𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐… 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼?
𝒩𝑒𝓇𝒹!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝓍 𝒮𝑜𝓇𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
4.6K words
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ strip studying w/ rewards, heavy praise, oral (fem. receiving) while he m@sterbates, unprotected p in v, spanking, physically sensitive reader, teasing, creampie, pet names (baby, pretty + no y/n), reader gets academically manipulated in the hottest way possible + glasses stay on ᰄ
“Holy shit,” you mutter.
The flashcard drops back onto the bed as you drag both hands down your face, squeezing your eyes shut. You draw a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to force your shoulders to relax. It doesn’t help.
Chapter meetings, recruitment prep, philanthropy planning, classes, and another event this weekend—all of it piling up while you’re somehow supposed to memorize half a textbook too.
“I can’t do this,” you hiss.
You snatch another card from the pile, reading the question twice before your mind goes completely blank. Nothing. Not even a guess.
“Seriously?”
You toss it onto the bed with the rest, frustration bubbling up in your chest. You know this isn’t really about the flashcards. It hasn’t been for a while now.
It’s every obligation stacking on top of each other until even something as simple as studying feels impossible.
You pull another card from the stack, forcing yourself to slow down. One question. That’s all.
“Okay…” you whisper.
Your eyes scan the card once more before the answer finally clicks.
“Alright.”
A win. Small, sure. But hey, it’s something. A smile tugs at your lips, real enough to crack the pressure that’s been building all night.
For a second, it feels manageable—like maybe you can actually get through this one card, then the next, then the next.
Your shoulders loosen just a fraction, tension easing as you let out another breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
Your phone buzzes on the mattress, and you look down at it, a text message from your Vice President asking you to weigh in on something that absolutely could’ve waited, throwing you off your schedule—and off your game for the moment.
The quiet stretches for a beat, the soft rustle of paper the only sound as your fingers hover over the next card, hesitating.
You grab it and flip it over, looking down at it, letting your eyes shut when you see a word you know you know. I mean, how could you not know this shit?
The doorknob twists.
Your head snaps toward the sound, wide eyes meeting Rafe’s the second he steps inside—fresh from the shower, damp hair disappearing beneath a backwards hat, dirty blonde strands escaping around the brim.
A fitted polo hugs his broad shoulders, tucked just enough to look intentional without trying too hard, khaki shorts sitting low on his hips.
His skin still glows from the shower, smelling faintly of the cologne you bought him for his birthday and the soap that always clings to your sheets long after he leaves.
“Baby?” he chuckles, lifting an eyebrow in your direction. “You okay?”
He nudges his glasses a little higher on his nose, looking at you like he already knows the answer.
“Mhmm… Yeah.” You laugh weakly. “M’trying to study. I’m done. I’m just—I’m fucked.” The cards slip from your fingers, fluttering down to the comforter.
“You’re not fucked,” he sighs. “Didn’t hear my name gettin’ screamed outside your door now, did I?”
Your lips pull to the side, fighting off a smile, heat blooming in your cheeks as he crawls onto the bed.
“Plus, you’re fully clothed, pretty,” he mumbles, tilting in when he gets close enough, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Fuckin’ hate that for me.”
You giggle, turning into him a little more, feeling him smile into your skin, your body instantly sinking, hoping he’ll crawl the rest of the way on top and pin you underneath him.
“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks, his voice deep and warm against your neck.
“I wanna be done,” you whisper, tugging at the front of his shirt, seeing the space between you—his deep v-lines disappearing below his shorts, all that tanned skin making it impossible to think about anything else.
“Don’t wanna work anymore, huh? Why are you bein’ such a baby?” he teases.
“Am not.”
“Are too,” he snickers. As you continue your childish back-and-forth, the stubble on his cheek scrapes lightly over your soft skin. “Let me help you.”
“Not with this,” you pout. Studying isn’t what you want from him. Right now, you just want him.
“Think I can help you with somethin’ else?” He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks, kissing you tenderly.
