#rafe and reader

[gethimbaby]

you never let me win

bf!rafe × inexperienced!reader

warnings: 18+, male masturbation, female masturbation, making out, inexperienced reader, soft rafe.

you didn’t remember how you got here exactly — your shirt halfway off, your body grinding slow against him, mouth open and eyes hazy, like your whole plan had backfired in the best possible way.

but eventually, he stopped. just when your head was starting to spin and your body was warm all over and he could feel how close you were again. he stopped.

you blinked, dazed and breathless. “what—”

he just grinned. leaned back against the couch cushions like he hadn’t just wrecked you with nothing but two fingers and a smirk. “thought you were in charge tonight.” his voice was teasing, his eyes dark. and god, the audacity.

you swallowed hard. he was testing you. offering it back. you knew what he meant — this was your chance. your moment to prove he wasn’t the only one who could drive the other crazy.

so you pushed your hair back with shaky fingers, sat up straighter in his lap, and gave your best little eye-roll. “fine. i am.”

“mm. sure, baby.” he was way too smug for someone about to get ruined.

and so you tried. you really tried.

you kissed him again. harder this time. and moved your hips on purpose, slow and smooth. and it worked. he hissed between his teeth, his hands tightening on your waist.

you kissed down his neck, sucked a spot just under his jaw, then moved back to straddle him proper, hands trailing down his chest and your thighs trembling a little already.

“okay,” you whispered, like you were psyching yourself up. “i got this.”

he laughed but not meanly. more like he was enjoying the show. “you’re so cute when you talk shit.”

you didn’t answer. too busy fumbling at his belt now, your hands shaking, face hot. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, it’s just that your brain short-circuited every time he looked at you like that. and he was looking at you like that now.

"i mean i can help," he offered playfully, but you shook your head fast.

"n-no, i got it."

it took another ten seconds and the most awkward buckle-fight of your life, but you finally got him free. and your breath caught. he was so hard and smirking still, barely holding back a laugh at how red your face went.

you swallowed again. wrapped your hand around him, trying to be cool. "see? not that hard."

“funny,” he muttered, groaning as you moved your hand again, slower this time. “you sure you haven’t done this before?”

"shut up."

and you meant to stay in control but within minutes your breathing was shallow again, your thighs pressed tight together, your eyes watching his face more than what your hands were doing. it was so hot but so much and he was twitching in your grip and you couldn't stop staring at his lips

“getting overwhelmed?” he asked softly, eyes hazy.

“n-no.”

you were.

he grinned, then reached down. one hand closing over yours, guiding it. he didn’t take over completely. just… helped. helped you touch him better. helped you keep the rhythm. helped you drive him insane.

you whined a little when he moaned, deep and low and unfiltered, and the sound just did something to you. you bit your lip hard, squeezing around him, and his hips bucked up before he could stop it. “god,” he muttered, voice thick. “you’re gonna make me cum like this?”

“isn’t that the point?” you asked shyly, face burning. he nodded, breath hitching.

and then he leaned in. mouth at your ear now, voice smug and hot and ragged “for someone who couldn’t undo a belt five minutes ago, you’re doing so good, baby.”

you almost whined. almost. you barely made it through the next minute before he came, messy and breathless against your chest, your hand still moving until he had to gently stop you with a soft, dizzy, “okay–baby—baby.”

he breathed out hard, forehead pressed to your shoulder, chuckling lightly as you kissed his temple.

"thought i was the one supposed to be relaxing,” he muttered.

you smiled. felt warm all over. proud. flustered. dazed. and then, still blushing: “you never let me win.”

he pulled back to look at you. messy hair, flushed cheeks, smile lazy. “i let you this time.”

you rolled your eyes again but he caught your hand, kissed your knuckles, and you melted all over again.

masterlist.

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[thejadegrenade]

Help Me

Me: now i'll never find anyone in my life attractive, thanks to naughty dog for nathan drake

Uncharted 4: meet nate's brother, sam

Me: god dang it (thanks to them my standards are set really high)

Uncharted 4: oh and theres rafe

Me: im dONE

[gethimbaby]

beach house

dbf!rafe cameron × reader

summary: you only meant to grab a water. it’s late. everyone’s asleep. you're not even thinking when you slip into the kitchen wearing just his old shirt. but he’s there. and he’s looking.

warnings: dbf!rafe, age gap, soft tension, no touching, awkward!reader, reader in underwear (and a shirt🫡) , idk what else.

