Angel

All of which seemed to fall unnoticed. That is until you nuzzled closer to his ear, leaving wet kisses down his jawline, whispering a shy “need you, daddy,” into his ear.

His grip around your waist tightened. “We uhhh… we’ll be right back, man” he told his customer, who was already high off of his mind and pissed off as is. You shot up off of his lap, blushing as you eagerly tugged his hand away with you.

Leaving the laughs and whoops of his friends, he focused on getting you somewhere private - his bedroom, which was just a few doors down.

Unlocking the bedroom door (which you made him start locking because you were oh-so-worried about somebody from the party coming into his room and stealing your clothes), he pushed you in, following closely behind you.

You laid back on the bed, ready for whatever amount of rounds he could give you.

“Get those panties off, baby, we gotta make this quick,” he groaned, kissing down your neck.

“Quick?” you whined in protest, still obeying nonetheless.

“Mhmmm,” he helped you tug the flimsy lace down, spreading your legs open to him, “gotta get back to selling.”

Your brows furrowed, but he was quick to shut you up, sticking his fingers down your throat to wet them, letting you gag on them.

The second he removed them, you were back to yapping: “Need you so bad, Rafe, please just needed to…”

He shut you up again, stuffing two thick fingers into your wetness, loving the sounds you made.

“Just needed to distract me from making us money? Huh? All cause you’re just greedy for me?”, he degraded, only making you clench harder around his fingers.

Moving his thumb to your clit, he rubbed gentle circles, loving the way your body twitched in response.

“Rafe… Rafeeee,” you repeated over and over like it was the only word you knew.

“Tell ‘em, baby. Who’s makin' you feel this good, huh?”, he egged you on, thrusting his fingers harder and kissing down your neckline.

“Rafe!”, you squealed at how hard he went, legs attempting to squeeze shut but stopped by his broad frame that laid on top of you.

“Mhmmm,” he smirked, “let ‘em know,” throwing your legs over his shoulder to taste you.

He alternated between humming and sucking on your clit, all while he remained thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You were a mess: body twitching, legs shaking while you repeated his name as if it were a prayer.

You knew what he was doing: R A F E, he spelled out into you, his tongue swiping each letter as if he were writing on your clit. His blue eyes were trained on yours, hazy, enjoying the taste of you, how lost you became under him.

You finished with a shout of his name, your legs locking around his head, him never giving up, continuing to lick and suck, just “cleaning up” as he told you.

Once your breathing was somewhat regular, he quickly pulled your panties back up, your skirt back into place, and your top back on.

“Nooooo,” you protested, tugging on his arm. “Don’t go, Rafe.”

“I gotta work, baby,” he frowned. He’d love to stay here with you, go round after round, but someone had to bring in the cash.

“Rafe, I know you don’t want to go…” you smirked, palming him through his trousers, his dick rock hard.

He groaned at the feeling but pushed your hand away. “I gave you what you wanted, okay? Don’t be complaining to me. Someone’s gotta fund your shopping addiction,” he grinned, giving you one last sloppy kiss on the lips before he left, closing the door behind him.

You laid on the California king for a bit before you made your way into the shower to wash away the desire. Slipping a fresh pair of panties and one of Rafe’s T-shirts on, you brushed the knots out of your hair.

“Rafeeee,” you hummed when you saw him enter the bathroom in the mirror's reflection, his shirt off as he prepared to get in the shower.

“You’re gonna wear it out.”

Your brows furrowed, looking down at the t-shirt you wore, “I’m not going out?”

“No,” he laughed, “my name, you’re gonna wear it out.”

Your brows stayed in a furrow until he explained again: “Rafeeeee, oh Rafeeee. Right there Rafeee,” he mocked, mimicking your facial expressions and breath pattern the best he could.

“Oh shut up. You’re acting like you don’t make noise in bed.”

“Oh I make noise… you’re just so loud when you yell my name nobody can even hear my noises.”

You rolled your eyes at him, pushing his arms that tried to wrap around your waist away. “I’m not loud.”

He smirked, “Really, you’re not? So why is it that the guys were all just out there asking me how to get their girls to scream like mine does?”

Your face flushed red in response, pushing his chest away as he tried to kiss you.

“Awww c’mon it’s cute - I like that you’re loud it means I’m doing a good job”, he attempted to comfort you but failed as you walked away, going to bed.

“I’m not loud,” you complained, hearing his “whatever you say sweetheart” from the bathroom.

The next morning, you woke up to Rafe’s arms pulling you flush against him - his hands on your hips, his crotch grinding up onto you.

“Babyyyy,” he groaned, leaving kisses down your back.

You hummed in response: you’d give him what he wanted but at a price.

Laying flat on your stomach, you arched your back up to him, letting him drift his fingers over your core.

“So pretty,” he complimented, assuming your silence was due to you not being fully awake yet.

Once you were wet enough, he pushed your panties to the side and slid in, groaning at the tightness.

He stayed still for a moment, flipping up the back of your shirt to leave wet kisses up your back to your ears, whispering “You okay?”

You hummed in response, dropping your head back down to the mattress, thinking about everything that doesn’t turn you on: death, your parents, war, an ugly pair of shoes.

His brows furrowed in both confusion and worry. He wet a finger in his mouth and placed it against your clit, that’ll do it, he thought. But it changed nothing, you were still there, lifeless, silent, just accepting what he gave you. You seemed bored, almost.

He winced at your tightness, staying inside you as he pulled your head up against his shoulder: “You feelin' alright, baby?”. He felt your forehead, checked your pulse - this wasn’t like you to be so… silent.

Silence. That’s what it was. You were being silent.

Running his tongue past his teeth, he spoke, “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hmmmm?”, you hummed in fake confusion.

He started moving again, with slow, deep strokes, making sure you could feel every vein, feel his tip hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. “Givin’ me the silent treatment.”

