knew you did, but you couldn't help the pit of fear in your stomach.
He paused, feeling your body tense beneath him as you took a deep breath, a sign he knew all too well. "Hey, look at me," he coaxed softly, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can wait if you're not ready. Just tell me to stop, and I will, no questions asked, no hard feelings. We can just forget all about it," he reassured you.
Your heart fluttered as you heard your boyfriend's words, meeting his gaze and seeing the sincerity behind his eyes. "No, I- I want to. I'm just... scared, yknow," you bit your lip nervously, mentally kicking yourself. You always seemed to be scared. There probably wasn't a single thing in the world that you weren't scared of.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, pressing gentle kisses to your face, your neck, your collarbone—anywhere he could reach. "There's nothing wrong with being scared. It's your first time. If you weren't scared, that would be a little concerning."
You laughed softly at his words. "You just make sure you wrap it up. I don't know where you've been," you joked. "Safe sex is great sex as the Lil Wayne once wisely said."
He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Lil Wayne, huh? I didn't know he moonlighted as a sex ed teacher." He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a foil packet and waving it in front of your face. "But don't worry, I'm always prepared."
"Jesus, that's a lot of condoms," you said, peering into his drawer and seeing way more condoms than you realistically thought one person would need. "You are a whore of massive proportions. Like, literally a menace to the female population."
"Oh, hush," he grinned, tearing open the packet and rolling the latex down over his length. "I bought them in bulk. You know, for... emergencies," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leaning back down to press kisses to your skin once more.
"Eugh," you giggled, your face scrunching up in disgust. "I genuinely do not want to know what a sex emergency is."
"Hey, a guy's gotta be prepared, okay?" He murmured against your neck, his breath warm. "Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to let me kiss you and calm you the hell down?"
"Yo, I am literally so calm," you rolled your eyes, lying through your teeth in the name of comedy and also not sounding like the total little loser virgin you were. "So calm and so chill. Literally have never been calmer or chiller in my life."
"Uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced as he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, his fingers slowly trailing down your side, his touch gentle. "Because nothing says 'calm and chill' like sex jokes and rambling like you're on speed."
"Well, I can't help that I'm the funniest person alive," you argued, the realization dawning on you that you were naked, and he was naked, which meant there was only so many more sex jokes you could make before the sex actually commenced.
"You're not even in the top five funniest people I know," he teased, his fingers reaching your hip as he slowly pulled you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours.
"Oh, you got jokes, huh?" You grinned, nervously giggling when you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. "You better take that back if you wanna get laid tonight."
"I think I'll stick with my original statement," he said, his voice low and husky as he pressed forward, the head of his dick pushing into you slowly as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip. "You're just not funny enough to make the cut, sweetheart."
You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing at the painful sensation. You grabbed his bicep for support, digging your nails into his arm. "Liar," you joked weakly, your chest heaving as you breathed through the intrusion.
"Shh, just breathe," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and soothing as he paused, letting you adjust to the foreign feeling. "You're doing so good, baby. You're taking it like a champ."
"Okay, don't call me champ while you're inside me," you grimaced, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted as you slowly adjusted to having him inside you.
"You okay, baby?" He asked softly, pushing the slightest bit further into you as he examined your reaction closely.
"Oh, yeah, just peachy," you said sarcastically. The pain was gradually starting to fade, making the whole thing more enjoyable by the second. Though, the pressure between your thighs was intense.
"Mhm, you're a real ray of sunshine," he chuckled softly, pushing the rest of the way into you, his body shuddering as he bottomed out. He was as deep as he could go, his hips flush against yours.
You gasped as he pressed all the way into you, your grip on his bicep tightening. "You're gonna look like you got mauled by a lion after this," you panted out, apologetic for the involuntary response.
"I'd wear that badge of honor proudly," he said, his voice thick with amusement as he slowly began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a gentle, soothing rhythm. "Now, shut up and let me make love to you."
"Don't say 'make love' either. That's so gross," you giggled softly, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he set a slow, pleasurable pace.
"Then what would you prefer I call it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued his steady movements, the friction building between your bodies. "'Coitus'? 'Intercourse'? 'Fucking'?" He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.
You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows and brows pinching in pleasure. Okay, you were definitely starting to see what all the fuss was about. "Let's just not refer to what's happening right now as anything at all."
"Mhm, I can work with that," he hummed, his pace picking up slightly as he felt you start to relax more, your body welcoming his thrusts. "Just focus on how good it feels, baby. Let me take care of you."
He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply as he continued to fuck you with a pace that demonstrated his love and devotion to you. He never thought he would be one for slow, romantic sex, but he didn't think he was into a lot of things before he met you. You had a way of making him discover things about himself he was completely clueless to.
As he kissed you, he slowly shifted his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that particularly sensitive spot inside you. He felt you tense up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips into the kiss, and he smiled against your mouth. "You like that, huh?"
"You're such an ass," you grinned, your fingers curling into his hair, back arching into him as his tip continued to hit that spongy spot inside you, the pressure low in your abdomen building.
"Maybe so, but you love it," he smirked against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm. "And you're gonna come for me again, baby. Aren't you?"
Your mouth fell open in pleasure, your breath hot against his lips. "uh huh," you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut. He was a cocky motherfucker, but he was hot and he put up with your shit, so it was only fair you put up with his in return.
"That's my girl," he purred, one hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit as he continued his relentless pace. "Come on, baby. Let me feel you. I want to watch you fall apart for me."
You gasped sharply at the added stimulation, his name leaving your lips in a whine as you tensed around him, sent over the edge for the second time.
He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, the sensation of you practically choking his dick sending him into his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into the condom with a low moan of your name.
Your walls pulsed around him as you slowly came down from your high, relaxing into the mattress. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your whole body on fire and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
He collapsed on top of you with a satisfied hum, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone as he softened inside you. "I love you, you know that?"
"Good 'cause otherwise this would be pretty awkward," you laughed breathlessly, gently raking your nails over his scalp soothingly. "But, seriously, I love you too," you added quietly after a beat of silence.
