rafe would love the idea of dying between your legs.
rafe eating your pussy for hours. he gets so pussydrunk so quick — the entire bottom of his face is drenched with sweat and slick. his cheeks are red, pupils blown wide.
his eyes roll into the back of his skull like he gets off on it just as much as you do.
you firmly grasping his head, the buzzcut he’d recently gotten not giving you much to hold onto anymore, grinding into his face. you’ve come multiple times and been edged for hours — you’re pretty sure you’re floating on clouds right now.
rafe gripping the tops of your thighs, arms wrapped around them like they're bracketing him into your cunt. rafe looking up at you through his droopy eyelids, loving the way your face is screwed up in pleasure.
it makes his eyes roll back into his skull because he truly loves eating you out for hours. it's one of his favorite pastimes; loves the way you fall apart under his tongue.
you continually arching your back upwards, making the most pornographic back arch ever been seen. your thighs keep clenching and unclenching around rafe’s head, keeping him locked in place between your legs. one hand gripping the pillow above you, the other bracing rafe’s head.
you grinding against rafe's face and releasing high pitched whines because it feels too fucking good; feels ethereal.
your clit rubbing up to the tip of rafe’s nose, all the way down to his bottom lip over and over again. your slick getting fucking everywhere.
rafe pressing both palms down on your pubic bone to keep you steady, teasing you, not letting you move. you whine high in your throat in frustration, wanting to chase the friction of rafe’s mouth and tongue.
you trying to squirm away and push rafe’s face away after a while because you’re so overstimulated. rafe ignoring you and just eating, slurping, licking your cunt slower and harder. your body physically convulsing because it's just too much, but loving being addicted to the feeling.
rafe switching from kitten kissing your cunt all over, to kitten licking, to giving long fat licks from bottom to top. kitten kissing your inner thighs, rubbing his thumbs in small caresses on your inner thighs. giving pretty hickies all over them, loving the contrast of deep purples and blues and pinks and reds to your skin.
you staring at rafe because he looks so beautiful like this and always has been — between your thighs, face and mouthful of pussy, practically pleading to eat you for hours.
loving the intense eye contact when rafe gets to work, you practically melting from every sensation.
you releasing the tiniest 'uh, uh, uh"s, each word getting higher and higher in pitch because of how good rafe’s tongue is — fucking in and out of your sloppy hole. carefully caressing your clit, pursing his lips ever so slightly and sucking. the added suction makes you shiver.
rafe humming and moaning into your cunt because of how wet and messy he's getting. loving how tight you are whenever he fucks his tongue in and out of you.
he pulls back from time to time to look at the mess of you — smooth skin, bright pink and red, strings of spit and slick going every which way, shiny wetness everywhere.
your relentless clenching causes even more slick to slide slowly down your cunt, adding to the pool of fluids below you.
the only sounds in the room are the wet 'shlick' noises coming from your pussy and rafe’s mouth, your whines and moans and panting, rafe’s hums and groans that are muffled by your cunt, his heavy breathing through his nose.
rafe slowly trails his hands up from their places on your thighs to your breasts, leaving feather light touches and tracing them before focusing his attention on your nipples.
you end up riding rafe’s face. thighs tightly bracketing his head, not allowing him to move an inch. both of your hands gripping both sides of his head for the life of you, white-knuckling.
your head tilted all the way back, your hair cascading down your back and your face is faced towards the ceiling of the bedroom.
your hips and cunt grind against rafe’s lower face — cunt still grinding and thrusting against his chin, mouth, and tip of his nose.
you make tiny circles, cunt dragging deliciously against both of rafe’s cheeks, his mouth wanting to follow your cunt when it leaves his mouth.
rafe leaving light bruises on your hips and inner thighs, gripping you to keep you where he wants you and how he wants to move you. his arms wrapping over the tops of your thighs, able to grip the inner thighs and spread you open like he wants to.
you just full on fucking his mouth with your cunt. steady thrusts and grinds feel so heavenly against your wet and sloppy cunt — pink and red and warm and slippery from the relentless amount of friction and pleasure it's endured for the past few hours.
your mouth slack jawed, eyebrows furrowed upwards. rafe is eating you so good — it's like rafe was truly made to eat pussy, the way he gets off on it; the way he eats it for his own damn pleasure.