“M’not,” you shakily breathed out, trying your best to hold your composure, though it was hard to ignore how deep he was inside of you. “You’re just not doing it right.”

He chuckled, “Oh I’m not doing it right?”

You shook your head, “Nope, but hey, as long as you’re having fun.”

“Oh shut up,” he groaned, flipping you over, lifting your legs. He positioned you into a mating press, going slow enough to make sure you felt his dick hit the deepest spots in you.

You pursed your lips, keeping up the fight despite it nearly killing you. He felt so good, his dick never hitting this deep in you before.

It just felt wrong: his pants and the thwap thwap sounds of your pussy suctioning around his length, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust, all without the noise or your heavy breathing and whines for him.

“I get the message now. I’m an ass, I shouldn’t have teased you,” he apologized.

You persisted, biting your lip at how good he was making you feel. He nodded at you, give in, but you shook your head defiantly, despite it hurting how much you were holding back.

He sighed, you were too stubborn for your own good.

Adding his thumb to your clit, he smirked, continuing to slowly thrust his cock in and out of you, your pussy squelching: thwap, thwap, thwap.

“You may be trying to lie, but I know how you feel. Your pussy tells the truth: she’s squeezing me so tight, doesn’t want me to ever leave.”

You kept up the act, separating the feeling from your facial expressions the best you could.

He frowned at you - it felt wrong to be fucking you when you were acting like this, acting like you didn’t want it: “What do ya want, baby? Hmmm?”

You stared at him, pouting with those lips he wanted to kiss forever.

“You can tell me… acts up. You want new shoes? A dress?”, you remained lifeless at his list of things, “C’mon you know I’ll give you anything you want, just say it and it’s done.”

He froze, about to give up, pull out, and jerk off alone in the cold shower until he heard you let out a breathy word: “A baby”

His eyes glossed over, “a baby?”, to which you eagerly nodded.

“It’s a baby you want?”, he repeated, his southern accent slipping out a bit.

“Please, Rafe, it’s all I want…”, you pulled him closer to you, his dick still deep inside of you.

“I’m gonna give you want you want… okay?”, he cooed, beginning to thrust in and out of you again, his cock harder than before at the moans you were finally releasing.

His mouth opened, matching the sounds you were making.

“Never do that shit again, baby, scared me to death.”

You moaned his name particularly loudly when he hit extra deep, his hands pushing your legs as far back as they could go.

“You want me to breed you, huh baby? Fill you up? Give you a little Cameron baby?”, he fantasized, his hand possessively holding your stomach, feeling how deep he was.

“Wanna be a mommy,” you pleaded, holding onto his thick biceps as he slammed in and out of you, desperate to fill you up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned at your words. There was nothing hotter than the image of you swollen with his seed.

You were close behind him, whimpering his name over and over again.

Feeling you clench so tightly around him, like your pussy was begging him to never leave, the two of you finished, your pussy milking everything out of him.

He didn’t give up once you both came, still thrusting slowly in and out of you.

“Rafe,” you breathily whimpered, “S’too sensitive.”

He grinned, “I’m makin’ sure you take every last drop.”

You laughed at him, “We can try multiple times, Rafe. It’s not a one-and-done thing, y’know?”

He ignored your statement, your whimpers, and whines of sensitivity, and continued his small thrusts, lost staring at the milky white ring of arousal you left at the base of his cock.

oh hiiiii, long time no see! random anon response cause I missed writing - life update: a lot has changed, so much that I don’t know where to start. hope to be writing again soon. love you and thank you for the support while I was gone 🌷| masterlist

“Look how tiny you were, awwww!”, you held it up to him, his chest now too broad and shoulders too big to fit into it. “You never told me you played high school basketball.”

He huffed, “How’d that get here?”

You shook your head, “Ward or Rose, probably. We gotta buy it back though.”

“Why?”

“You want anyone other than me wearing your jersey?”

His jaw clenched at the thought. “C’mon, I’ll find something to do with it so it’s not sitting in your basement - I’ll make it worth your money.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A couple of weeks later, when you were sure Rafe had forgotten about the purchase, you decided it was time to show him the final project.

You pulled the white shorts on to match your thin white baby tee and knee high socks, and took out your hair rollers, adding lip gloss and a spritz of perfume to complete the look.

Rafe sat in front of the TV, watching some golf tournament, until you strut before him, “Do you like my outfit?”

“Yeah, I always do baby,” he complimented, though he was clearly confused at the plain white shirt, mini shorts, and high socks combo.

He was confused until you turned around, showing him the “CAMERON” letters you cut from the jersey and stitched onto the shorts.

His jaw dropped, and a flush went over his cheeks.

“Do you like them?”, you asked smiling at his reaction.

“Oh my god, baby. You’ve gotta wear those out,” he stared. “Turn around again,” he commanded.

And you, of course, listened, spinning to show him once again.

“Aren’t they cool?”, you grinned, proud of yourself for the project.

He chased your glossy lips for a kiss, “You look so hot with my name on your ass.”

“Too bad it’s not my legal last name…”, you teased, making him bite his cheek.

“Soon… but for now I want you to sit on my lap and face that way,” he pointed at the TV, “I wanna admire the stitching.”

“Mhmmm - the stitching,” you smirked, still following his directions.

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“Didn’t know she took golf so seriously, I thought you said that she sucked at it?”, Topper joked, still snickering at the situation.

“Shut up,” Rafe yelled, pushing Topper away and making his way toward you.

The closer he got, the angrier he grew: you were genuinely smiling and laughing - your swing was even better than it was before.

When on one swing, you hit it especially far, you jumped up and down, clearly excited.

You went for another swing, but just as the club came up, Rafe grabbed it, stopping you from swinging and ripping the club from your grip.

“Rafe!“, you yelled, pulling your big sunglasses off to look at him.

“Hey bud… next time you go around flirting with other guys' girlfriends, especially mine, you might wanna make sure their boyfriends aren’t here to see it.”

