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pairings : ex boyfriend's hb!sim Jake x fem!reader
⠀ In which — you suspect your bf cheating on you with your best friend , so you team up with his hb to investigate. ( except he wants you 👀 )
[ 08 . 09 . ]
Thank you so much for the support you gave me for this smau! I never thought ppl would like it , since this is the last part , check out my new jungwon smau!
SUMMARY a feminist podcast roasts a boyband live on air, and Keonho makes the mistake of getting intrigued by the one girl who refuses to be impressed.
PAIRING idol Keonho x podcaster Yn / female reader
FEATURING CORTIS, ILLIT Wonhee, NewJeans Hyein, H2H Ian, mentions of other idols
GENRE social media au with written parts, romance, crack, fluff (tba)
WARNINGS umm lots of jokes? swearing, complete roasting of the male kind (= hopecore), kys/kym, underage drinking, tba
.𖥔 ݁ SYNOPSIS . after getting publicly broken up with because of a misspread rumor, you move away to "heal" and "start over". when you come back after months and see your ex and said person—who spread those rumors about you—getting closer each day, you realize maybe you shouldn't have ever come back. and it definitely doesn't help when your ex starts giving you mixed signals about everything.
PAIRING ex!jake x fem!reader
FEATURING aespa ningning, riize shotaro, nct haechan, le sserafim yunjin +enhypen
TAGS smau (+written) ; crack ; university au ; lots of miscommunication ; dumbass jake ; cringey moments ; cliche 𝓦 none that I can think of other than suggestive comments?
Giving Away Your Ex’s Phone Number @ The Bar Instead of Yours…
ex bf frat!rafe x reader
c/w .ᐟ.ᐟ voyeurism (phone call during sex), physical violence (rafe vs random guy), digital threats, pet names, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m receiving), jealous!rafe, choking, spanking, possessive!rafe, begging, praise + degradation kink, face fucking, cum play + overstim
-> Click on the image and slide your finger to the left 💕
4.9K
Rafe’s Phone…
Your back is pressed to the bar, one hand clutching your drink, the other buzzing with an incoming call from Rafe. You don’t even look—you just double-tap the side of your phone to decline it, eyes locked on Easton as he leans in, mumbling something about how ‘he’s not scared’.
“Can’t believe you gave your ex my number,” he chuckles, stepping closer. “Could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck with your ex in exchange for your number. I would’ve done way worse.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, giving him a soft smile, head tilting slightly—and that’s all it takes.
“Nah, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he says, the space between you narrowing.
This isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to take Rafe’s number, text him, and fuck off. But now he’s looking down at your lips, wetting his own. The kiss he stole earlier still burns on your lips—and from the way he’s looking at you, he wants more.
So you wrap your lips around your straw—keeping yourself busy.
A hand slaps down on Easton’s shoulder—too familiar to be anyone else. “Rafe!” His name slips out on a gasp. Gold ring. Signature watch. Just a flash before he spins him around.
Easton barely has time to blink before Rafe’s fist slams into his jaw—brutal and fast.
He hits the floor hard and the bar erupts around you.
Rafe stands there, chest heaving, shaking out his hand. “You done?” He growls. “Seriously. Are you done now?”
He laughs—low and humorless—as you look up at him, eyes wide.
“Six fucking guys, huh?” He steps forward. “You were really about to give him my number too?”
“No…”
“Oh? Finally got some sense, huh?”
“You know him… it’s Easton,” you breathe—just as the other man groans, stumbling to his feet between you. Crack—another hit, straight to the face drops him again.
“I told you to stay away from her—HEY!” The word rips from Rafe’s throat as two bouncers grab him from behind. “I’M TALKIN’ TO HER!” He shouts.
You sip slow and careful, trying not to smile but the corners of your lips betray you. And Rafe sees it.
“Oh, you think this is funny?” He snarls, eyes drilling into you.
You just look at him, drink half-raised, face calm even as your pulse skitters.
The crowd parts around him as the bouncers drag him toward the door—all six-foot-two of him fighting every inch of the way.
They toss him outside like garbage, but he never stops looking back at you.
Nostrils flared. Lips tight. Jaw locked like stone. Red and blue police lights flicker across his face as the doors close.
You know he’s not gonna push it. Too much security. And a night in jail would leave no possibility of a night with you.
He’s not done.