he usually humps the bed while slurping your cunt — it gets him so hard. hearing your whines, whimpers, moans, groans. wet, obscene, lewd sounds from his mouth and your cunt. needs to pound his dick into the mattress and release the pressure because it's just too much.
rafe making you come over and over and over. after you come, he doesn't stop — he keeps licking and kissing and sucking and fucking his tongue and fingers into you. you’re pratically sobbing from the amount of overstimulation you’ve endured for the past few hours.
no matter where you two are, rafe will eat your pussy — two in the morning in a club or bar bathroom, backseat of the car, on the deck of his family’s boat, on his knees outside of the house in the shadows by the pool, on his knees in an alley way, on every goddamn surface of the house.
little blurb for right now :) ( god i need buzzed cut rafe so bad jesus christ )
fuck your mind was hazy from the way Rafe was pounding into you, you had soaked the bed sheets with your drool as you barely could keep your eye lids open. Your legs felt so weak, and your clit was on fire. You barely could make coherent words everything you tried to say was slurred. Earlier you had worn a short skirt, one that made Rafe go CRAZY. Every time you bent down to pick up something or leaned a certain way, he could see the flesh of your ass and your cute panties. It made him grow more impatient when you were talking to Topper, he knew not to touch you because you were his woman and Rafe made sure everyone knew that. Rafe's hand was in a fist as he was glaring at Topper, he saw you laughing with him as you hit your hand on his shoulder and drank with him. Rafe couldn't take it anymore but deep down you knew you were doing it on purpose. You liked it when he was jealous, but you also knew you would never go out with Topper. Rafe got up from the seat he had been sitting in and walked over to you. He stood behind you as he whispered in your ear "you fuckin slut, just wait till we get home baby". His hand found your waist as he gripped it slightly, you grinned to yourself. "Were leaving" he said to Topper; he moved you in front of him as he turned around. Topper was trying to protest but you just walked out with Rafe anticipating what was gonna happen in an hour. Now here you are getting your pussy pulverized by the man you love. "You fuckin love getting me worked up, don't you?" Rafe laughed. All you could do was nod you head in the sheets as you were face first in the pillow. Rafe's hand came down on your ass as you yelped in pain and pleasure. He was thrusting into you like his life depended on it, you felt his hips come into contact with your ass. His hand came from under you, and rubbed your clit, your body was on fire, and you loved every second of it. "FUCK" you said. You could hear Rafe grunt and moan. Tears formed in your eyes. "Fuck baby, your pussy is so good" Rafe grabbed your hair as your back arched into his chest. "You're so perfect sweetheart, I love seeing you so pathetic for my cock" Rafe had pounded into you once more as he announced he was close, he pulled out and flipped you on your back and towered over your stomach. You almost drooled again from seeing him all sweaty and fucked out, Rafe thus cursed under his breath as he spilled his cum all over your stomach. You looked up at him as you swiped some of his cum of your stomach and tasted it, keeping eye contact with him. He smirked at you as you smiled. "I love you baby" Rafe leaned down to give you a kiss on your cheek. He picked you up as he said, "How about we take a shower yeah?" you nodded your head as you looked at him with tear-soaked eyelashes. "I love you too Rafe".
୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ rafe always cures your need for more trinkets
୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ceo!rafe x trinket collector!reader, fluff, he has so much money like im scared, you have a sonny angel trinket obsession collection, he acts like he couldn’t give less of a shit but you know he’d rather die than not give you what you want
“oh my god.” you said suddenly, sitting up a sharply in your bed and holding your phone.
you and rafe are laying in bed, enjoying a peaceful morning before the busy day ahead of you both. some kind of important business deal rafe has that’s been booked for six months. and you had a big day of shopping planned. just a few makeup and jewelry necessities you’ve had your eyes on for a few weeks.
rafe turns his head and looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed and lifts a hand to rest on your back.
“hmm?” he hums in question. he sits up and rests his back against the headboard, shirtless in all his glory and his simple gold chain rests against his collarbones.
you ignore him and reach into your bedside table to grab your laptop. your fingers move relentlessly on the keyboard and before rafe can ask what you’re doing, he sees the infamous website homepage that you have grown so accustomed to.
