sexist!season1!rafe and his podcast !! for @rafeslittlepup
the couch creaks under the weight of rafe and his friends, cheap beers half-drank, a ring light flickering weakly in the corner. the podcast mics are clipped to the coffee table like it’s some serious production. it’s not. they’re in his living room. the air smells like cologne, beer foam, and bad opinions.
you’re curled on rafe’s lap, legs tucked to the side, wearing one of his big shirts and fuzzy socks. totally out of place against the grimy, boyish backdrop. you're absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of his hand, looking up at him with big, oblivious eyes while he says shit like:
"nah, for real... women want to be led. they crave it. all that independent talk? fake. deep down they wanna be claimed."
he tightens his arm around your waist like he's proving a point.
his friends snicker and nod like he’s preaching gospel.
you just hide your face in his neck, pretending you’re not hearing any of it.
then kelce leans into the mic, laughing,
"and bro, rafe got the softest little thing sittin' here like a trophy. like, tell me i'm wrong."
rafe smirks, leans back into the couch like a king, tipping his beer at the camera.
"yeah, and she likes it too. don’t let ‘em lie to you, boys. the right one wants to be taken care of."
his hand slides up your thigh under the blanket, casual, possessive.
you squirm, embarrassed, but he just holds you tighter, dropping a kiss to your hairline like it’s nothing.
the mic picks up the rustle of fabric, the way he murmurs low against your temple:
"see? peaceful. that's how you know you’re doing it right."
"why modern women need to be humbled (feat. rafe cameron)"
you're still half-asleep on his lap when they hit publish.