“I know you can,” you whisper.
“You using me for my body right now?” he teases, and you nod. “Thank you.” You giggle at his response, nails slipping around to rake up the broad expanse of his back. “But it’s not gonna work.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause we have a test tomorrow.”
“Forgive me for wanting my boyfriend.”
“Stop,” he rasps with a warm laugh, letting his head fall heavy against your shoulder. “You’re just bein’ a brat. Shit’s not gonna work with me.”
“Whatever,” you mumble.
“Whatever, huh?” he asks as his rough finger slides a little further up your thigh, tracing under the hem of your shorts, making your hips shift. “So sensitive, baby.”
“Rafe…”
“Just sayin’,” he whispers.
You slap your hands against the bed as he crashes down beside you. He scoops up a few neon cards, his grin widening as his big arm wraps behind your back, palm settling beside your hip.
He kisses your cheek, and you roll your eyes, rearranging the little stack in your hands.
“For the record, Cameron. A distraction would have been preferred,” you whisper, leaning into him, that scowl playing on your lips, jerking away when he tickles you. “Enough,” you scold, grabbing his wrist.
“Just gotta get you out of your head, baby,” he hums before his attention gets pulled away.
Your phone vibrates on the mattress—a text from one of your younger sisters in the chapter flashes across the screen. Rafe reaches over, grabs your phone off the bed, and sets it aside before you can check it.
“I need to answer that.”
“Bullshit, you don’t.” He gives you a side eye. “See how attentive you were a minute ago? You got this. Just gotta focus on what’s happening right here.”
“Mhmm,” you hum bitterly. He reaches out, fingers wrapping around your jaw to turn you toward him.
“Studying isn’t half-bad with me, I promise.” His plush lips meet yours, kissing you deeply, chuckling into the kiss when you chase his lips, not wanting to stop. "Ready?"
“No,” you whisper, sucking in a breath when his hand comes and rests on your upper thigh, squeezing down, making your thigh draw in, chills crawling up your spine. “Don’t you have chess?”
“Not for a bit,” he answers. “Stop fightin’ it, baby.”
Rafe’s arm hooks around your waist, drawing you closer in his lap as you split his legs. You lean back into his broad chest, and he snuggles close, breathing you in for a moment.
“How hard can this class be, baby? We got this,” he mumbles against your skin, foregoing the annoying reality that he sits firmly at the top of the class. But he means it, the words sounding so earnest you can’t help but sigh.
“Alright,” you whisper, flipping the first card in the deck.
He peers over your shoulder, lips resting on your skin, thumbs tracing along your bare thighs as you think. Your phone vibrates again, and his big arms wrap around your waist, fast holding you in place.
“Don’t,” he stops you before you can start.
His arms soften when he feels you do the same, a hand coming up to draw you in, kissing you, soft and slow.
You relax, concentrating on his lips—how they feel against yours, soft and sweet. The warmth of his body surrounds you, guiding you to relax a little more against him.
“Focus, baby.”
You shut your eyes, trying your best to clear your mind and settle into the task.
“Opsimath,” you whisper.
“Mhmm,” he hums, the utterance buzzing against your skin. “Remember in class last week… Opsē sounds like…”
You think for a beat, recalling that term from the week prior, the scratchy chalk scraping against the board as the professor broke down the term, Rafe sneaking into class late with two coffees in hand while the professor had his back turned. He smiled at you, handed you your drink, then leaned over to whisper, “What’d I miss?”
The question was ridiculous. One glance at the board and he already knew the answer. He’d just wanted an excuse to lean over and talk to you.
“Sounds like ‘oopsie,’” you whisper. “You say that when you’re late.”
“And, manthanein, means…” he asks.
“To learn—because you learn in math class.” He growls with delight, making you smile. “Someone who starts learning late in life.” The words breathe out of you, and the tension you were holding in your shoulders falls.