Sonny Angel Store USA.
he smirks to himself and rolls his eyes. “jesus, baby.”
“don’t. even.” you say firmly. your attention is locked on your laptop screen, clicking away.
the sonny angel instagram page announced a restock of your favorite collection that had been sold out for months. you had to get your hands on as many as you could buy because there was no way you weren’t getting any.
“christ, my heart is literally pounding,” you said lowly, adrenaline running through your veins. “rafe, i swear to fuck. if i don’t get any of these, i’m going to kill myself with one of your guns.”
he laughs behind you, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back until he moves and gets up from the bed.
you ignore him, not caring a single ounce of where he’s going. you spam-click the tiny little plus sign next to the quantity amount until the number stops changing, then clicking the ‘add to cart’ button.
your screen takes you to the checkout page, and you have never moved so fast in your life. you half sprint to the dresser and dig in your purse to look for your credit card, but you can’t find it.
“fuck.” you spit out. your arms are shaking, and you dump the entirety of your purse out onto the dresser. lipglosses, spare sonny’s, and gum wrappers tumble and fall from your purse and onto the floor.
you don’t realize the body standing next to you until a few seconds later. you look and there’s rafe, handing you his black amex between his middle and pointer fingers.
he just looks at you and shrugs, almost like a ‘what’s the problem?’ kind of look. you don’t give him a second look before taking the heavy card and rushing back to your side of the bed.
you furiously type in the card information, too much time already wasted, and click the ‘confirm purchase’ button. the screen loads and loads and after ten seconds, you see the ‘thank you for your purchase!’ screen.
you let out a yelp of happiness before hopping off the bed and wrap your arms around rafe’s neck.
“thank you, baby.” you say softly with a smile. you peck his lips and squeal, hugging him again.
“you act like i don’t buy them for you every time,” he says matter of factly. “still don’t know why you have a credit card when you have quite literally never had to use it with me.”
he wraps his arms around your back, his hands at the base of your spine. “either way, i’ll always take care of you, doll. weird toy obsessions and all.” he plops a chaste kiss on your lips with a playful smack to your ass.
you roll your eyes and move away from him. to the shelving unit right next to your vanity and it’s too full. you turn around slowly and look at your boyfriend who’s leaning against the doorframe and just waiting for you to ask.
“…. i think you’re gonna need to put another shelf up.”
bonus!
you’re sitting in the bathroom painting your toenails, soft music playing from your phone when rafe calls your name.
“hold on. gimme a minute.” you say. you cap the nail polish and wave your hands over your left foot, trying to get the paint to dry even though that’s physically impossible.
you check your phone and notice that it’s almost an hour later than when rafe usually gets home. you don’t think much of it; he’s been swamped at work, trying to get this one deal set and stone.
you waddle out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. you make your way to the bed, and sit down on the edge of it with your feet on the floor.
rafe is standing by the door with both of his hands behind his back, dressed in a sleek gray suit, red tie, gold rings on his hands, and a watch that looks about fifty years old but could easily pay your guys’s mortgage for half of a year.
“what’s going on?” you say. you squint your eyes a bit at him, wondering what he could be planning.
he shrugs and pulls a box out from behind his back. and it’s just a plain brown box. nothing out of the ordinary. it’s not small by any means, but it’s not a giant packing box either.
“got these for you. had ‘em shipped to the p.o. box that i use for work. didn’t want you to go peeking if it got delivered here.” he says simply.
he walks over to you and hands you the box, then moves to the bathroom to get undressed. acting like you got a random envelope in the mail talking about how you could save an extra fifty dollars this month if you signed up today for a new wifi plan.
you hear him taking off his clothes to get in the shower and open the brown box.
“rafe! what the fuck!” you yell excitedly. you sift through the box and it is full to the brim with fucking sonny angels. at least three hundred dollars worth, if not more. all different series, limited edition ones that haven’t been sold in a couple years. you do a quick mental count and you lost track after ten. it felt like the box was endless.
you drop the box on the floor, careful of your still drying toes, and half the box spills over the floor at your hurry. you walk into the bathroom and see the silhouette of rafe’s naked body through the fogged door of the shower.
he knows of your love for little collectibles, whether it’s sonny angels, miffy figures, smiskis, mofusand kitties, or even labubus. he always acts uninterested when you babble about rumors of a new series or how a new figurine is being made. but he loves how happy they make you and seeing you happy and joyful is the biggest thing that makes his heart grow fonder.