The bar’s still buzzing behind you as you and your friends slide into the back of the Uber.
You barely settle into the middle seat when someone else climbs in behind you fast… uninvited. “Rafe—” You gasp for the second time of the night.
He slams the door shut before you can react, settling in beside you, fastening his seatbelt. Your friends exchange a look, both trying not to laugh. Honestly, they expected no less.
Your friend lays out her hand to the other— “Pay up, babe.”
Bailey groans dramatically from the front seat. Slaps a five in Hannah’s hand with an eye-roll.
“You two bet on this shit, seriously?” Rafe mutters under his breath.
“Mhmm.” Hannah hums, smug. “I said he was gonna get her on the street.”
“I said you were gonna try to break in and get arrested,” Bailey sighs like she’s disappointed.
“I told you, Bails. He’s predictable,” Hannah chuckles, like Rafe’s not even there.
Bailey gives you the look and you wink. She glances at the wide-eyed Uber driver, his night taking a turn for the dramatic real fast. “We’ll catch another Uber—I’m starving,” she mutters, pushing the door open.
Rafe’s hand shoots out—grabbing your arm like he really thought you might leave him behind. “Don’t,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Are you—Is everything okay?” The driver asks, and you chuckle tiredly and nod.
“Just perfect,” you mutter, voice flat and sarcastic—just enough to make Rafe’s head snap to you in disgust.
You blow out a raspberry, digging in your purse for your lip gloss, denying him the attention he’s so clearly starving for. You unscrew the cap slowly, dragging the wand across your bottom lip like it’s no big deal—like your ex-boyfriend didn’t just knock a guy out at a bar for saying his name, then climb into your Uber like some movie villain. Like this is just how your Wednesday nights go now.
You click the gloss shut and fluff your hair, adjust your cleavage, fixing the little R pendant on your chest.
“You done?” Rafe asks, annoyed—but you ignore him still. Instead, you lift your phone, angling it slightly downward, pout soft, eyes softer; chin tilted just right—and flash.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe recoils, disgust painted all over his face because a part of him knows exactly who that’s for.
You hum lightly, scrolling through your messages until you find the thread.
Easton…
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: Damn tonight was crazy. I hope you’re okay.
📱Your Name: How are you doing?
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: I’m fine. Just a little banged up.
You scroll a little lower, taking the time to let Rafe read it as well.
Your Name: Oh no is it bad 🥺
Rafe sucks his teeth, looking away for a moment to collect his thoughts as he sees the top of a picture sent from Easton—and a double-tap, heart reaction from you.
You roll your thumb a little lower—making sure Rafe sees. And of course Easton’s shirtless. Of course he looks like every hockey boyfriend romance main character after a rough game. Abs on full display, split lip and a black eye, one arm folded and flexed behind his head.
His eyes are a rich chocolate brown—black hair damp from a shower, skin dewy, eyes fixed on the camera like he wants you to come fix the damage he got from your ex.
📱Your Name: I’m so sorry about my ex. That looks like it hurts.
“Don’t,” Rafe warns.
📱Your Name: I can stop by if you need a little distraction tonight 💕
You tap the plus sign on the bottom of your text messages, uploading the selfie you just took.
“Enough,” Rafe snaps, snatching your phone from your hand.
But that sick little whoosh already hit.
📲 Message delivered. Too late.
His jaw flexes once, then again, like he’s chewing glass. He blinks at the screen like he might still have a chance—like if he grips the phone hard enough, the message might crawl back out.
💬 Read.
“Oh my god,” Rafe’s eyes fall shut and his head tips back to the headrest. He takes a tight breath, blowing it out his nostrils, hands clutching his legs, fingers digging in to keep himself from falling to pieces. “Baby… what kind of game are you playin’ here?”
He lifts your phone between you like it’s evidence, and you can already see back-to-back notifications coming in from Easton.
“I honestly don’t think I can fuckin’ look at this reply without killing him.”
“That’s a lot—”
“You really sent that to him? To him? Really? You want me to lose it? Is that what you want?” His voice breaks—hoarse and broken. You lean a little deeper into the seat, crossing your arms. “He’s got that picture in his phone forever,” he fumes.
“It’s a selfie… it’s not like I sent him a nude. Calm the fuck down.”
“You—You wanted me here. Don’t act like you didn’t. Why else would you do this shit? You know who I am. You knew I’d lose it and come find you. You let him touch you—fucking kiss you.”