“Exactly.” Rafe slides the next card to the front of the stack, holding it out in front of the two of you. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your shoulder as you settle against him again.
You study it for a second, your eyebrows pinching together before the answer slowly starts piecing itself together in your head.
“Metacognition,” you whisper. “Thinking about your own thinking.”
“There it is,” he smiles warmly.
You feel his hand squeeze your thigh, your body melting back against his chest before he reaches for another card.
The next one comes quicker. Then the next. Then the next. By the fourth, you’re answering before he can even finish reading the definition, your confidence building a little more every time he smiles.
“Told you,” he chuckles. “You know more than you think you do.”
You grin to yourself, a little proud now. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” he assures, thumb tracing another lazy path across your thigh while you search through the stack. Your eyes flick toward the nightstand when your phone chirps.
The rough pad of his thumb drifts just high enough to make your leg twitch beneath his hand. “Rafe,” you laugh, your body drawing in, before you wiggle away.
“What?” he asks, looking back at you like he has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. “Just gettin’ my girl back on track.”
“Well, knock it off,” you grumble, snuggling back into him a little more.
“Stop bein’ bad, and I’ll think about it.”
“I’m not being bad.”
“I mean, you got this shit in the bag,” he gestures lazily to the cards. “Focus game needs a little work.” A crooked smile pulls at his lips as he presses another kiss just below your ear. “And, you’re cute when you’re all jumpy.”
“I’m trying to study.”
“And you’re doin’ a damn good job, aren’t you?” he praises, and the knot that’s been sitting in your chest all evening doesn’t feel nearly as tight anymore.
You’re still nervous about tomorrow, but the words aren’t swimming together anymore. They’re actually sticking.
Rafe hands you another card, and you answer it almost immediately.
“Atta baby,” he praises.
“Rewards?” you ask, turning just enough to catch the sparkle in his eye. “Do I get a reward for that one?”
His eyebrows lift and a smirk curls on his lips. “A reward?”
“Mhmm,” you hum.
“What kinda reward are we negotiatin’ for here?”
You pretend to think about it for a second, tapping the corner of the flashcard against your chin while your eyes drift over him. A little smile pulls at your lips before you look back at him.
“Maybe, just maybe… I already know what I want. And so do you.”
Rafe lets out a quiet laugh, already shaking his head. “You are such a slut for me.”
“You thanked me for using you for your body, Rafe Cameron. I think we both know who the slut is.”
“Valid.”
“I’ve had a stressful day, baby,” you sigh. “A stressful week.”
He smiles, softer this time. “I know.” His fingers brush over your hip before nudging the next flashcard toward you. “You’ve got eight cards left, baby.”
“That’s too many.”
“So needy,” he chuckles, settling another flashcard into your hand. “C’mon, pretty. Eight more.”
You study it for a second, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek before the answer comes to you with more confidence than the last one.
“Schema,” you answer quietly. “Mental framework that helps organize information.”
Rafe glances down at the back of the card before a smile spreads across his face.
“See?” he hums, giving your hip a proud little squeeze. “All in your head for what?”
“Thank you,” you whisper, tilting toward him as he moves closer, kissing you softly. His nose brushes against yours, breathing softly with you.
“Take off your shirt.”
"Huh?" you ask as your cheeks warm up—heart working a little faster. It's a request you've heard from him a million times, unexpected at this moment.
“You heard me,” he mumbles, warm and deep as he flicks off his hat, raking his big fingers through his hair. “Take. It. Off.”
You reach for the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head, tossing it to the side.
Rafe looks over your shoulder, his hold around you tightening as his lips press against your bare shoulder, a quiet hum of approval vibrating against your skin.
“Fuck me,” he sighs, taking you in for a second, pushing out a deep breath behind you. “Baby.” His voice comes out needy, that strict program he was running since you tried to slip underneath him the first time seemingly crumbling away.
He strips off his shirt as well, big hands landing heavy on your legs with a playful clap, making your thighs draw together, but he pulls you open, smiling against your skin.