“rafe! what — when did you do that, what the hell?” you open the door a bit so he can hear you better. he pulls his face out from under the spray of water and wipes his face with his hand. then he steps towards you a bit.
“dunno. maybe like — couple weeks or so ago? even paid for fuckin’ express shipping, but they ended up coming today. so — sorry they’re late.” he gives a soft smile and reaches for his body wash.
you tear up because it means so much to you. like okay what the hell, they’re teeny tiny little naked baby figurines with different head coverings, what the fuck is so great about them?
it means a lot that he cares about your hobbies and interests and on his own accord, searched online to buy you more than you could ever ask for. just the initiation and attention to detail about something that truly means so little to others, but the world to you.
you sniffle and laugh. “hope you know that you’re opening each one with me.”
he groans and smiles, tipping his face back under the water. he gurgles a mouthful at the motion.
“yeah, yeah. whatever,” he responds. you close the door and make your way back to the bedroom when you hear,
“i’m telling you right now. if we open one and we get the fuckin’ mouse, i’m taking it for myself. don’t fuck with me.” he says firmly.
your mouth drops open. well, well, well.
a/n: guys i gotta be honest, my trinket collection is getting out of control like im running out of room to put my sonny’s anywhere and im SCARED (i will never stop buying them my heart cannot stop the grind)
something about rafe not being able to keep his eyes off of you.
he’s always so enamored with you, no matter if you’re cleaning up the house or cooking a meal, hell even if you’re sick as a dog and not able to move from the sheets of your bed, tissues scattered all around you.
his eyes are so full of love whenever you’re around.
he can’t keep his hands off of you either; always needing to have you at an arms length or closer.
he loves coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“hmmm,” he sighs happily. “what’re you doing?” not that he truly cares enough about what you’re doing in this exact moment, only wanting to be in your space and your space only.
you give a closed-lipped smile at the affection. “just finishing up the dishes.”
he gives a small grunt as a response, giving you a chaste one-two-three kisses to the top of your head, giving your hips a loving squeeze with his hands before stepping away.
he moves not more than three feet away from you and just watches.
watches, completely enamored in you doing a mundane task. but it doesn’t matter to him. he’s utterly obsessed and so in love with every little move you make.
just complete love-hearts in his eyes when watching you.
he feels privileged to have you by his side; to call you his, like he’s won the damn lottery.
every time you’re in a crowd — whether it’s at a party, having dinner at sunset at the country club, or with your friend group — he always needs to make it known that you’re his and having his hands all over you.
he’ll always have that smirk on his face, the small smile that just lets everyone know he’s him. he lucked out and no one can top him in any way, shape, or form.
like you’d come back from the country club’s bar, sunset radiating beautiful shades of orange, pink, and blue on your skin. he opens his arms to welcome you back to your group with a, “hey, baby.”
he takes a drink out of your hand — his — takes your free hand and twirls you around, your floor length silk dress, whirling around your ankles. he’d wrap that arm around your waist, making you turn around with your back to his chest. the other arm free to hold his drink, eyes scanning the rest of the area making sure everyone knows you’re his.
some possessive part of him wants everyone looking at the both of you. wants everyone to see his arm around you, daring anyone to waltz up to the both of you and compliment you or him, ready to rub into their idiotic minds that you’re his and he is yours.
he tenses the arm around you at the thoughts running through his mind. it somewhat gets him off that no one else can have you, that he’s parading you around town, that he is showing you off in front of everyone’s faces and they can’t do a goddamn thing about it.
he smirks into his drink, not paying any attention to whatever conversation you’re having with whatever stuck up assholes are trying to pique your interest. he swallows his drink, then moves his head to behind your ear, and gives a few chaste one-two-three kisses letting you know that he’s all but thinking about you.
you’re so beautiful, it hurts. he’s so fucking proud to have you on his arm, no matter what. your laugh interrupts his thoughts and he, once again, licks his lips, presses them together and just smiles.