“He bought me a drink,” you say flatly.
“Yeah, and I broke his fucking face,” he answers with the same tone, the vein in his neck pulsing; knuckles white as they clutch your phone.
“Give me my phone, Rafe—”
“You’re not texting him. I know you don’t want to either. I could see it on your fuckin’ face. You didn’t give a shit about him when I hit him. You weren’t scared for him. You were watching me. Your texts to him are dry as fuck. I remember vividly how you were talking to me when we first started dating—even before we took a break,” he murmurs. “Just say you miss me. Say you wanted me to follow you. Just say it—so I don’t feel like a complete fucking idiot right now.”
“All that time, Rafe. Day after day, spent showing you how much I cared for you and it still wasn’t enough for you, until it was too late. I wanted you to sweat—”
“Mission fucking accomplished, sweetheart,” he huffs out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyelids fall shut. “I know I deserve this shit and I'm so fucking sorry. I will work on my shit—but you could’ve stopped at the first or second and got your point across—”
The Uber pulls up to the curb and you step out, heels slapping against the pavement.
Rafe moves to follow you, and you slam the door behind you, hitting him clumsily—making him fumble forward as he rushes to catch up.
“Shit. Fuck,” he hisses.
“Oh. Were you planning on coming in?” You ask without so much as a glance over your shoulder at the broken man behind you, dragging himself up the stairs.
“You serious?”
“I didn’t ask you over.”
Rafe’s shoes hit the stairs—loud and angry. “Give me five fucking minutes—”
His palm slams against the door above you, holding it open, refusing to give you the chance to push him away again. He’s coming inside.
You start up the stairs, and he follows.
Your phone starts to ring in Rafe’s fist, the sound echoing through the empty house like a warning bell—chills race down your spine.
The growl that escapes him is animalistic, clawing out of his throat.
“DON’T SAY A FUCKIN’ WORD,” he barks into your phone at Easton. “DON’T EVEN FUCKING BREATHE. I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF. I TOLD YOU SHE WAS MINE, ALRIGHT? YOU THINK SHE WAS SENDING YOU THAT SHIT BECAUSE SHE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOU?”
You bite your lip, holding back a nervous smile, adrenaline coursing through your veins as he storms up the steps behind you.
“SHE’S MINE,” Rafe growls. “YOU HEAR ME? IF YOU EVER CALL HER AGAIN—IF YOU EVER LOOK AT HER AGAIN—YOU’RE DEAD. DEAD. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
He ends the call just as your bedroom door slams shut behind you, his back hitting it with a heavy thud.
Silence.
His chest rises slowly. Eyes fall shut. You don’t move, and neither does he—his breathing shredded like he just ran from the cops instead of ending a call with some hockey boy named Easton.
He watches every step as you cross the room, tracks every flick of your fingers as you toss your keys on the dresser, pull your earrings off one by one. You don’t even spare him a glance—you know that’ll be the final blow.
You sit on the edge of the mattress. Finally, your gaze lifts.
And he looks destroyed.
Rafe rests his hands over his eyes, muscles clenched tight, dragging them down his face as he moves toward you slowly.
And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly look more ruined for you, he sinks to the floor—one knee, then the other. His head bows between his broad shoulders. A long, winded breath leaves his chest before he raises his eyes to meet yours.
“Baby,” he says softly, his voice already fraying at the edges. “I—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, okay?”
You press your lips together, letting him unspool.
“I know I hurt you,” he goes on. “I know I fucked up. I know I let my jealousy eat me alive for no reason. You’re fucking perfect. And I… I’m a mess. I know I am. Especially when I think about someone coming in between me and you—and fucking it up. And then I go and fuck it up myself.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched, eyes glossy.
“You were so fucking good to me. I'm begging you please, please stop. I'm so sorry.”
Then, slowly, you part your knees—just slightly.
Rafe sees it and breathes deeper, moving in—settling as close as you’ll let him. He rests his head in your lap, hands finding your hips as the tension bleeds from his body.
“I’m so tired,” he whispers. “I’m not okay. I’m not. Not without you.”
You rest your hand on his head, fingers slipping into his messy hair.
“I need you,” he says, voice barely audible.
You stroke his cheek and he shuts his eyes, living in your touch.