His palms rub and squeeze the inside of your thighs, your bare back pressing against his chest when you tilt closer. He breathes you in again, your soft body and sweet perfume smelling like heaven to him.
The heat of his body wraps around you, the chill of his chain pressing against your spine. Rafe’s fingers drift higher, teasing the sensitive skin between your thigh and your panties with one hand, taking that top card off the stack with the other.
“Keep going,” he mumbles. “Doing so fuckin’ good for me.”
The next one doesn’t come quite as easily. Your eyebrows knit together while your eyes move over the word again, trying to pin it to a memory or a moment from class.
Rafe stays quiet, letting you work through it before he finally tips his head against yours.
“What do I tell you when I’m coming over?” he breathes, turning into you, making your chest tighten when his thumb moves higher, tracing over the lace between your thighs before he continues. “And I’m runnin’ late, but I fucking need you.” The words scrape past his lips, making your body tingle.
“You tell me you’re gonna take a shortcut.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, chuckling when he feels how wet you are—the subtle rock of your hips when he presses a little harder.
“A mental shortcut,” you whisper, turning your chin toward him, his gaze falling to your lips as he waits for the rest. “That helps you make decisions.”
“Heuristic,” he whispers, the corners of his lips tipping upward. “You didn’t need me. You got this shit.”
His hands slide to the band of your shorts, easing them down, nodding toward you to keep going. He groans as the material works down your thighs, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties.
You shift over onto your hands and knees, already expecting him to take off his shorts too, and he chuckles, eyes locked on you as he tugs them over his hips, watching with a smile as you drag them down the rest of his strong thighs.
He adjusts slightly on your bed, looking back at you on your hands and knees. “Co’mere, baby,” he murmurs, and you settle on top of his lap, resting your body on top of him.
He starts to take his glasses off, and you shake your head, lacing your fingers with his.
“Don’t.”
“No?” A soft smile tugs at his lips as he drifts a little closer.
“You’re perfect,” you whisper, fussing with his hair as his cheeks flush. He tips his head down, trying to hide it before you can catch him, but you know better.
“Good,” he murmurs, a smug little smile settling on his lips. “Wanna see my girl.”
His long, thick cock is trapped in cotton still, the swell of it stretching the material. He presses the stack of cards into your hand. His palms instantly find their place on your ass, grabbing two fistfuls of skin.
"Six more cards and not a lot of clothes left, baby? What are we gonna do about that?" he asks.
“I’m sure you can think of other rewards, Rafe Cameron,” you whisper. He reaches up, fingers tangling in your hair to pull you to his mouth.
He kisses you deeply, tongue sliding between your lips instantly—hips rocking with the tempo of your kiss. “Got a few ideas,” he murmurs. “Think you can get them all right for me?”
His smile pulls along your lips when you whisper yes, his hand still gripping your hair, the other kneading your ass, coaching each drag of your hips on top.
He pulls back from the kiss reluctantly, tapping against the bed for a flashcard. “Neuroplasticity,” he mumbles, licking his lips as his eyes fall to your lace-covered tits, knowing exactly where he’s going next.
“Chapter meetings,” you whisper. “This is the one I had locked in.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his hands drifting up your spine. “Tell me more.”
“Every chapter meeting,” you whisper. “I used to rehearse every word. Now I can walk in and figure it out as I go.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, his head tipping back against the headboard as his fingers pinch the clasp of your bra, waiting for the term.
“Neuroplasticity… your brain adapts because you keep practicing.”
Your bra falls away as he chuckles proudly, pulling you in as he lowers his lips, mouth wrapping around your nipple as his hand squeezes your breast in his big palm, the other slapping your ass.
Your head lulls back and his tongue flicks across your bud, letting you go with a pop, kissing up the curve of your breast, along your collarbone.
His tongue slides along your skin, making you shiver and throb, the man snagging the necklace at your neck, catching the metal between his teeth, the white gold chain connecting the two of you.