“Sir- I wasn’t-”

Rafe held him by the collar of his polo, “You really want to be lying to me, uh,” he paused, eying his name tag, “Jack?”

“Rafe! Stop, seriously,” you pleaded.

“Sir, I really would never-”, Jack pleaded, cut off by the harsh punch Rafe landed on his face.

“Jack,” he still held him by the collar, “here’s one thing y’gotta know about me. I’m- I’m a proactive type of person, alright?”

Jack fearfully looked to you for help, but that only made Rafe angrier.

“What, you need fuckin grammatical help from her? Ya don’t know what proactive fuckin means?” he groaned, “gotta teach everything to you pogues.”

“It means,” he gripped Jack’s collar tighter, “that before you make a move on my girlfriend, that I stop you before you get to do it.”

“I didn’t make a move on her man,” Jack choked out.

Rafe only responded with another punch to Jack’s face, knocking him onto the ground.

Jack writhed, complaining of the pain.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”, you pushed at Rafe’s chest.

“Rafe, you really hurt him!”, you bent down to inspect the gash Rafe’s ring made near Jack’s eyebrow before he could drag you away.

“You’re hurting my arm, Rafe,” you whined as he pulled you along with him.

“Then walk faster,” he replied.

You let him take you to the parking lot but refused to get in the car with him.

“Would you just get in the car? I’m so sick of the dramatics with you!”, he yelled.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

“How would you feel if I was all over some girl? Especially at a place like this - you know how bad that makes me look?”

“You just publicly knocked a guy out and you’re blaming me for making you look bad? You’re acting like he had me on all fours out there - he was teaching me golf!”

He paused, trying his best to not lose it on you. “Would you please, baby, just get in the car? I’ll get you a coffee or whatever and we’ll… we’ll figure it out, alright?”

“No. I don’t have anything to figure out. I’m calling an Uber.”

He opened his mouth to plead more but was immediately shut up by the stern look on your face. You walked away, busying yourself by texting your friends about the situation until your Uber arrived.

Do you want me to follow your Uber home to make sure you’re safe?

I’m really sorry sweetheart

You ignored his texts for a bit, deciding you were gonna ignore him. At least until tonight. He needed time to think.

I’m following your Uber home so don’t be scared of the driver

“So dramatic…”, you audibly sighed.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“So he just punched the instructor just because he was teaching you golf?”

You nodded in response as you stepped into the party, the immediate smell of liquor and weed overwhelming your nose.

“That’s a little excessive,” your friend, Christa, responded.

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, making your way over to the drinks, where Topper, who was hosting the party, stood, flirting with some blonde girl.

“Ah the princess is here!!”, Topper slurred, a little wasted.

“We gotta get you some water, huh?”, you laughed, grabbing a white claw.

“Look,” you felt his hot breath on your neck, “Rafe feels bad, don’t be mad at him. Kelce and I were the ones who pointed it out to him, we didn’t think that it’d end up that bad.”

You shook your head, “Keep your nose out of our business, Top.”

He blinked, “jus’tryna help.”

Christa pulled you away for a song, and you two busied yourselves dancing for a bit. The person in charge of the AUX changed, and you and Christa grumbled, taking a break out on the deck.

Rafe, of course, was settled there in the corner, surrounded by a group of guys. You gave him a shy smile - yes, you were still mad at him, but you at least wanted to be cordial.

He blushed back, quickly getting up and making his way towards you, “Can we talk?”

You hummed and took his hand to pull him somewhere more private. He followed you upstairs, to the room furthest from the stairway, even stepping out onto the balcony so that neither of you would be interrupted.

You sat down, and he uncomfortably sat beside you - he was used to you sitting on his lap, in all honesty.

You looked down at your palms, suddenly nervous, but began nonetheless.

“The whole reason I was trying to learn golf was so that I could be with you doing something that I know you love. I don’t know… I figured it would be fun, you teaching me how to play.”

You looked up, and he nodded at you to continue. “So I went golfing with you. I was so excited - I picked out this really cute outfit with this juicy couture skirt and, and you just, shut me down.”

“I was really trying to learn, Rafe. I don’t do sports like that. I can do like… tennis and Pilates, but I’ve never done golf. And you laughed at me. And when I got upset, you didn’t apologize, you just laughed a little more and tried to bribe me with a drink.”

“I figured you didn’t want to hang out unless I was good at what I was doing. So I booked golf lessons. That was my second session, and I genuinely saw progress and was so excited to finally be able to play with you and show you how good I got. And instead, you just walked over and beat up the guy.”

“He was all over you,” he tried to reason.

You rolled your eyes, “do you not get it? I was trying to learn something for you because I love you and I want to have fun doing the things you love to do with you. The whole reason I did any of that was for you. The whole time that guy was teaching me all I was thinking was why couldn’t you teach me? And you probably could’ve, but instead, you chose to be jealous and mean.”

He stared at the beer in his hands, ashamed.

“I’m, I’m real sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know any of that.”

“And then I got pissed that we were even fighting over something this stupid. And that some guy had to get knocked out because of it.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, listening to the buzz of the party below you.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at you, and I shouldn’t have beat up that kid and I shouldn’t have grabbed your hand so hard pulling you away.”

You snuggled closer to him, his big arms wrapping around you and pulling you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry I always screw up…” he admitted.

“We all screw up,” you reasoned, “just not to the degree that you do.”

He put his head down, “I’m teasing you!!”

“No, you’re right,” he held onto you tighter, “I’m just lucky to have someone as forgiving as you.”

“You know what else you’re lucky to have?”

“What?”

“A girlfriend who still has a lot more to learn golf-wise and a ton of new outfits to wear golfing with you.”

He chuckled, pulling you in by your chin to kiss you. “Missed you,” he confessed against your lips.

“It’s been like… 5 hours,” you said in between kisses.

“5 long hours,” he corrected.

“You know what else is long and can go for 5 hours?”