“Co’mere,” you murmur, guiding him to look up at you. You hold his cheeks in your palms—and you swear you see the glimmer of tears in his eyes, his nose scrunching slightly like he’s begging them not to fall.
“I missed you,” you whisper.
“You got no idea how much I missed you,” he breathes, dragging his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm. “M’sorry for callin’ you so much—I lost it a little—”
“A little?” you giggle breathily.
“A lot… I was a fuckin’ problem.”
“You’re not allowed to break my heart again, Rafe,” you say softly.
“I won’t, baby. You got my word.”
He slips his hands beneath your thighs and lifts you. Your legs wrap around his waist, chest to chest, your palms still cupping his cheeks, your eyes locked on his, and he kisses you, like he’s trying to erase the days apart from his memory—the nights spent wishing he could get over you.
You tighten your legs around his waist as he carries you toward the bed—kissing you harder with every step.
His forehead presses to yours. Eyes closed. Breathing unsteady. When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “I’ll never do that shit again.”
Your fingers skim the side of his neck, feeling the thump of his pulse—fast and nervous. You wait just a moment, until his eyes meet yours again.
“I swear to God, baby,” he says, voice raw. “I’ll never accuse you like that again. I won’t let my jealousy ruin us. Just—” He swallows hard. “Can we try to go back to us?”
“Yes,” you whisper and he steals the words straight off your lips.
The kiss deepens.
His mouth parts against yours, tongue sweeping slow and hungry, tasting you. You moan into him as your hands slide up his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer. His hips press forward, grinding slow and heavy between your legs.
Rafe breaks the kiss just long enough to tear his shirt over his head, tossing it blindly. His chest heaves—skin flushed, jaw tight. That gold chain swings at his collarbone, catching the light.
And then he’s on you again. Mouth on your neck. Your shoulder. Biting just hard enough to make your breath catch.
“I missed you so fuckin’ bad,” he groans into your skin.
You grab the back of his hair, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing him harder now—hungry and open, your teeth catching on his bottom lip.
“I missed you too, baby.”
“Love when you call me that,” he mutters against your skin, hot breath skating over your skin as he tugs at your dress. “Take this off. Let me see you.”
You grab the bottom of your dress—already bunched around your waist—pulling it over your head.
“Fuck me…” His hands are already on your body, sliding up—palms hot and rough—and then he’s mouthing at your chest, sucking at the gentle skin of your cleavage.
He shoves his jeans down, cock already straining through black briefs. You lick your lips as your gaze drops—panties clinging, lace wet between your thighs.
His voice drops to a dangerous rasp, fingers slipping between your legs to pull the fabric tight against you.
Your thighs bracket his hips. He’s still catching his breath when you lift a hand to his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
“I hated that you didn’t trust me,” you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “It fucking hurt, Rafe.”
“I know, pretty—”
“But…” You press your lips to his neck, working slowly up his skin, lips brushing his ear. “Seeing you like that? Losing it over me?”
You grab his hand—knuckles bruised and split—bringing his fingers to your lips.
“So fucking hot,” you hum, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth, slow and deliberate. The tips press against your tongue and your lips seal tight, cheeks hollowing.
Rafe lets out the filthiest groan as you swirl your tongue—just like you would if it were his cock in your mouth—and you know from the look on his face that he’s fantasizing about that as well.
“You like me possessive?” He asks, pulling your panties down, dragging your thighs apart. “You want me obsessed?” He asks as you whimper a soft ‘yes’. “You fuckin’ got it.”
You try to smirk but it falters when he bites your thigh, a sharp gasp fleeing your parted lips as he leaves his mark.
“You’re mine. Say it,” Rafe breathes.
“I’m yours,” you pant, head tipping back.
He pushes his briefs down his legs, cock swinging free. Long and hard; thick and throbbing. His dick presses against your thigh, tip dragging along your slit as he lines himself up.
He drives into you, burying himself to the hilt.
He fucks into you hard—jealousy fueling every thrust, like he needs to brand you from the inside out.
Your gasp snaps into a moan, back arching off the mattress, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in.
“Rafe, fuck—”
“I know, baby, I know,” he pants against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, every thrust deep and punishing. “You feel what you do to me?” He grits. “Every time I close my fuckin’ eyes it’s you—this pussy, this face, this fuckin’ mouth.”
