May 5
frat!rafe x goldengirl!reader m.list
✿ Chanel and Bruised Egos
✿ Kinks and Turn Offs
✿ Gluttony
✿ Dress Code
✿ “Dare You to Look at Him Again”
✿ Magic Mike at Home
seen from United States
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seen from Yemen
seen from Türkiye
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Jordan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
frat!rafe x goldengirl!reader m.list
✿ Chanel and Bruised Egos
✿ Kinks and Turn Offs
✿ Gluttony
✿ Dress Code
✿ “Dare You to Look at Him Again”
✿ Magic Mike at Home
WHATTT OMG 💓♥️🩷💗💗💓💘💝💝 and what does 'soon' mean exactly??? 😋😋
right now!!!
frat!rafe x golden girl!reader
warnings: smut, lots of jealousy
Magic Mike at Home
Rafe wasn’t even supposed to be there. He was just tagging along with Topper to Kelce’s place before they headed out to meet some girls. Standard Friday night. Liquor, loud voices, a little weed. Nothing complicated.
Until she came downstairs.
She was Kelce’s little sister, and Rafe hated her. The way she talked, the way she looked at him, the way she existed. He hated how smug she always was, how sweet she acted around her dad and how sharp her tongue got when Rafe walked into the room.
And tonight, she was dressed like sin in six-inch heels.
The black dress clung to her like it was made for her skin. Barely-there straps, the hem riding high on her thighs. Her hair was done. Lips glossy. Her wrist glittered with bracelets. She looked expensive. Dangerous. Rafe blinked and realized his jaw was clenched.
Topper let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Kelce frowned. “The hell are you wearing?”
She didn’t even stop walking. “Relax. It’s for girls’ night.”
“You’re not wearing that to dinner.”
She popped a piece of gum between her lips. “Good thing we’re not going to dinner, then.”
Rafe shifted on the couch, his drink forgotten. “Where?”
She looked at him for the first time. Slow. Smirking. “Jealous?”
He didn’t answer. She smiled wider.
Kelce sighed. “We’re heading to the store. Be back in twenty. Don’t touch my PlayStation.”
“You wish I wanted to,” she muttered.
The front door slammed behind them, leaving only silence. And her. And him.
She made it to the hallway mirror and touched up her gloss, humming under her breath like she didn’t feel Rafe’s stare burning down her back.
“I asked you a question,” he said, finally.
She looked at him in the mirror. “And I ignored you on purpose.”
He stood.
She didn’t flinch.
He walked over, slow, steady, stopping just behind her. “Where are you going?”
“Magic Mike show.”
His breath caught.
She smiled. “Girls night. Front row seats. Lap dances. It’s gonna be so much fun.”
“No.”
“No?” she echoed, blinking innocently.
“You’re not going.”
She turned around. “You don’t get to tell me where I can go.”
“You think I’m gonna let you get felt up by some half-naked stranger on stage? Fuck no.”
She stepped closer, looking up at him like she wanted to pick a fight. “Let me?” she echoed, her voice sugar-sweet. “Since when do I need your permission?”
Rafe’s hand curled into a fist at his side. “You wanna see a show that bad?” he muttered. “Fine.”
Before she could blink, he was pulling her up the stairs.
She gasped, stumbling behind him as he yanked her into her own bedroom, door slammed shut, back pressed to it hard. Her heart hammered. So did his.
He looked at her like he hated her. Like he wanted to ruin her. Like he would.
“Get on the bed.”
She blinked. “Are you serious—”
“Now.”
Her knees hit the edge of the mattress before her mouth could catch up. Rafe took a step back, dragging his hoodie off slow, tossing it to the floor, then slipping his belt from his jeans with a deliberate snap
“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.
“You wanted Magic Mike, baby,” he said, voice dark and thick and mean. “I’m better.”
His shirt came off next, muscles cut and tight, chain still swinging around his neck. He moved toward her with a lazy, predatory confidence, hands going to his jeans, sliding them down slow, leaving only his boxers—gray, low, full.
She sat frozen, wide-eyed, breath caught in her throat.
Rafe smirked. “You gonna tuck a dollar in or just sit there looking pretty?”
He grabbed her wrists, pulled her to sit fully on the bed, and rolled his hips right in front of her face. Not touching—just out of reach. His abs flexed. The bulge in his boxers pressed close to her cheek. She gasped.
“See that?” he muttered, reaching down to stroke himself through the fabric, eyes locked on hers. “That’s what you do to me. Not some choreographed dancer. You.”