He broke out in a laugh, “I just apologized for being a dick two seconds ago and you’re already horny?”

“I’ve been since I saw you beat up Jack at the driving range.”

“Me beating a guy up gets you all riled up?”, he teased, squeezing your ass.

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, kissing him and letting him carry you into the bedroom. You paused, pushing his chest back, “Y’know what else you’re lucky to have?”

“Hmmm?”, he kissed along your neck, waiting for your response.

“A girlfriend who gets turned on by everything you do.”

“Amen to that.”

“That was so hot when you followed me in the Uber”, you admitted, only because you were tipsy and missed him too.

He laughed against your chest, “I love you so much.”

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thanks for reading! send in requests 🌷 love you all

Your nightly FaceTime calls with him were the only time you had dedicated to him every day, and even that fell short, one of you (most often Rafe) falling asleep on call, mid-conversation.

To say you were excited for him to come back home to you was an understatement.

You prepared the days leading up to it, making sure the house was spotless, the chandeliers gleaming, and you looking perfect as well.

A fresh set of acrylics, a new dress and lingerie set, kitten heels, and your hair blown out were just the minor things you did to prepare for his homecoming.

Finishing the dinner you cooked for him and putting his favorite brand of whiskey on ice, you lit the candles on the table and admired the fresh flowers you picked from the garden this morning.

Hearing his car pull into the driveway, you beamed with excitement: he was finally home.

You prepared his plate, busying yourself while he slowly made his way into the house.

Hearing his footsteps on the freshly polished floor, you quit the “busy” act, unable to contain your excitement, rushing to him.

Meeting his eyes for the first time, you felt your lids flood with tears, “Rafe.”

He smiled at you, that cute, boyish smile you missed, and pushed you, making you fall into his strong arms.

You sniffled, head resting on his chest. He smelled from his cologne, your favorite smell in the world. Brushing his hand down your soft hair, he kissed your forehead.

“I missed ya, kid.”

You pushed back, pressing your lips to his, kissing him sweetly. He pushed an arm around your waist, tugging at the new fabric, “this new?”

You hummed, too lost in his embrace to respond.

“I like it, s’real cute,” he smirked at you, pulling away to get a good look at you. “Do a spin f’me.”

You obeyed, letting his hand lead you in a slow spin, as his eyes lingered everywhere, from your eyes to your soft hair, your necklace, your tits that were pushed up from the new dress you bought yourself, your plump ass, and your smooth skin.

Holding onto your waist, he let your hands wander, nails scratching everywhere they went.

Gripping onto his arms, you trailed your nails down the skin, admiring the muscle.

“You been working out?”, you asked.

“How else am I gonna make sure you’re still into me- know you’ve always loved my arms.”

“I’ll always be into you. You don’t have to worry about that,” you smiled.

“That right?”

You hummed as you turned back to the dinner table, all set for the two of you. He followed close behind, hands grabbing at your waist and pressing kisses to your neck. He quickly got carried away, lost in your perfume and how soft your skin was.

“Rafe… c’mon let’s eat I made all this food for you.”

He sat down at the table, pouring himself a glass and tapping your ass as you walked around to your seat.

“So how was Barbados?”, you asked, cutting into your steak and potatoes.

“Good,” he sighed, stuffing his mouth full of food, “was boring without you.”

“Yeah?”, you smiled sweetly, sipping on your wine and watching him eat.

“Baby you’d love it there - I’ll have to take you next time. The beaches are so nice, and the new property I checked out down there is great.”

You hummed, listening to him ramble on and on about his trip, and all of the boring business things he partook in.

You’d be lying if you said you were paying full attention to him - you haven’t since the second he walked in.

Running your fresh acrylics through his hair, you grinned at the groans he let out.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he admitted, roughly pulling your chair closer to his.

Laying his head in your hands, he closed his eyes, encouraging you to keep scratching his head.

You moved over to his lap, straddled him, and guided his head in the crook of your shoulder to keep scratching him.

In between his groans of pleasure, he left kisses along your neck, traveling his lips lower and lower down your chest.

Moving one hand to your ass, the other to your hip, he moved you against his crotch, smirking at the staggered breaths you let out.

Pushing your dress away so the crotch of your panties hit directly on his bulge, he teased when he felt the wet spot, “You missed me, huh?”

“So much, Rafe”, you whispered, your wine-stained lips chasing his.

He was too impatient to wait any longer, moving off the chair and throwing you over his shoulder.

Downing the rest of his whiskey, he slammed the glass on the table and began the walk to your bedroom. As he walked, he palmed your ass cheeks, occasionally slapping at it, laughing at how you squirmed and kicked your feet.

You were giddy from the wine, so by the time he got you to your room, you were a giggling mess.

He smiled at your laugh, but couldn’t hold back, kissing down your body to your panties, pushing them to the side momentarily.

He slipped his long fingers inside you, listening to the squelch.

“Rafe,” you whined.

“You’re a fuckin’ mess, baby.”

“Missed you so much,” you shakily reached for his hand, wanting him to go faster.

“You missed me, huh?”, he quickened.

“Y-yeah?”

“Y’wanna do something for me then?”

You nodded, doe eyes glossed over.

“Show me how you took care of yourself when I was gone, then,” he pulled away, leaving you a wet whiny mess.

“Rafe I want you to-“

“No - make yourself cum once, and then I’ll take care of you.”

You groaned, just wanting him, any part of him, inside of you.

“Show me how well you took care of that pretty pussy for me,” he patted your thigh, urging you to go.

You slowly moved your hands down to your underwear, removing it before waiting for his nod to continue.

Slipping two fingers into yourself, you moaned at the sight of him sitting before you, completely entranced.

Rubbing slow circles on your clit, you eyed him - his tan made him look like a Greek god. His shoulders got bigger, his abs more defined, and his freckles returned to his sun-kissed skin.

“Mhmmm, keep going,” he instructed when your pace slowed. “The faster you finish the faster you’ll have me.”

