𓂃✍︎ bf!rafe dealing with you squirming during sex . . .
summary: perhaps it was the fact that he was thrusting in a terribly fast and harsh pace, but you just couldnt seem to be able to stay still.
content: smut, dom!rafe with a lot of manhandling + talking you thru it, piv, positions change; missionary to doggystyle.
Both of your weeks ended like every sweet couples' usually do; using the last bits of your staminas just to get a satisfying release that'll clear out your heads from the long, tiring day. The word release, in this case, meaning sex till you're damn near breaking the bedframe.
That night, Rafe was being particularly rough, choosing the missionary position like he always does whenever he felt the desire to be the one 'in charge', placing wet, open-mouthed kisses around your neck while the sound of your moans fills his ear, his favorite melody.
Perhaps it was the fact that he had not only a tiring day but also a somewhat bad one, needing and chasing this satisfaction more than ever with his hips thrusting at a terrifyingly fast pace, practically slamming again and again into you while his fingers were grabbing onto your hips so tight it might even bruise your skin. His hands were a guide to your hips so you too were moving against him.
"Oh fuck... just like that..." he grunted, panting into your ear as he fasten his pace even more, your hips shoved together.
The problem isn't that you didn't like it, oh you fucking enjoyed it. Instead, the problem is the fact that you were a squirmy person, barely able to keep your limbs still as he drives his cock in and out of your pussy rapidly.
Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his burning skin, only to let go and grip onto the sheets instead, not even knowing what to hold onto anymore. Your back arched, hips stuttering frantically in his hold, making his control on your hips movement a tad difficult, meanwhile your toes curled with your legs restless and your head thrown back over the pillow.
A moan escapes your throat, loud and desperate, "Fu- mm.. fuck!" You gasped, "S-so fast! I... I can't- please!" You pleaded with him, your shaky hands reaching for his wrists to try and pull them off your hips.
"You can, baby... I know you can..." Rafe assured you with ragged breath, his voice incredibly calm for someone who's raging cock is pounding into you, "Shit... stop moving, can you?"
He let out a grunt, patience growing thinner with each movement you made, which then led him to grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them up above your head on the pillow.
With your hands stuck on that position, you could only arch your back and move your legs as the tip of his cock kept on hitting all the right spots to make your toes curl even more. It might just be your favorite feeling in the whole wide world.
"Stop moving around, baby..." Rafe groaned, feeling your tits pressed against his chest due to how much you were arching your back, his ears filled with your desperate, mumbled, and frantic pleas. "I know, I know... You can take it, okay? Just... ah fuck..." He whispered, ragged breath and moans of his own filled your ears.
Yet now with only one hand on your hip, it was harder to guide them to move against his when your just kept on squirming and wriggling, so much that his dick managed to slip out once. Which to Rafe, once was plenty.
Rafe let out another groan, "Goddamnit!" He took his hands off your wrists– only to flip you over onto your stomach, hands guiding your hips to be lift up to provide him with your ass in the air, "Fuck... hold on, baby..." He cooed, as if as a silent apology.
As he thrusted back into you hard and deep, his hands held your wrists behind your back tightly, the slight grin on his face showed how he was assured that now you weren't gonna move as much. Not even gonna be loud, not with your flushed face pressed against the pillow, surely.
"Ra... Rafe..." You managed to moan against the pillow, eyes rolled to the back of your head and drool pooling onto the white pillow case. The position you were in had the least possibility to squirm around, only able to wiggle your fingers.
Rafe just kept on pounding into you, longing to feel those walls squeeze around him and hear the loudest and dirtiest moan leave your swollen lips, to know you were satisfied with the night just as much as he was. And while he's at it, he was still busy holding your wrists together, keeping your roaming hands still from clawing onto him.
the party is loud, warm, a little messy — bodies everywhere, music bleeding into laughter, beer cans clinking against the concrete. rafe tried to act normal for maybe the first hour. tried being social. tried being charming.
then the alcohol hit him just right.
now he’s sitting on the floor between your legs, back pressed to your thighs like that’s the most natural place in the world. your knees frame his shoulders, your hands resting lazily on his chest while he leans into you, loose and heavy and completely unbothered by anyone watching.
he’s drunk-drunk. the clingy kind. the kind that forgets the room exists.
“baby,” he murmurs, head tilting back so he can look up at you, eyes glossy, smile soft and stupid and in love. “stay. don’t move.”
you laugh, fingers sliding into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. he hums at the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed like a cat that just got exactly what it wanted.
someone walks by, says his name. rafe doesn’t even flinch.
you feel his hand find your knee, fingers curling possessively like he needs the reminder that you’re real, that you’re there, that you’re his. his thumb rubs absent little circles through the fabric of your pants, slow and comforting, not even trying to be subtle.
“you’re so warm,” he mumbles, pressing his cheek to your thigh. “this is better than standing.”
“you’re drunk,” you tease.
