✧ ˚ · . different scenarios where bf!rafe helps you...breathe
Cw: smut, smoking, praise, sweet!rafe, pet names, mating press, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering
"deep breaths, baby girl," rafe mumbles against your lips as he sinks into you, stretching you inch by inch. he knows he’s big, knows how you struggle to take him, so he does his best to ease you into it—slow and steady, even when his body aches to bury himself completely.
your arms tighten around his shoulders, fingers pressing into hard muscle as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—clean soap and something inherently him. his hands grip the underside of your thighs, spreading you open, keeping you impossibly close.
he feels the sharp hitch in your breath when he finally bottoms out, the way your walls flutter around him, and he soothes you with a quiet, "i know, honey, i know."
his hips move in slow, careful rolls, giving you time to adjust, despite the countless times together. he drags himself in and out at a pace that makes your whole body burn, but when your whimpers turn to soft, needy moans, when your hips start moving to meet his, he lets go of his restraint.
your legs are hooked over his shoulders now, folding you in half as he drives deeper, his name tumbling from your lips between gasps and moans. his pace is relentless, the sharp slap of skin filling the air, but the sound is nothing compared to the noises you make for him—the broken little whimpers that send him spiraling.
your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake. your head falls back against the silk sheets, eyes glassy, mouth parted as he buries himself deep, hitting that spot that makes your stomach tense, your release creeping closer with every snap of his hips.
"there’s pretty," he chuckles, that same wicked smirk being the last thing you see before your eyes glaze over with pleasurable tears.
"deep breaths, sweetheart," rafe whispers to you again, but this time, it’s when you’re curled up in his lap, a joint balanced between his fingers.
you’re on the couch in your apartment, the room hazy with smoke. he holds the joint to your lips, watching intently as you take a slow drag.
"good. now, inhale—goood," he murmurs, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as you tilt your head back, exhaling toward the ceiling.
his free hand drifts along your side, fingers trailing the soft expanse of your bare skin—your shirt long discarded, forgotten somewhere on the floor, as well as his.
you take another hit before leaning in, your body pressing flush against his as you pull the joint from your lips. a teasing glint flickers in your eyes as you exhale into his mouth, watching the way his gaze darkens with something unspoken.
"how you feelin’, pretty?" he asks, his voice low, thick with amusement as he takes a hit himself.
"pretty feels good," you giggle, the words airy and light. it’s corny, you know that, but you don’t care. with him, there’s no room for judgment, no space for anything but comfort.
"how ‘bout you, handsome?"
he hums, pretending to think. "well, i have my girlfriend in my lap, smoking my joint with me, and i can’t seem to take my eyes off her."
then, he’s kissing you—slow, deep, and lingering, like he has nowhere else to be, nothing else he’d rather be doing. you kiss back until you’re breathless until your head feels lighter than the smoke curling around you. when you finally pull away, panting, you let your forehead rest against his.
"deep breaths—just like that, you got it," rafe whispers, dragging his lips along the inside of your thigh, the words muffled against your skin.
you’re sprawled across his bed, legs spread open for him, your breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. he’s taking his time, moving with that cocky, controlled patience that drives you insane.
his hands grip your hips firmly, thumbs pressing into your hip bones, keeping you in place even as your body instinctively tries to shift, to chase his mouth.
he chuckles at your impatience, his breath hot against your thigh. "so needy, huh?" his teeth graze the delicate skin there before he presses an open-mouthed kiss just below the edge of your underwear, barely where you want him.
you whimper, your hands clenching in the sheets.
he glances up at you, his blue eyes dark, burning. he watches the way your chest rises and falls, the way your fingers tighten around the fabric beneath you, the way your thighs tremble in his grip.
"breathe for me, baby," he says, voice smooth, coaxing. his fingers press slow, teasing circles into your skin as he holds you open for him, his lips trailing higher—so close but not close enough. "i’m not done with you yet."
your breath shudders, your body coiled tight with anticipation, and just when you think you might beg—when the need is nearly unbearable—he finally gives in. his mouth presses against you exactly where you need him, the first brush of his tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.
the air rushes from your lungs in a sharp gasp, your fingers dragging to his buzzed hair. you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s completely lost in you, devouring you like he’s starving, like he needs this just as much as you do.
he flattens his tongue against your clit, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the way you tremble beneath him. his hands grip your thighs, keeping them spread wide, keeping you completely at his mercy. he knows you—knows every gasp, every whimper, every tiny movement of your hips.
then, two of his long fingers slide into you, stretching you open, curling just right as they move in sync with his mouth. the pleasure is dizzying and overwhelming, and your back arches off the bed, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pull him closer, needing more.
"rafe—" his name falls from your lips in a breathless gasp, followed by a needy moan as heat coils deep in your belly, tightening with every precise flick of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers.
he groans into you, the vibrations making your legs shake, his pace quickening just the way he knows you like it. "that’s it, baby," he murmurs between kisses against your sensitive skin, his voice thick, almost reverent. "lemme hear you."
and you do. you whimper, and moan, your breath coming in short, desperate pants as your body hurtles closer and closer to the edge. the pressure builds, impossibly tight, the pleasure white-hot as he pushes you further, refusing to let up, refusing to stop until you’re completely undone beneath him.
"breathe, princess," he rasps, his fingers pressing deeper, his tongue moving faster. "i wanna feel you fall apart for me."