You were so worked up, three weeks without him, that the simple thought of having him inside of you was enough to push you over, your legs lightly shaking with your release. As you came down, he unclipped your bra with ease.

He was quick to replace your fingers with his thick ones, curling them up into you to hit that spongy spot.

You closed your legs around his big arms that held you, overwhelmed at the sense.

“Wan’ you, Rafe. Wanna come around you,” you pleaded.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t ya,” he teased before shrugging his shorts and boxers off. Your hands immediately went to his cock, hand still wet from your cum, to jerk him off, wanting him in you as soon as possible.

He caught onto your desperation, feeling the same, and thrusted into you the second he got your hand off of him.

“Fuck-k baby,” he groaned. “You keep this shit tight for me, huh?”

Your mouth stayed open, unable to make any noise.

Your constant clenching around him drove him crazy, “3 weeks of no sex and you can barely handle this cock, we got some work to do, huh sweetheart?”, he laughed.

“So- so big,” you managed to mutter.

“Yeah?”

“Missed it s’much,” you babbled, head contorting at the quick and hard thrusts he gave you.

He loved you like this most - when he turned you into nothing but a babbling mess, drunk on him, desperate for anything he’d give you.

He missed it.

“God,” he growled, “I don’t know how I left you for so long. Can’t do it again, can’t…”

You nonverbally agreed, pressing your nails into his biceps, hoping he’d never leave you for so long again.

“Please, please, please,” you begged. For what, you weren’t quite sure. But he knew you too well - better than you knew yourself.

Please don’t ever leave again.

Please don’t ever stop.

Please keep going.

Please make this last forever.

Rafe knew in the way you held onto him like he was slipping away, stared at him like you’d never see him again, and cried as if he were already gone, and that he’d never be able to leave you again. No, you’d have to come with him next time. You needed him, you made that clear in your desperation for him.

“I’m here, I’ve gotcha. M’not leaving again,” he cooed, holding onto you tighter as he brought the two of you to your finish.

The two of you held each other tight as you both finished, breathing heavily.

Brushing your hair from your face, he admitted, “Missed you too.”

You stayed silent, brushing his temple with the side of your thumb.

“I want you to come with me on the next business trip - you might be alone for a few hours during the day, but I don’t want to be apart from you for as long as we were.”

“You don’t have to do that Rafe-”

“I want to. You need me, and I need you too.”

You smiled sweetly, kissing his lips, tasting his familiar whiskey taste.

“Plus, the house I was checking out has a private beach. Figured you could finally get an even tan,” he smirked.

“Should I return those bikini tops I just ordered?”, you joked.

“Return the whole set. It’s a completely nude beach for you - those are the rules.”

It was no secret that JJ was one horny motherfucker - so more than 3 days of no sex was a lot for you, not to mention the current 2 week period you’ve abstained from.

He was practically begging for you at this point, though you could delay his pleas for your pussy by using your mouth instead.

It worked, but it was nothing like being in you, feeling your wet warmth squeeze around him, hearing your whines of his name fall past your lips.

So when, amid a heavy make-out session with you, you pushed his hand away from the buttons of your denim shorts, and he finally broke.

“Are you fucking somebody else?”, he scoffed, clearly hurt that you weren’t begging for his touch the way you used to.

“What?”

“It’s been two fucking weeks since you let me touch you,” he complained.

“JJ I didn’t-”

“Who is he?”, he asked, jaw clenching, not caring about volume despite the lack of privacy on the Chateau couch the two of you sat on.

“JJ I’m not cheating on you!”, you giggled.

He fidgeted with the belt loop of your shorts, avoiding your eyes as he spoke, “Just be honest with me - you’re fuckin’ torturing me leading me on like this sweetheart.”

You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact with you.

“JJ, I am not cheating on you”, you smirked, taking a deep breath, “the reason I haven’t had sex with you in a while is that-”

“You’re pregnant!”, he shouted, genuinely convinced.

You pushed at his chest, “Would you shut up, JJ? Let me finish!”

“Oh I’ll let you finish if you just let me get in there…”, he growled, pulling your hips closer to his, holding onto your heel to stop you from escaping.

You giggled, “Oh my god, let me finish, seriously!”

He smirked again, about to talk only to be silenced by your palm over his mouth.

You stared at his glossy blue eyes for a moment, lost in them. Something about these two weeks of no sex made you that much more needy for him, the entire essence of him seeming to turn you on.

"Okay," you gulped nervously, “don’t freak out, okay?”

He looked you up and down, eyes lingering at your chest, only covered by your white lace bra, nervous as to what you were about to tell him and equally turned on.

“I did something really stupid,” you slowly removed your hand from his mouth.

He opened his mouth, only to be silenced by you again.

“Don’t talk.”

He got comfortable, resting his arms on the back of the couch as you stared out the living room window of the chateau, watching the way the moon glimmered off of the water.

You sighed, suddenly anxious. “The reason I didn’t let you touch me, y’know… there,” you awkwardly said fiddling open the button of your shorts, “was because,” you shrugged the shorts off, “I got this.”

You moved into the moonlight so he could see your tattoo in full light: enjoy it.

He stared at the tattoo just beside where your white lacey underwear ended, mouth agape.

You bit your lip anxiously, “do you not like it?”

He didn’t respond, he just licked his lips.

His silence only worsened your anxiety, making you ramble. “I’m sorry, JJ. I should’ve told you before I got it. It was a stupid decision I was drunk and-”

He ignored your chatter, pulling you closer, kissing your lips with hunger. His lips left wet kisses down your body, eventually laying you down on the beat-up couch.

Reaching behind you to unclip your bra, he sucked and bit at your chest, loving the hushed whines you let out, knowing you were too embarrassed to let out any noise but always failed to do so around him.

Kissing a line down your stomach as you flinched, ticklish there, he finally got to your underwear line and tugged the flimsy material down your tanned legs.

