rafe cameron who can’t keep his hands to himself
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - mentions fingering, slightly mentions dacryphilia, slight mentions of dark content (like if you squint), mention of previous sex, fem!reader, established relationship
────────── ୨ৎ ───────────
rafe cameron isn’t used to not getting what he wanted.
he just can’t keep his hands to himself, not when you’re near. it’s not just about attraction (though that’s part of it); it’s instinct, compulsion, obsession. he touches like he needs to remind himself you’re real. like if he holds you long enough, tight enough, maybe everything in his world won’t fall apart. his hands trace your spine, your jaw, your breasts.
you’re sleeping beside him, chest heaving slightly and mouth ajar. the air still smells like the previous activities from just a couple hours ago. his hands travel lower now. it’s slow, calculated, like a sick part of himself doesn’t want you to wake up. like he wants to take it from you unknowingly. his hands draw circles on your stomach, feather touches causing you to stir in your sleep. he waits a second, letting you fall back into the deep sleep, before continuing. his hands are grazing your panties now. slowly but surely, getting you worked back up in your sleep. it’s sick, it’s sadistic. you’re asleep, unaware, and he’s playing with you.
“baby” he whispers. “wake up”
you turn slightly, eyes blinking up at his face before raking down his frame. “yeah?” your voice is raspy, you’re still half asleep.
“i need you” he answers.
you close your eyes again “but i‘m tired rafey” you mumble.
“please.”
that caught your attention. he barely pleaded, never begged. he needed this. and you were such a good girl for him. so you pushed your panties aside and let him stick two fingers inside you. yeah he really couldn’t keep his hands to himself…