She bit her lip.
“Bet you were gonna scream for one of them,” he said, voice gravel. “Beg to get touched. You’d let some stranger grind on you, right? Let him pull your legs apart in front of everyone?”
“No,” she whispered.
“You were dressed for it.”
Her breath hitched as he pressed his thigh between hers.
“I’ll give you something to scream about,” he murmured, voice dark and full of jealousy. “Something just for you. No audience.”
His boxers hit the floor, and her breath hitched hard in her throat.
Rafe was already half-hard, heavy and flushed, bobbing slightly as he stood over her. He didn’t give her time to get shy about it. Just stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the base, and slow stroked himself while staring down at her with that cocky smirk she hated.
“Go on,” he muttered. “This what you wanted, right? A show? Don’t act shy now, baby.”
Her thighs squeezed together.
“I said,” he growled, taking her jaw in his free hand, “look.”
She looked.
“Bet none of those dollar-store dancers downtown would do this for you,” he muttered. “Bet they wouldn’t know how to use you right. Just desperate to feel some drunk girl’s hands on them for a tip. Pathetic.”
His thumb pressed against her lip. “Open.”
She did.
He tapped his tip against her tongue—slow, filthy, deliberate. Then again. Then slid it just barely into her mouth, just to hear her gasp around it.
“There you go,” he said, low. “That’s better. Earn the show.”
She closed her lips around him, and his hips twitched instantly. A groan slipped out, ragged and strained.
“Fuck, yeah… just like that. Pretty little mouth takin’ it like you were made for it.”
He gave her more, not even pretending to hold back. Just grabbed the back of her head, controlled the pace, rolling his hips into her face with slow, grinding thrusts. Her mascara was still perfect. Her heels were still on. And she was gagging quietly on his cock in the middle of her own bed while her brother was probably ten minutes away.
It made Rafe feral.
“This what you wear for other guys?” he rasped, voice thick. “Tight little dresses just to act like a tease? Bet you never even planned on going to that show. You just wanted to get a rise out of me.”
She moaned around him—half in protest, half in agreement. It didn’t matter. He already knew.
He pulled out with a wet pop and gripped her chin, thumb swiping her slick bottom lip.
“I should be pissed at you,” he muttered, leaning close, his cock still hard between them. “And I am.”
“Then do something about it,” she said, barely above a whisper.
His eyes darkened.
The next second, she was on her back, dress shoved up to her waist, panties peeled down and tossed somewhere behind him. His hand pressed flat to her stomach while he knelt between her thighs.
“No dumb music,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her thigh. “No lights. No audience. Just me. Just you.”
Then he dove in.
His mouth was rough—ravenous—and he groaned like he’d been starving for her. Tongue flat and wide, sucking at her clit until her back arched. When she moaned his name, he grabbed her thighs and shoved them further apart.
“Say it again.”
“Rafe—fuck—Rafe—”
He hummed against her, lips wet and dragging across her slick folds, tongue dipping deep before sliding back up to suck her clit again. One hand slid up her body and gripped her chest through the fabric of the dress.
“Keep it on,” he said. “You wore it to be fucked in.”
She came like that—heels on, dress bunched around her waist, Rafe’s head between her thighs and his name punched out of her mouth in a gasping cry. He didn’t stop until she was shaking.
Then he stood. Pumped himself once. Twice.
“Roll over.”
She was still catching her breath. “You’re not serious—”
“I’m dead serious.”
She obeyed.
Hands and knees on her own bed, cheek pressed to the mattress. He gripped her hips hard, shoved himself inside in one deep, filthy thrust.
They both moaned.
“That’s it,” he muttered, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanna act like a slut? I’ll fuck you like one. No crowd. No lights. Just me using what’s mine.”
He pulled her hair.
“You hear me?”
She moaned a broken yes, pushing her hips back onto him, greedy now. Shameless.
It didn’t matter how much they hated each other. Didn’t matter how wrong it was or that her brother could walk through the door at any second. All that mattered was the way his cock felt dragging deep inside her, the sting of his fingers on her skin, and how right it felt to be ruined by the one boy she swore she hated most.
She wasn’t going to the Magic Mike show.
She’d already seen the main act.
And he didn’t accept tips. Only moans. Only hers.
dividers: @/cursed-carmine @/cafekitsune
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyyy @ellayahhs @lifeonawhim @usseraloo
frat!rafe x golden girl!reader
warnings: praise kink and possessive behavior
“Dare You to Look at Him Again”
Everyone was watching her tonight.