1 | 2 | 3

you don't mean to walk in like this. you really don't. it's past midnight. the house is dark. you think everyone's asleep — your dad, your cousins, everyone.you’re hot. flushed. the covers too heavy. you need water. so you slip out of the room in nothing but a t-shirt — his old one, actually. from who-knows-when. it’s soft and big and you’re not wearing anything under it, but that’s fine. no one’s awake.

except—

he’s there. at the kitchen table. legs spread, coffee mug in hand, half in the dark.and now you’re frozen. your bare thighs lit up by the fridge light. your breath caught in your throat. and his eyes are already on you.

he doesn’t move. just lifts the mug to his lips, slow. like he was waiting for this.

you flinch. “i—sorry. i didn’t know—”

“clearly,” he says. voice low. sleep-rough. “should’ve checked first, kid.”

you want to run. you don’t.

“i just—I needed water. i wasn’t—i didn’t think.”

his eyes drag over your legs again. “yeah,” he murmurs. “that much’s obvious.”

you shift your weight. your fingers twist in the hem of the shirt. it brushes high up your thighs when you do. he leans back. legs still spread. one brow raised. “you really shouldn’t be walking around like that when everyone’s asleep.” his voice is soft. but it lands hard.

you nod. “right.”

you don’t move toward the sink. you don’t move at all.

he watches you for another second. then — casual as hell — looks away and says, “go ahead.”

you blink. “what?”

“get your water.”

you stare. “you’re not—leaving?”

he huffs a breath. doesn’t smile. “you’re the one half-naked. not me.” your cheeks burn. your whole body burns.

you move to the sink as fast as you can without running. grab a glass. fill it. the water sounds deafening. he doesn’t say a word.you feel his eyes on your back. or maybe your legs. maybe lower. when you turn back, he’s still staring.

you clutch the glass like a weapon. your voice is paper-thin. “i should—go.”

“you should.” you wait. he sips. doesn’t stop you.

so you go.

feet quiet on the tile. shirt clinging to your thighs.

and just before you reach the hall, he says: “next time," pause. “maybe put something else on. unless you meant to wake me up.”

you don't answer. you just keep walking. and that night, in bed, you don’t fall asleep. because his shirt still smells like him. and you don’t know what he meant.

masterlist.

[gethimbaby]

don't ever doubt that again

summary: rafe picked you up from the party and you got too bold in the car. and now alone in your room, rethinking everything. texting him. overthinking. deleting. sending. again. again. and his messages come slower now. meaner. he’s not ignoring you, he’s waiting.

warnings: dbf!rafe × reader, age gap, forbidden tension, alcohol (reader is tipsy but aware), regret spiral, texting, possessive undertone, suggestive themes, no smut

you’re lying on your side, phone screen lighting your face in blue-white flashes. your room’s too hot and your skin still smells like the perfume you sprayed for him, not for anyone else just him.

you were in his lap. you were saying shit like “i’d let you touch me if you asked nice.” you were so close. and he let you walk inside like none of it mattered.

you scroll up in the chat. reread the last few texts. he hasn’t said anything in… ten minutes.

you:

i didn’t mean it like that

or maybe i did idk sorry i just talk too much

can u forget it? pls?

delivered. .

no read.

you bite your lip and stare at the blinking cursor. unsend. resend. type. delete. type again.

you:

u looked so good tonight like really good like i wanted to

never mind.

you groan into your pillow, hugging it tight to your chest. your legs are tangled in the sheet, your bare thighs warm and restless from the mess of the night : the drinks, the laugh, him gripping the steering wheel like he was seconds from crashing the car just because you said something stupid like, “do you ever wanna kiss me?”

you:

i didn’t mean to make u uncomfortable i’m such a mess sorry

finally, his name flashes on your screen.

rafe:

you done?

your breath catches.

you:

no

maybe

i wish i was

rafe:

you want me to lie to you or what

you:

no maybe idk

rafe:

you climbed in my lap and said i could touch you if i asked nice and now you’re playing sorry?

you freeze. that message alone hits your stomach like a slap.

don’t twist it up now.

you knew what you were doing.

you still do.

you:

i just wanted you to want me

i feel really stupid now like maybe i made it all up

rafe:

yeah? that why you’re shaking when you walked back in?

you feel that in your chest. deep. sharp.

you:

i was tipsy

rafe:

you were needy

you:

maybe

rafe:

you looked at me like you wanted me to take you apart and then walked away like a coward

you:

i didn’t know if you wanted me back

rafe:

i had my hands on your ass and you’re asking if i wanted you?

your thighs squeeze together under the sheets. your cheeks burn. you don’t reply. your fingers hover.

rafe:

go to sleep

you:

are you mad at me

seen.