You pull him down by his chain, crashing your lips to his again. Your teeth scrape his lip, his tongue licking into your mouth. You’re so wet he slides in and out of you with ease, obscene sounds echoing between your bodies.
He grinds down, hips circling, making your breath catch. “Yes,” you cry, clenching around him, and he groans—loud and filthy.
“Look at you. Crying on my cock—”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Rafe’s phone lights up on the edge of the bed, vibrating with an unknown number and a local area code. Your breath catches and Rafe freezes for a moment.
“This some guy from the bar, ain’t it?” He asks, slamming his hips forward so hard your body jolts, skin smacking against his. “Fuck, pretty girl. You made a goddamn mess for me, huh?” He mutters through gritted teeth.
Before you can even answer, he snatches the phone and takes the call.
“WHAT?” He snarls into the speaker, sweat dripping off his brow, bicep flexing as he squeezes your hip, keeping you flush to him.
“Rosie?” You hear on the other end, tentative and confused.
Rafe’s hand cracks against your thigh—sharp and stinging—you scream, breathless and broken, your voice spilling straight into the phone. He clamps his big hand around your throat, using the leverage to slam into you harder.
“YOU HEAR THAT, BITCH?” Rafe snarls as a self-satisfied smile stretches across his lips.
He throws the phone somewhere beside you without bothering to end the call. His hands hook behind your thighs, folding you in half, pinning you to the bed as he drives into you. Your nails claw at the sheets, then at his back, then into his hair, pulling at the roots.
“Rafe—Rafe, holy shit—” He dips down to kiss you—his cock sinking impossibly deep.
“You’re right there. C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me.”
Your head falls back, mouth open in a silent cry as your body tightens, every muscle trembling as he keeps hitting that exact spot.
“C’mon, baby. Let him hear who makes you cum.”
Your orgasm rips through you so hard your back arches off the bed, a choked sob escaping your lips as you clamp around him, shaking under his weight.
“That’s it,” he whispers against your mouth, still thrusting through the aftershocks. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
You’re soaking him, dripping down your thighs, pulsing around him as he keeps fucking you through it, working you toward another.
“Feel that mess you made?” He asks, smugness dripping from every word. “Proud of you, baby. So filthy for me.”
“Feel so good,” you manage, barely forming words.
“One more—just one more. Need you on top.”
He pulls out fast, making you gasp at the loss of him. Rafe wraps his hand around his dick, pumping as he watches you climb on top, hovering over him; delicate fingers circling your clit as he licks his bottom lip.
You spread your thighs, sinking on his tip, taking the first few inches, moving up and down teasingly before you take the rest—eyes locked on his, nails digging into his chest.
You ride him hard, your bodies colliding in messy, rhythmic slaps, the sounds of your pleasure filling the room.
Rafe can’t keep quiet—his moans, his praise, his ragged breathing filling the room. You know if that fucker is still on the phone, he wants him to hear all of it. Rafe grabs your waist, lifting you slightly only to slam up into you.
“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he rasps. “Right fucking now.”
And you do—your belly tightens, the band snaps, and his name tumbles past your lips as your head falls back. Your throat’s ragged from sobbing his name, thighs drenched in sweat and slick, shining under the low light.
“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, reaching up, hooking a hand around the back of your neck to kiss you. You’re breathing heavily and so is he—a breathy chuckle buzzing against your lips.
“Go on,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “Get on your knees.”
Your whole body trembles as you lift off his length, hissing in overstimulation, knees pressing against the bedroom floor. You look up at him from between his legs—mascara smudged, hair wild, eyes glassy, chest rising fast.
Rafe reaches for his phone, grabbing it off the bed. The call ended seconds ago. He taps the screen a few times—then points the camera right at you as you open your mouth, tongue out.
His other hand wraps around his cock, tapping the swollen tip against your tongue; your mouth already pillowy and wet from kissing.
You wrap your lips around him and he groans instantly, jaw dropping, one hand slipping into your hair. You taste yourself on him and moan around his length as you take him deeper.
“Christ… Just—Just like that, baby,” he pants, guiding your head, using your mouth to stroke him slow, then faster. You let him use you—let him fuck your throat—spit slicking your chin as your eyes water and your hands grip his thighs for balance.
The phone is still trained on your lips, trembling in his hand, catching every moan, every gag, every obscene sound.