It wasn’t anything new—she’d always been the center of the party, the girl people looked for when they walked in. Perfect hair, perfect dress, perfect smile that knew how to flash just enough teeth without ever looking too eager. She laughed at the right jokes, danced with the right people, and drank just enough to keep her edges soft. But tonight, she was doing it for one reason.
Rafe Cameron was across the room. And she could feel him watching her.
His cup hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, still balanced on the lip of the counter while his hand stayed clenched around it. She could see him from the corner of her eye, lounging in that lazy, possessive way he always did, like this whole damn house belonged to him. In a way, it kind of did—he was the one people followed. He was the one they didn’t cross. And he was the one she was baiting.
She let JJ lean in too close. Let his hand brush her lower back. Let him whisper something in her ear that made her smile slow and syrupy. She didn’t care what he was saying. She just cared that Rafe saw it.
When he finally moved, it was like a shift in gravity. The air changed. People instinctively stepped out of his way. She only had time to catch her breath before he was in front of her, wrapping one hand around her wrist and pulling her through the crowd without a word. He didn’t yell. He didn’t make a scene. He just took.
And she let him.
They ended up in a dark hallway, one of the guest bedrooms at the back of the frat house that didn’t get used unless someone was drunk or desperate. The moment the door clicked shut, he backed her up against it, eyes blazing.
“You think you’re cute?” he growled. “Letting that idiot put his hands on you like I’m not standing right there?”
“I wasn’t—”
He cut her off with a scoff, pressing his hand flat against the door beside her head. “Don’t play dumb. You wanted me to see. You wanted to get a rise out of me.”
Her breath hitched. That was the thing about Rafe—he could always see straight through her. Through the sugar and sunshine and that golden-girl glow everyone else got distracted by. He saw the part of her that craved the bite. The burn. The boy who’d grab her harder just to prove he could.
She didn’t respond. Not with words.
He leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne and whiskey settling over her like a second skin. His hand slid up her thigh, slow and possessive. “I dare you to look at another guy like that again,” he whispered against her cheek. “Just try it. See what the fuck I do.”
She shivered.
And that was all he needed.
He kissed her hard, tongue sliding past her lips before she could even gasp. His free hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss, to own it. When she moaned, soft and needy into his mouth, he pulled back just enough to look at her.
“That’s what you wanted, huh?” he murmured. “Wanted to be reminded who you belong to?”
She nodded.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Rafe.”
His eyes darkened at the sound of it. At how fast she folded, how easy it was to make her melt. He pushed the strap of her dress off her shoulder, lips brushing the skin there like a brand.
“Good girl,” he whispered, dragging his mouth down to her collarbone. “You act out for attention, you get attention. But only mine.”
She nodded again, dizzy under his hands, under his weight, under him.
“You gonna be good now?”
She breathed, “I’ll be so good.”
And Rafe smiled. The kind of smile that meant she was exactly where he wanted her—breathless, desperate, and too wrecked to remember why she ever tried to play with fire in the first place.
dividers: @/bernardsbendystraws @/uzmacchiato
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby @rafesbabygirlx @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyyy @ellayahhs @lifeonawhim @usseraloo
frat!rafe x goldengirl!reader
Dress Code
It started with a dress code violation—at least, that’s what he called it.
“Skirt’s a little short, don’t you think?” Rafe muttered as she breezed past the poolside cabana, hair glossy and sunglasses oversized, lips shiny and pink like she was selling something. She didn’t even slow down.
“And your mouth’s still a little too open, don’t you think?”
Topper wheezed. Kelce muttered, “Oh my god,” like he’d been through this before. Because he had. Every time she showed up at the club. Every time Rafe was already there. They clashed like it was sport, both too rich and too pretty to be ignored.
She dropped her purse on the lounge chair beside her brother and slid her sunglasses up onto her head, giving Rafe a once-over like he was a wine she’d never order.
“You’re still wearing those stupid boat shoes?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“They’re classic.”
“They’re tired.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re obsessed.”
Topper looked between them, sipping his beer. “This is, like, a mating ritual, right?”
Kelce groaned. “Shut up.”
She grabbed a lemon water from the cooler like she hadn’t just set the whole patio on fire. Rafe leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched. She always did this—walked in like a hurricane wrapped in white linen and lip gloss, flipping his world inside out without even meaning to. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the worst part. She liked getting under his skin.
“You’re not even a member,” he called after her. “You just leech off your brother’s name.”