“mm,” he agrees easily. “drunk and married.”
that makes your chest ache — the way he says it like a fact, like a badge of honor. like nothing else in the room matters more than being yours.
your fingers trace the line of his jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. he catches it with his lips, kissing it softly before resting your hand against his cheek, grounding himself there.
the party keeps going. music gets louder. people get messier.
rafe doesn’t move.
he stays right there between your legs, head tipped back against you, breathing slow, trusting, clingy in the way only he gets when he’s had too much to drink and too much love for one body to hold.
warnings: unprotected sex, slight sub!rafe (?), praise, hair pulling, titty sucking, spanking, groping, light biting, face sitting, oral sex (f. receiving), tongue fucking, overstimulation
a/n: this one is for my plus sized baddies ໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১
“fuck, fuck, fuck..” to say that rafe was gone and so far away in his own state of hysteria would be putting it nicely. he looked thoroughly flushed underneath you, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning a bright pink as your hips moved up and down his length. rafe laid there at your mercy, his fingertips digging so hard into the plush flesh of your thighs, you couldn’t help but whine at the slight discomfort every time he managed to grip you even tighter than before. with teary eyes, rafe gazed up at you as his jaw fell slack, his eyebrows knitting together as you switched from bouncing on top of him to dragging your hips slowly over his lap so he could revel in the feeling of you being wrapped around him— so warm and tight.
“holy shit, baby,” rafe groaned, craning his neck to look down and see where you two were connected, “f-feels so fucking good.” he shuddered, blinking slowly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. you watched rafe’s chest cave in with every breath, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he cursed obscenities through gritted teeth. moving his palms to the curves of your hips, he urged you to lean down and rest against his chest, one arm wrapping tight around your waist, and the other gripping the roots of your hair as his mouth latched onto your nipple. “oh—!” you cried out when he started fucking up into you, the plap! plap! plap! of his skin meeting yours making your cheeks heat.
rafe couldn’t comprehend anything else except for the sweet scent of your perfume, the softness of your skin, and the wetness that surrounded his cock with every thrust inside your needy cunt. “i don’t know what you do to me,” rafe held you close, “every time i’m inside you, i can’t fucking think.” he laughed, feeling damn near psychotic by how fast the smile left his lips when he felt you clench around him. slamming his palm down, you yelped when rafe grabbed a handful of your ass without any kind of gentle regard, his teeth nipping at your skin as you reveled in the pure unadulterated pleasure licking your insides. “this body is perfect,” he grunted, groping at your tummy, “you’re perfect.”
before you could register his words, rafe was pulling out and scooting down the bed so he could seat you on his face, his strong arms wrapping around your thighs before his tongue was flicking against your clit. doubling over, you threaded your fingers in his hair as a broken moan sounded from your lips. “oh god!” you squealed, your shoulders dropping in defeat upon feeling the familiar tension beginning to coil in your belly. rafe didn’t care about being soft or sweet when he was devouring you like a man starved. times like this called for your ass and thighs to smother him in a way that had his cock standing up in the air by itself, the tip of his nose nudging your sensitive bundle of nerves as he worked your entrance with his tongue— the combination making you cum on his face in record time.
rafe made sure to hold you in place when overstimulation set in so that you couldn’t pull away from him until he was done, your orgasm ripping through you as you shook and trembled in his hold. you were nothing short of intoxicating, your sticky succulence driving rafe mad with lust as he continued lapping at your glossy folds. he could never get enough of you— not when every time felt like the first time all over’s again. hearing you cry, seeing you squirm, feeling your body react to every praise and compliment he showered you with.. there was never going to be another feeling that could top this one.
hmmm thinking of ur biting threat which has inspired me… what if reader leaves bite marks and scratches on rafe. how would he react to comments like “did you get into a fight with a shark/bear” when he takes his shirt off at the gym
RAFE LOVES IT WHEN YOU MARK HIM !
rafe was obsessed with you leaving your scratches and bites all over his body, he loved being reminded of the things that the two of you did together.
"jesus christ, what the fuck happened to your back? did you get into a fight with a bear?" topped asked, hand on his chin and a stunned expression on his face.
rafe's eyebrows scrunched in confusion, not knowing what this idiot was talking about, as per usual.
he managed to turn his neck and look in the mirror that was behind him, and sure enough there were deep scratches that started at his shoulder blades and ended at the bottom of his back.
he huffed out a laugh and shook his head in disbelief, "that's my fuckin' girl" he murmued under his breath.
an weird sense of pride filled his body, seeing your marks on him would always bring this reaction.
knowing you as well as he did, rafe assumed that you were a little rougher, knowing that he was going to the gym in the morning and would therefore be taking his top off.
pulling himself out of the trance he was currently swept up in, he looked up to topper who was still staring at him.
rafe casually shrugged his shoulders, "don't know how that happened"
someone else laughed and chimed in, "bet it was his girl, she always did look wild"
the weight that rafe had just picked up fell back to the floor, causing everyone to fall quiet, hushed "oooh's" going around the group.
topper hesitantly put his hand on rafe's shoulder, "just ignore him, man"
rafe nodded and tilted his head towards the exit, "fuck off before i break your neck" he grunted, sighing as he moved back to the weights.