rafe:

yeah

you:

why

rafe:

because you don’t get to do that to me and then regret it

your hands shake just a little. something in your chest twists.

you:

what if i don’t regret it what if i just wanted u to say something first

he’s typing. typing. stopped. typing.

rafe:

say what

you:

that u wanted me too

nothing. no typing now. the screen’s still. silent.

you lock your phone and throw it on the other side of the bed like it burned you. your face buries in your pillow and your legs curl up. and you say into the dark, low and breathless: “i’m so dumb.”

but your phone buzzes again. once. you scramble to grab it.

rafe:

i wanted you so bad i could barely drive

you stare.

don’t ever doubt that again.

you press the phone to your chest. you close your eyes. you’re not sure if this is better or worse, but you are so sure you’re not sleeping tonight.

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[gethimbaby]

you texted me.

summary: you can’t sleep so you text him. just his name. no reason. but then you text “nvm.” but he’s already awake. already on his way.

warnings: dbf!rafe, age gap, intense late-night tension, reader is shy & so flustered, soft possessive vibes, whispering, long stare

it’s after 2AM. your fingers are trembling. your legs curled up under the big t-shirt again. your phone screen is too bright.

you type it. just one word.

rafe.

you stare at it and then you hit send. and immediately you text

nvm.

ignore that. sorry.

you toss the phone aside like it bit you. you curl into the sheets. close your eyes. pretend you’re normal. pretend you’re not freaking out.

ten minutes pass. then you hear it. your door clicks. you sit up fast. he’s already halfway inside, hoodie slung low, one hand on the doorknob.

“you texted me,” he says.

your heart slams. “i—i didn’t mean—”

“yeah, you did.”

his voice is low. calm. like he’s not even mad. but he’s looking at you like you did something bad. like you know what you did. you scramble to pull the covers up. your shirt rides high on your thighs. you don’t meet his eyes. “i wasn’t—I didn’t know it would wake you.”

he steps inside. just a little. “you think i sleep through you saying my name?”

you blink. “i didn’t say it—i just—”

he lifts the phone in his hand. your message is still open.

rafe.

nvm.

his thumb brushes the screen. “what’d you want?” he asks.

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he tilts his head. “you sure?”

you nod. hard. he stares at you for too long. then — voice like gravel “lie better.”

you don’t answer. you can’t. you’re burning up under the covers, knees drawn, heart thudding so loud it feels like thunder. he steps forward. barefoot on the wood. quiet. slow. he stops at the edge of your bed. not touching just there.

“you ever gonna tell me?” he asks, quieter now.

you stare at your lap. “there’s nothing to say.”

“hm,” he murmurs. “that’s too bad.” you glance up. his eyes are soft now, but dangerous. “’cause i’ve got a lot to say,” he adds. “but i’m not gonna say it if you keep looking at me like you’re scared.”

you blink. your voice is barely there. “i’m not scared.”

his lip twitches. “prove it.” you don’t move and don’t breathe.

then— “i should go” he says. but he doesn’t move. you whisper, and before you can stop yourself “you don’t have to.”

he stares at you. like he might lose it right here. then he takes a step back, runs a hand through his hair. “go to sleep, kid.”

you nod. slow. breathless. he turns and walks to the door. but just before he leaves, he looks back once more. and you swear his eyes say everything you didn’t.

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[gethimbaby]

you always this quiet?

summary: your dad asks rafe to drive you into town for ice and supplies. you say yes before you can think. now you’re in his truck, passenger side, silent, sunburned, and his hand is on the wheel like he’s got nowhere to be but your mind.

warnings: dbf!rafe, age gap, loaded silences, glancing, touching that’s not touching, reader being painfully awkward, soft dominance, using of "kid"

1 | 2 | 3

you say yes without thinking. your dad asks if you’ll go into town with rafe. just to grab more ice, maybe snacks. nothing heavy. you nod. smile. say “yeah, sure,” like it’s not a problem.

but it is. god, it is.

his truck smells like salt and something warm. you buckle your seatbelt like it’ll save you. like that’ll keep you safe from the silence and his eyes and whatever happened in that kitchen last night.

he doesn’t look at you at first. just drives.

the window’s down. his forearm rests against the open door, hand loose on the wheel. his tan skin is flushed pink where the sun got him yesterday. he glances at you once. then again. “you always this quiet when it’s just me and you?”

you blink. “i’m not..i’m just..tired.”

he hums. “didn’t sleep well?”

you hesitate. “no. i guess not.”

he taps the wheel. “maybe you should stop walking around half-naked at midnight. probably messes with your dreams.”

you stare straight ahead. your face is on fire. “you said i shouldn’t.”

he grins. “i say a lot of things.”

the silence after that is loud. full. you cross your legs tighter. your hands press into your thighs. he drives with one hand. slow. like he doesn’t care how long this takes. “you look different today,” he says.

your voice is small. “how?”