Lifting your legs over his shoulders, he marked up the inside of your thighs, never losing your eyes in the process.

Pausing to admire your fresh ink, he smirked.

“Do you like it?”, you hummed, genuinely concerned he didn’t approve.

“I fuckin’ love it, sweetheart,” he hummed, pressing a kiss directly onto your clit.

Pushing his tongue in and out of you, switching between fucking you with it and toying with your clit, he pulled back and switched to his fingers, stretching you out.

You whined, not used to the stretch as it had been so long since he touched you like this.

“I know baby, I know. It’s been a while, huh?”, he condescendingly nodded at you, making fun of you for how helpless you were within the one minute he was playing with your pussy for.

“JJ,” you moaned when you felt his fingers curl up into you. You searched for some kind of stability, grabbing into his shoulder, acrylic nails biting into the sunburnt skin.

He tutted, slapping your hand off of his shoulder, “I’m not takin’ it easy on you, sweetheart.”

You whined, trying to plead for him to make you cum, not leave you high and dry, giving him those doe eyes that normally would make him do anything for you.

“No,” he hummed, “you made me wait, what…”, he paused lifting his thumb onto your clit, bringing you closer to your climax, “2 ish weeks?”

He slowed the circles on your clit, “That right, baby?”

You ignored him, too caught up in the feeling, but got pulled back to reality by his slap on the side of your thigh.

“It’s not nice to ignore somebody, is it baby?”, he pulled his fingers out, now just leaving delicate kisses down your pussy.

“You know what else isn’t nice? Having a girlfriend who wouldn’t let me in her for two fuckin weeks straight,” he complained, pulling his shirt off of his broad shoulders, walking away from you to grab a condom from his wallet.

Searching in his wallet, you got lost staring at his back. His tan, freckled, muscular back, was usually littered with scratches from your nails, but since your two-week break is the cleanest it’s ever looked.

“You gonna fuckin answer me?”, he pushed, pulling your thighs back apart, you now noticing in your dazed-out phase that he was now fully undressed, rolling the condom on in between your thighs.

“What?”, you quietly asked, clearly not paying any attention to whatever he was saying.

“You can’t fuckin think straight either, can you baby?”, he grabbed the tip of his cock, teasing it between your folds.

“Guess I’m not the only one who can’t go two weeks without sex,” he grunted, as he thrust into you, not waiting for you to adjust to his size.

You were left breathless at the stretch, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck for some sense of support.

“It…” he groaned as he thrust harshly into you, “was fuckin… torture baby.”

You mewled, “Wanted… wanted to surprise you D-Daddy.”

“Yeah?”, he nodded, grinning at you as he lifted one leg higher than the other to get deeper in you.

Feeling his balls hit the back of your thighs, his trimmed pubes tickling your clit with each thrust, you were barely coherent - he loved it. All you seemed to be able to do was make little squeaks of “Oh” with each thrust in you.

“You surprised me, alright,” he answered, running his calloused thumb over the still healing tattoo, making you hiss at the pain.

He smirked at you as you could barely keep your eyes open, so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Letting you get closer to an orgasm, he stilled his movements once he felt you clench around him, right before you could cum. You begged him to move, trying to move yourself and failing as his strong arms held you down.

“JJ,” you whined, as he pulled out of you, your thighs left spread, still hoping for him to come back to you.

He stared at the wet mess between your thighs, stepping back to get a better view.

Tugging the condom off, he jerked himself off as he stared at your body, groaning at the sight.

You moved your hand down to yourself, wanting to feel the same pleasure he was feeling, only to be scolded.

“Don’t you dare fuckin move.”

You whined even louder, forgetting about the others who might be awake listening.

Watching you clench around nothing, your wetness dripping out of you onto the soft blanket beneath you, he sneered.

“See how it fuckin feels?”

You bit on the tip of your acrylic nail, squirming in an attempt to find some form of relief. You whined, practically begging for him to help you out. He only smirked at you, letting himself finish staring at your awestruck face, his cum falling onto his abs, his load larger than normal due to your lack of help the past two weeks.

He let you stare, let the feeling of not being able to touch set in. “See how it feels? This is what it’s like having your girlfriend not let you fucking touch her.”

You sat up, leaning closer to him, still wiggling your hips for some friction. “JJ, please.”

He stared at you, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than just begging, princess.”

“Please, JJ! I need you, please,” you begged.

“So fuckin pathetic,” he snickered, grabbing his shirt to clean himself up.

With wide, worried eyes, you grabbed his shirt from him before he could wipe the cum off of himself.

“What?”, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Let me clean you up.”

He’d never say no to that. So, he let you. He did his best to ignore the amazing feeling of your mouth on him, still mad at you for the two weeks you made him wait.

He couldn’t be mad at you however, when he saw you retract your fingers, coated in his cum, from his cock only to bring them down to your pussy, mixing the two juices together.

Making direct eye contact and only breaking it when the pleasure was too much to keep your eyes open, you played with yourself, moaning his name pornographically to make him even more desperate for you.

He smirked down at you - how could he continue being mad at you when you’re just that hot?

Finally thrusting himself back into you, this time with no condom, the two of you finally forgave each other.

As he let you finish around him (which in turn made him cum a second time), he thumbed your tattoo, admiring it.

He smiled sweetly at you, completely contrasting the devilish attitude he held earlier, and put his boxers back on to get you cleaned up.

Going into the room over, he grabbed a spare shirt of his, a hair tie, a fresh pair of underwear, and a warm washcloth for you. Dressing you and wiping the cum off of you, he patted your bum as he whisked you off to the bathroom to pee.

Once you returned, he was waiting on the couch for you, scrolling through his phone. When he saw you leaning on the doorframe, blushing at the sight of him shirtless, still breathless from the sex, brushing his hands through his sandy locks.

Feeling your stare, he acknowledged you.

“C’mere,” he invited you, having you sit on his thigh, your arm holding onto your shoulder.