The dainty R charm slips from between his teeth, glinting as it falls back against your skin before he speaks. “How come you never take this off, pretty?”
You look down at it, smiling to yourself, remembering that night. “Because you gave it to me.”
“If some other guy got you this, it’d just be another necklace.” You nod slowly as he scowls playfully at the mere suggestion of it—the scenario that he painted for you. “It means somethin’. That’s why your brain remembers it.”
“Semantic encoding,” you say. “I remember it by what it means, not just what it looks like.”
His big arm wraps tight around you, hugging you close, as he lets out a deep breath. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, his strong, bare chest pushing flush to yours. “Knew you could do it.”
He grabs your waist, lifting you until you're standing on top of your bed. His hands settle behind your legs, drawing you closer, peeling the panties down your skin as you look back at him.
Rafe wraps his fingers around the band of his boxer briefs, tugging them down his thighs, his cock swinging free, slapping against his tanned skin as he pushes out a breath.
He wraps his fist around his dick, stroking slowly before looking up at you. “Next one?”
His hold on the back of your thigh keeps you close, the other one working itself at a steady pace. He’s got the next vocab word memorized—held on the tip of his tongue.
His palm runs up the back of your leg, breath catching in his chest. Your hand rests on the wall above your headboard, keeping you balanced.
“Mine disappears when I’m around you,” he mumbles, dipping in to press a kiss against your thigh, lips lingering, the warmth of his breathing against your skin making your pussy throb.
“Self-control?” you whisper.
“Exactly.”
“Executive function,” you answer. “Planning, focus, and self-control.” He smiles and nods, humming out praise as he lifts your leg, foot resting on the wooden frame.
You gasp, a hand flying down to grab him, twisting in his hair as he kisses your clit. Your hips jostle, but his arms flex, forcing you to stay right where he wants you, moaning when you tug at his strands in sensitivity.
He laps at your slit like he’s starved as his hand jerks his dick, getting off on the taste and the pathetic sounds that cry past your lips with each drag and twirl of his tongue.
“Baby, fuck,” he hums into your pussy, the wet sounds of his working you over filling the room as the band in your belly tightens, your leg keeping you standing on the mattress, muscles trembling.
Your knees buckle as his lips lock down on your clit, sucking hard, making your eyes screw shut. “Rafe—Rafe, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper breathlessly, and he slaps your ass in response, drawing you as close as he can get you.
“Fuck!” You squeal when he dips his tongue in your entrance, the sensation sending you tumbling over the edge, your body fluttering around him as he works you through each wave of your orgasm, tongue-fucking you with no plans to stop until you soften completely.
Your body practically melts into his lap—his lips quickly finding yours. He grabs your hand, guiding you to his stiff cock between you, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking with you for a moment.
“How was that?” he asks softly, handing over control.
“So fucking good,” you whisper, feeling his lips curl into a smile at your words.
“Don’t peek,” he chuckles breathily against your mouth, peering away just enough to check the last three cards. “Fuck, baby. These are easy.”
“Maybe for you,” you sigh, running a line of spit down to the head of his cock, your fist moving easily through the wet, making his eyebrows tug together.
“Nah, you got this shit… Better get ‘em right,” he smiles, his eyes falling a little hazier.
“Okay,” you whisper, feeling a little more confident now.
“Next one. Studying with me is way, way better,” he mumbles as his hands rest on your hips. “And you sure as hell aren’t doin’ this.”
“Transfer-appropriate…” Your words trail away a little bit when you see his breathing getting a little quicker, your touch on his dick feeling a little too good.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, nodding to you, his jaw clenching a little tighter. “Wanna cum inside you but you gotta get it right.”
“…Processing?” you whisper, and he stops your hand, the other coming up to grip your cheeks between his fingers, kissing you deeply. “Practicing it the way I'll actually have to use it.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that?” he sighs.
“Yeah?” you ask as you rise on your knees.