“i don’t know.” his eyes flick down, quick. “sweet, i guess.”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs. “you always look sweet. just sayin’.”

you don’t know what to say. so you look out the window. and he laughs under his breath.

–

you stop at the gas station. he gets out. you stay. your hands are sweating. you wipe them on your shorts. he comes back with one bag. tosses it in the back. gets in. “you okay?” he asks.

you nod. “yeah.”

he looks at you for too long. “you sure?”

you nod again. but this time your voice shakes: “yes.”

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t start the engine. just watches you for a second too long.

then—

“look at me.” you do. stupidly. softly. he tilts his head. “you nervous around me or somethin’?”

you blink. mouth dry. “no.”

he smiles. not kind. “liar.”

your chest feels too tight.

“rafe—”

“don’t,” he says. soft. “don’t say my name like that if you don’t want trouble.”

you don’t say anything. you just stare. and he finally turns the key, starts the truck again.

—

you ride back in silence. except for the wind. and the sound of your heart in your ears. he doesn’t touch you. but when you get out of the truck and your hand brushes his by accident —

he doesn’t move away.

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[gethimbaby]

then fix it..

dbf!rafe cameron x reader

summary: they fight. she says something she doesn’t mean, and rafe pulls the truck over. what starts as tension becomes something quieter, something raw, something that leaves her aching.

warnings: 18+, emotional tension, suggestive content, tigh riding, angst, unresolved feelings, possessiveness, bratty reader behavior, hurt/comfort

word count: ~1.4k

the rain had been falling for ten minutes straight.

just the low hum of the road. the flick of the wipers. tension thick in the air—static and quiet and full of everything they hadn’t said.

she curled deeper into the passenger seat, legs tucked up, swallowed in his hoodie. the cold crept in through the seams. or maybe it just felt that way.

rafe hadn’t looked at her since she slammed the front door and climbed into his truck without a word. whatever they’d fought about—it was stupid. something sharp and mean. something she said without thinking. all she could remember was the look on his face: tight. disappointed. like she’d finally pushed him one inch too far.

his voice, when he’d raised it, wasn’t loud. not cruel. just sharp enough to leave a cut behind.

“you think this is a game?” he said. “you think i like cleaning up after your messes while you act like none of this means anything?”

she snapped back. bitter. defensive. didn’t even mean it. now she just felt messy. raw. her throat hurt from holding everything in.

her voice came out small.

“you said you’d take care of me.”

his hands tightened on the wheel. “i do.”

she stared out the window, rain blurring the world outside.

then—

“okay, doctor cameron,” she muttered. too bitter. “fix me then.”

the truck jerked as he pulled over. fast. clean. tires crunching wet gravel.

she froze.

he didn’t look at her—just leaned forward, elbows on the wheel, breathing steady. then he turned. voice low. controlled. “don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

she swallowed. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“how did you mean it?”

no answer. just a shrug. just silence so thick it felt like drowning.

he exhaled hard. unbuckled his seatbelt. “get over here.”

“what?”

“come here, baby.”

hesitation. then movement—slow, quiet, folding herself against his side.

he didn’t touch her. just looked down, eyes unreadable.

“i’d fix you if i could,” he said. “you know that, right?”

she nodded, breath caught.

“but you say shit like that ‘doctor cameron’ like you want me to break my own rules just to prove something.”

her voice cracked.

“maybe i do.” she said as if in a whisper

his fingers brushed her chin. tilted her face. “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

she nodded again. too fast.

“say it again.”

“fix me.”

he leaned in. pressed his forehead to hers. his hand slid slow, warm, down to her thigh.

her breath caught as his fingers curled just above her knee. soft. slow. almost reverent.

“rafe…”

his voice dropped lower. “you think i don’t want to touch you every time you look at me like that?

you think i haven’t had to bite my tongue every time you act like you’re not mine?”

his palm found the inside of her thigh. “you call me doctor again, and i swear to god—”

“doctor cameron,” she whispered, breathless.

he growled. low. sharp. his hand pushed up under the hoodie, over bare skin.

his fingers found her inner thighs, moving higher.

she sat sideways in his lap, knees bent, hoodie falling off one shoulder. his hoodie. his thigh was tense beneath her. solid. unmoving.

he hadn’t touched her. and that, somehow, was worse.

her fingers curled into the front of his hoodie.