Lifting your shirt, he tugged your panties slightly to the side.

“Again?!”, you huffed, far too tired for another round.

He scoffed, “No, I’m tryna be a gentleman you perv.”

Grabbing the bottle of Aquaphor on the coffee table, he applied a layer to your tattoo, wanting to protect your new addition.

Once he was done with that, he applied the leftover balm to your lips, kissing you to apply some to his as well.

𝜗𝜚

The next morning, you woke up with JJ’s heavy arms around you, and the smell of pancakes Sarah must have been making filled your nose.

Pushing his arms off of you, you got up and grabbed a plate, not caring to put pants on - you practically lived here so everybody was used to you walking around practically naked in the mornings anyways - and how was that any different from a swimsuit?

Grabbing a glass of cold water, you soon heard JJ’s groans for you from the couch.

“I know JJ, one second.”

“You two uh… have a wild night last night, didn’t you?”, John B teased, ruffling your hair.

“Oh shuddup,” you rolled your eyes, “as if we don’t hear you and Sarah every night.”

Sitting back down with JJ, he kissed your cheek, stealing the pancakes from your plate, ignoring your complaints.

“Kie,” you called.

“Yeah?”

“He knows.”

“He knows?!”, she gasped. “Well, no shit they had a crazy night last night! I’m just glad I wasn’t here for it.”

JJ choked on the pancakes, “Holdup… she knows?!”

“Mhmmm”, you hummed.

“I’m lost,” Pope admitted.

“Me too.”

Kie popped a grape into her mouth, raising her eyebrows at you, “She got tatted.”

Sarah gasped, “Where? When?!”

“See, that’s the issue with where she chose to get tatted - when people ask that question it makes things a little awkward,” Kiara spoke, recalling the fight the two of you drunkenly had at the tattoo parlor.

“Hey, the guy said it would look cute and he was right!”, you retorted.

JJ choked again, this time on the water, “A guy did that to you? What the fuck?!”

“Relax,” you hit his shoulder “it was professional.”

He scowled at you, and the group fell into a silent confusion.

You stood and showed the tattoo, the group only getting a peek before JJ was wrapping his arms around you to hide the tattoo.

“Hey!”, you pushed him away. “I’m proud of this!”

“You were last night,” he joked.

“Oh shut up JJ.”

“It’s cute,” Sarah complimented, “feisty. Like you.”

You got up, popped a piece of pancake in your mouth, and kissed her on the cheek.

Throwing a grape at JJ, you grabbed his keys and slipped a pair of shorts on, shrugging your sandals on.

“C’mon bubs, you owe me a Plan B pill.”

He grumbled, getting his boots on and following you out to the car.

“You two are what’s wrong with America,” Pope complained, pretending to throw up.

“Oh, fuck off,” the two of you said in unison.

Rafe isn’t feeling well - I think I’m gonna keep him home. I don’t want him to get Wheez or Sarah sick and make them miss school!!

Maybe we can catch up another time??

You helped remove his shoes, careful not to wake him, wrote a note letting him know where you were in case he woke up, then changed into a crop top and sweatshorts to pick up some sushi from your favorite place.

𝜗𝜚

The second time it happened, it was a tough day for Rafe. He had been working extra hard these past few weeks, wanting to impress his dad so that he could accompany him in the next big meeting with investors.

Rafe was clearly upset, ranting to you about how he wished he had complete control of the business, rather than his dad.

“I’ve proven myself… I don’t know why he doesn’t want to give me more control. I’ve- I’ve taken care of all of his bullshit and I’m still making a quarter of the money he makes.”

You brushed the hair from his eyes as he rested his head on your thighs, “I know, Rafe.”

He huffed, “Can you scratch my back?”

You smiled, “Yeah, c’mere.”

He moved up your body, smushing his face into your boobs and letting your fingers slip under his shirt to scratch your nails down his back.

You traced your fingers up and down his back, “You’ll figure it out, Rafe. You always do.”

Normally, he’d give you an “I know”, but these reassurances fell on deaf ears, him in a deep sleep against your chest.

𝜗𝜚

What happened most often though, was Rafe coming over, texting that he “needed to see you”, only to wind up asleep for hours between your silk sheets.

“Rafeeee, wake up,” you whined. He promised he’d take you out on the boat today, but all he seemed to be doing was snuggling in your bed.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he groggily repeated.

“No, you’re not,” you pouted, poking at his bicep.

“Too comfy,” he groaned into your pillow.

You let him nap for a few more minutes, then run your nails down his back to wake him again.

He moaned into the pillow at the feeling, pulling you down with him to snuggle closer to you.

The two of you stayed there for a while, with his head on your chest, you scratching his head as he laid his full body weight on you.

“Why are you always so tired, Rafe?”, you hummed.

“Your room ‘so comfy,” he grumbled into your boobs.

You smiled sweetly at him, “Your room is comfy too…”

He went silent, his eyes open, staring at the wall. “Cause my dad's always home.”

You frowned, holding him closer to your chest so he'd close his eyes again.

“And your room is really comfy… and you’re really warm.”

You smirked at him, “mhmmmm.”

“And you scratch my back… and you smell like you.”

He buried his face in your chest again, his voice muffled, “and your boobs are good pillows.”

“That’s the main reason you sleep here, huh?”

“Mhmmmm”, he kissed your chest, smushing his face into them until he doze off again.

He clenched his jaw and leaned forward. “S’that why every guy in this party has fucked you before, huh?”

You dug your lipgloss and mirror out of your purse, flipped the mirror open, and began to apply the gloss to your lips. “That’s not true, Rafe.”

“Really?”, he scoffed at you.

“Really.”

“Why has half of the conversation here been about the crazy shit you’ve don’t with them, then?”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the mirror and tossing the items back in your purse, “I don’t fuckin’ know, Rafe. Maybe they’re manifesting or some shit. Besides, why do you even care? I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“I care because we’ve been friends since we were like… two. I’m just… looking out for you, you know?”, he huffed, clearly frustrated. “It’s not a good look to be seen as the girl who’s fucked every guy on the island.”