“Mhmm,” he breathes, holding his dick straight, tracing it along your soaked slit as you hover over him.
Your lips fall open when he pulls you down, the thick head of his cock stretching you wide, soothing the ache. He pulls you lower, your wet pussy sliding down each stiff inch until there’s no space left between you.
He looks back at you, sitting with it for a moment, feeling the wet mess he made squeeze around him—how perfect his hands fit, gripping your curves to keep you sat.
Rafe draws in a heavy breath before he speaks. “Two more, baby.”
“Fucking finally,” you mutter, and he snickers.
“What, you’re not enjoying this?” he asks smugly, your wetness dripping down him.
“Of course I am,” you whisper.
“Remember last weekend? I got back to my place, and it was dark and quiet. And, you were too busy for me.”
“Baby…” you stop him with a laugh. “That’s a lie. I was at a retreat.”
“I'm just teasin’,” he mumbles. “All I could think about was this… and I texted you and told you. And what did you say to me?”
“…I want you so bad.”
“And?” he mumbles.
“I’m wet,” you sigh, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smirk as his cock moves inside you, just enough for you to feel it.
“And what did I say?”
“Show me,” you answer, remembering the picture you sent him seconds later.
“Of course I did,” he mumbles, and your eyes fall, your brain going a little fuzzy when he starts rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb.
“Dual coding theory,” you smile with him as his touch on you grows quicker.
Your heart rate starts to climb, that orgasm that just claimed you minutes ago still simmering.
“Elaborative rehearsal,” the last card in the stack leaves your lips without being prompted at all, the only one you didn’t discuss—the definition literally all encompassed in this moment.
Rafe’s forehead falls against yours, waiting for you to finish, just as desperate as you. “Connecting new things to what I already know—”
You gasp and squeal out his name, your body flung to your back, Rafe pinning you underneath him before you can even ask if you’re right.
Your eyes go wide, and your jaw drops as he slams into you in one hard thrust, your hands wrapping around him, nails sinking into his back.
He lets out a deep, drawn-out groan, pulling out just enough to see the wetness slicked all over his length, the thick tip of his dick making you gasp when he pushes in again.
“Yes, baby,” Rafe growls against your lips, feeling your body squeeze around him, fucking into you at a punishing pace, your pussy gripping him with each filthy stroke.
You tremble beneath him, sliding higher up the mattress with each rough snap of his hips, the headboard thumping against the wall as the bed creaks below.
The room fills with the sounds of pleasure—the wet slap of skin against yours, his name leaving your lips in a choked cry, quiet praise humming past his lips into yours.
His hand slides down to grab your hip, hard enough to leave a bruise, his other palm resting by your head, gripping the sheet.
You pull him closer, locking your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper. Your eyes roll back in your head as he hits the perfect spot inside you.
“Feels too fuckin’ good,” he mutters, his forehead falling to yours as his hips stutter.
Your walls clench around him, and he gasps against your lips, his pace quickening until your back lifts off the bed.
“Yes—yes,” you cry out, and he buries his face in your neck, teeth gritted as he cums with you, burying himself deep inside you with a strangled moan, thick ropes of his climax filling you as your name drips from his mouth in a fucked-out sigh.
He collapses on top, snuggling into you, the air around you hot and sticky. Both of you are laughing dizzily, his lips moving against yours in soft, breathless kisses.
“We’re celebrating when you ace this shit tomorrow,” he smiles against the corner of your mouth.
“Pretty confident in me, Rafe Cameron,” you whisper.
“Of course I am,” he whispers.
“What if I get an A?”
“You know you will,” he hums into a kiss, sucking off your bottom lip. “You gonna ask about another reward?”
You giggle below him, and he laughs, pushing out a satisfied sound when your nails slide down his strong back.
“Well, shit.” He lets out a soft sigh. “It’s gonna need to be pretty good, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you mumble.
He smiles against your mouth, chuckling like the plan just clicked. “Guess you’re gonna have to ace it and find out, huh?”
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