She didn’t turn around. “Still more useful than leeching off your dad’s last brain cell.”
That one stung. Not that he’d let it show.
It was always like this. Snapping, clawing, pretending not to notice how close they got when they argued. She hated his smirk, his voice, his existence. He hated the way her perfume lingered after she left, how every guy in the room looked at her like she was the only thing worth staring at.
Later, after the sun had dropped low and most of the club crowd had cleared out, Rafe found her by the tennis courts. Alone. Her heels were off, hair a little messier, gloss faded. She didn’t see him at first.
“You stalking me now?” she asked when she finally did, not moving from the bench.
“Just making sure you didn’t trip over your ego and crack your head open.”
“Aw. You care.”
He laughed—dry and humorless. “No. I just don’t want Kelce blaming me if you bleed on the clay.”
She looked at him then, really looked. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, skin sun-kissed, that same stupid gold chain catching the court lights. He was hot. That was the problem. He was hot and arrogant and loud and wrong for her in every way.
“You know,” she said slowly, “if you hate me so much, you sure do spend a lot of time hovering.”
He stepped closer. Not touching. Just there.
“And if you hate me,” he said, voice lower now, “why’d you come sit where I could find you?”
She didn’t have a good answer.
Neither of them moved.
The silence stretched, hot and heavy.
He looked down at her legs, bare and crossed at the ankle. Her skirt was still short. His mouth twitched.
“You should go,” he said finally, throat tight.
“You first.”
He didn’t. She didn’t.
And when Kelce came looking twenty minutes later, neither of them had moved an inch—but the air between them was different. Charged. Dangerous.
They still hated each other.
They just weren’t sure what kind of hate it was anymore.
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby @rafesbabygirlx @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyyy @ellayahhs @lifeonawhim @usseraloo
First of CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS. You deserve it so much!
My request is 🧡 with Rafe. This is such a fun concept, please have fun with it! I want you to do whatever comes to mind, I just want it to be that sin. 🤭
thank you so much bby!!!! here!!!
7 Deadly Sins
frat!rafe x goldengirl!reader
Gluttony
Rafe doesn’t know how to stop wanting her.
Not when she shows up to the party in white. Not when she throws her head back laughing and the lights catch her glossed lips, her bare shoulders, her little tennis skirt that sways like it’s teasing him on purpose. Not when her hand rests on some other guy’s bicep for just a second too long and Rafe tastes acid behind his teeth.
She’s golden. In every way. Sparkling jewelry, expensive perfume, soft voice when she talks to professors, sharp tongue when someone crosses a line. She gets invited everywhere without ever asking. She gets whatever drink she wants without waiting in line. And Rafe—well, Rafe gets drunk off watching her.
Off wanting her.
He’s in his usual spot on the worn leather couch in the frat house living room, half-tanked on whiskey and something sugary she brought. There’s a smear of buffalo sauce on his ring finger, and he’s watching her like he’s starving. She doesn’t even know it, or maybe she does. Maybe she always knows. She looks at him once and his jaw clenches.
He wants her quiet and messy in his lap. Wants to ruin her lipstick and press fingerprints into her thighs. Wants her glowing and ruined for him only.
She passes by again—too close—and he grabs her wrist.
She raises a brow, amused. “You good?”
“No,” Rafe says, not even pretending. “You wearing that on purpose?”
She tilts her head. “What, this?” she says sweetly, doing a slow, innocent twirl in front of him, skirt flaring. “Didn’t know it mattered.”
Of course she knew.
He tugs her into his lap without another word, lets her shift and pretend she’s annoyed while she settles against his chest. She smells like peaches and something floral. He presses his mouth against her neck and doesn’t care who sees.
It’s never enough. Never just once. Never just a kiss. Not when it comes to her.
Because gluttony isn’t just greed. It’s obsession. It’s the ache that says mine mine mine every time someone else makes her smile. It’s how he pulls her deeper into his world just so he can feel full—for a minute. For an hour. Until the next time she walks away and he’s starving all over again.
Rafe Cameron has everything—money, parties, girls—but he’s still hungry.
And it’s always her.
dividers: @/cursed-carmine
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby @rafesbabygirlx @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyyy @ellayahhs @lifeonawhim @usseraloo
do u imagine any of ur !readers plus size
i personally imagine goldengirl!reader as a black plus size baddie, like hourglass kinda plus size yk? and frat!rafe LOVESSSS it
and blackcat reader is def a lil chubby cause of the baby :)