“Christ, Rafe - who cares what anybody on this island thinks anyways. Anybody who truly knows me knows that isn’t true. Why should I care about the opinions of people I don’t give a shit about?!”, you ranted, voice raising with anger.

“Would you keep it down?”

“Seriously though?! All people talk about here is their status. Who gives a fuck? We’re all gonna end up in the same place, you know - dead.”

As if on cue, Topper arrived with your drink, which made your eyes go wide with excitement.

This whole conversation needs alcohol, was all you could think. Before you could grab your drink, Rafe quickly beat you to it.

“You don’t need any more alcohol,” he pushed the drink back to the bartender.

“Okay, Dad”, you scoffed, reached to Topper’s hand, grabbed his beer, and downed it.

“Hey I was drinking that!”, he scowled.

Rafe tried to wrestle the bottle out of your hands, you squealing as he did so. He settled, knowing you wouldn’t give the bottle up, now just cornering you into the bar counter to stop you from bolting.

Once you finished chugging the beer, you wiped your mouth off and stared at him. He was pissed - and you loved it.

“Can I take you home?”, he asked as calmly as he could, though he was clearly mad.

You pressed your hand to his chest, pushing it away. “Woah there Mr. Cameron. Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“You know that’s not what I meant-”

“Sophie! Sophie! Rafe is-”, you drunkenly shouted to his girlfriend, wanting the secret to be out. But Rafe’s hand was already over your mouth as he pulled you away from the scene.

Once he had you outside on the gravel of the parking lot, you erupted into giggles.

“Get in the truck”, he asserted.

You obeyed, but not without complaint. “Would you relax, Rafe? I was kidding, I’m not actually gonna tell her.”

He slammed the passenger door on you and walked around to his side of the car. Starting the car, he silently drove as you hummed to the old “The Sundays” song on the radio.

He let you sing for a bit as you kept the window rolled down to feel the breeze. He hated the loud sound of the window being open, but let you leave it open anyways.

He let the song finish before posing the question he’d been waiting to ask you the whole drive: “Why’d you do that?”

You turned to look at him, and went quiet.

The truth is, you didn’t know why you did that. You were drunk, sure, but not so drunk that you’d accidentally slip the secret. You did it on purpose.

“Cause I hate that you lie to her.”

He sighed, switching the radio off. “I gave you a chance, you know,” he reminded.

Before he had ever done anything with Sophie, it was always you. He knew it was always you from the moment he met you. You just weren’t “ready for a relationship”, you always told him. And he believed you - so he settled with whatever you wanted to do.

Even if it meant just being friends with benefits.

“She’s just a placeholder for you, and you know that. So I don’t know why you’re freaking out about it”, he uttered.

“Don’t say that Rafe”, you shook your head.

“It’s the truth.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, Rafe only glancing at you worriedly every so often when you were looking out the window.

“Do you want me to break up with her?”, he proposed.

“Stop, Rafe, just stop.”

He huffed, “I just don’t know what the fuck you want me to do.”

He pulled over to a safe spot and parked the car so he could have his full attention on you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do”, he repeated. “Do you want me to break up with her?”

“No Rafe, I don’t-”

“Cause… Cause I’ve got my hands tied,” he interrupted. “I asked you if you wanted to be with me, and you said you weren’t ready, so I waited for you. Then when I was waiting for you, you got with like… three of the guys in my friend group.”

You clenched your jaw, wanting to talk back but knowing it wouldn’t help the situation.

“So then I assume you don’t want a relationship, but you’re okay with hooking up, right? Figured this whole friends-with-benefits thing was gonna work. I get a girlfriend while you’re still hooking up with all of these other guys. Now, you still don’t want to be in a relationship, but you don’t want me to be in a relationship either so that you can still hook up with me with zero commitment and all these other guys with zero commitment.”

He paused for a second.

“I tried waiting for you sweetheart, I really tried but I don’t know how much longer I can wait. It’s not fair to me, it’s not.”

“Rafe…”

“At this point, I’d rather you just reject me. It’d be easier than this,” he groaned, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Just give me an answer, will you?”

You smirked at him, and practically threw yourself on him, pressing your lips to his desperately.

The two of you made out for a solid thirty seconds, you on Rafe’s lap, before he pulled away.

“So does this mean it’s still just friends with benefits?”, he asked seriously, expression a little sad.

You laughed, kissing along his neck. “No, you idiot. This means real.”

He smirked down at you, “define real.”

You unbuttoned his shirt slowly, “real relationship, real dates, real love, real sex…”

“If what we’ve been doing is fake sex, I might just die when we have real sex”, he joked, holding onto your hips and slipping your dress strap off your shoulder, leaving a kiss on your shoulder.

“You’ll find out what real sex is soon… first you need to call your ex,” you demanded.

“Who cares about her?”, he groaned, “I already told you she was just a placeholder for you.”

“Do you want to find out what real sex and a real relationship with me is like?”

“Yes”, he immediately answered.

You grabbed his phone, typed in the password, and searched for her number.

“I’m in your favorites in your contacts list and she isn’t? Rafe…,” you whined, “that’s depressing…”

“Shut up.”

“I will,” you said once the phone began to ring, backing up just enough so you could lean over the console.

As she answered with a worried, “Is everything okay, Rafey???”, you unzipped his dress pants, and pulled out his cock, already hard, and kitten licked the tip.

He muted the phone momentarily, “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned as you hummed around him.

As he grabbed at your thighs, pushing your long dress up to your waist line and tracing the outline of your panties, he began, “Listen, Soph…”

Thanks for reading, and thank you anon for sending in a request. If any anons want to claim an emoji feel free to! Love you all so much - feel free to leave comments, they make me so happy!!