“rafe…” she whispered, breath unsteady.

he tilted his head. “what?” voice low. like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

she squirmed. thighs clenching. the ache between her legs unbearable now. sharp. needy.

his hand moved to the back of her neck, warm and slow.

“you know what you want,” he said. “i’m not saying it for you.”

her cheeks burned. her whole body burned. “i want—” she started, then stopped.

his hand slid up, fingers in her hair.

“go ahead, sweetheart. be honest.”

she bit her lip. rocked forward slightly. the seam of his jeans pressed into her.

“i want to feel something,” she whispered.

he smirked.

“you’re already feeling something.”

his thigh shifted under her. firm. impossible to ignore.

“grind on it,” he said, voice like smoke. “you know you want to.”

her breath caught. he didn’t move. didn’t help. just leaned his head back and let her decide.

so she did.

slow at first. testing. hips rolling forward just enough to make her whimper.he exhaled through his nose, jaw twitching.

“that’s it,” he murmured. “use it. use my tigh.” she pressed down harder. rhythm sloppy, desperate. his hand slid to her waist, holding her still. not guiding.just anchoring. “look at you,” he whispered.

her eyes fluttered. “fuck, rafe…”

“you wanted to feel something, baby. now take it.”

she was trembling. gasping. his thigh flexed under her and she swore she could’ve cried.

he leaned in, mouth at her ear.

“you’re gonna fall apart, aren’t you?” she nodded. too fast. too much. “say it.”

“i’m—i’m gonna come.”

“on my thigh?”

“yes.”

“then be a good girl and make it count.”

her whole body seized up. thighs clenching. eyes squeezed shut. every breath a quiet, broken plea.

and then it hit her. slow. deep. wrecking.

she buried her face in his shoulder. he didn’t laugh. didn’t tease. he just held her. hand stroking her spine. voice soft in her hair.

“that’s it, baby. i’ve got you. you did so good.”

she stayed in his lap, shaking. breathless.

he kissed the side of her head.

“next time,” he whispered, “you ask me nicely. not like some brat who thinks she can take what she wants.”

she shivered. and he smiled. because he knew there’d be a next time.

masterlist.

[gethimbaby]

what, no show tonight?

dbf!rafe cameron × reader

summary: it’s the next night. you wore shorts this time but he’s still undressing you with his eyes.

warnings: dbf!rafe, age gap, thick forbidden tension, reader is awkward, teasing, rafe being cocky and still too calm.

1 | 2 | 3

you think if you walk slower, you’ll feel more normal. you don’t.

it’s nearly 1AM. the beach house is still. your heart’s racing for no reason. your mouth is dry again. you came for water. again. but this time—you wore shorts. just sleep shorts, soft and light and not much, but still. not nothing. not that shirt and bare thighs and his eyes like hands on your skin.

you hesitate at the kitchen door. he’s there. again. same place. same posture. mug in his hand, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. a faint glow from the stovetop light. and he’s already looking at you.

you stop in the doorway.

he blinks once. then: “what,” he murmurs, slow and lazy, “no show tonight?”

your cheeks flame. “i didn’t mean to—”

he chuckles. “relax.”

you shift your weight. your thighs press together. he’s still watching you like you’re some kind of joke he enjoys too much. he says. “last night you were practically glowing.”

“i wasn’t—i didn’t know you were—”

“sure you didn’t.” sip. pause. smirk. “that’s what made it fun.”

you step into the kitchen. too fast. “i just want water,” you mutter.

“yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “i remember.”

you grab a glass from the shelf. your fingers shake a little. he’s quiet. but the quiet is worse. you can feel him looking. you can feel his stare dragging over your shoulders, your back, your waist. like he’s retracing where that shirt used to hit. finally—glass full, throat dry—you turn around. try to act normal.

he nods at you. “cute shorts.”

you blink. “what?”

“just sayin’.” his voice is deeper now. low. heavy. “you didn’t have to dress up for me.”

your breath catches. “i didn’t.”

he smiles. slow. mean. “sure.” you stare at him. he doesn’t look away.

and then,barely a whisper,he adds, “but i liked last night better.”

you freeze.

his eyes drop to your legs. his jaw tics. then he stands. you step back automatically, bumping the counter. “easy,” he says, raising one brow. “i’m not gonna bite.” he brushes past you. barely touches your arm. doesn’t say goodnight. and when he’s halfway down the hallway, he says it,quiet, like a sin: “sleep good, kid.”

you don’t. you don’t sleep at all.

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