He bites his lip, hips jerking. “Close, baby. Shit—I’m fuckin’ close—”
He pulls out, stroking hard, warm ropes of cum painting your lips, your tongue, your chest.
Your hands are trembling against his legs, looking up at him as he looks down at you. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he grabs you by your cheeks to get a better look.
His thumb rubs his cum along your lips, slipping it inside your mouth. You suck it clean, releasing it with a filthy pop.
“God, you’re fuckin’ stunning, you know that?” He drawls, voice syrupy and spent, eyes half-lidded and impossibly blue. “Say it again for the camera, angel—who the fuck do you belong to?”
You lean into the lens, licking the corner of your mouth clean, eyes gleaming. “Rafe Cameron.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Giving Away Your Ex’s Phone Number @ The Bar Instead of Yours…
ex bf frat!rafe x reader
c/w .ᐟ.ᐟ voyeurism (phone call during sex), physical violence (rafe vs random guy), digital threats, pet names, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m receiving), jealous!rafe, choking, spanking, possessive!rafe, begging, praise + degradation kink, face fucking, cum play + overstim
-> Click on the image and slide your finger to the left 💕
4.9K
Rafe’s Phone…
Your back is pressed to the bar, one hand clutching your drink, the other buzzing with an incoming call from Rafe. You don’t even look—you just double-tap the side of your phone to decline it, eyes locked on Easton as he leans in, mumbling something about how ‘he’s not scared’.
“Can’t believe you gave your ex my number,” he chuckles, stepping closer. “Could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck with your ex in exchange for your number. I would’ve done way worse.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, giving him a soft smile, head tilting slightly—and that’s all it takes.
“Nah, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he says, the space between you narrowing.
This isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to take Rafe’s number, text him, and fuck off. But now he’s looking down at your lips, wetting his own. The kiss he stole earlier still burns on your lips—and from the way he’s looking at you, he wants more.
So you wrap your lips around your straw—keeping yourself busy.
A hand slaps down on Easton’s shoulder—too familiar to be anyone else. “Rafe!” His name slips out on a gasp. Gold ring. Signature watch. Just a flash before he spins him around.
Easton barely has time to blink before Rafe’s fist slams into his jaw—brutal and fast.
He hits the floor hard and the bar erupts around you.
Rafe stands there, chest heaving, shaking out his hand. “You done?” He growls. “Seriously. Are you done now?”
He laughs—low and humorless—as you look up at him, eyes wide.
“Six fucking guys, huh?” He steps forward. “You were really about to give him my number too?”
“No…”
“Oh? Finally got some sense, huh?”
“You know him… it’s Easton,” you breathe—just as the other man groans, stumbling to his feet between you. Crack—another hit, straight to the face drops him again.
“I told you to stay away from her—HEY!” The word rips from Rafe’s throat as two bouncers grab him from behind. “I’M TALKIN’ TO HER!” He shouts.
You sip slow and careful, trying not to smile but the corners of your lips betray you. And Rafe sees it.
“Oh, you think this is funny?” He snarls, eyes drilling into you.
You just look at him, drink half-raised, face calm even as your pulse skitters.
The crowd parts around him as the bouncers drag him toward the door—all six-foot-two of him fighting every inch of the way.
They toss him outside like garbage, but he never stops looking back at you.
Nostrils flared. Lips tight. Jaw locked like stone. Red and blue police lights flicker across his face as the doors close.
You know he’s not gonna push it. Too much security. And a night in jail would leave no possibility of a night with you.
He’s not done.
The bar’s still buzzing behind you as you and your friends slide into the back of the Uber.
You barely settle into the middle seat when someone else climbs in behind you fast… uninvited. “Rafe—” You gasp for the second time of the night.
He slams the door shut before you can react, settling in beside you, fastening his seatbelt. Your friends exchange a look, both trying not to laugh. Honestly, they expected no less.
Your friend lays out her hand to the other— “Pay up, babe.”
Bailey groans dramatically from the front seat. Slaps a five in Hannah’s hand with an eye-roll.
“You two bet on this shit, seriously?” Rafe mutters under his breath.
“Mhmm.” Hannah hums, smug. “I said he was gonna get her on the street.”
“I said you were gonna try to break in and get arrested,” Bailey sighs like she’s disappointed.
“I told you, Bails. He’s predictable,” Hannah chuckles, like Rafe’s not even there.
Bailey gives you the look and you wink. She glances at the wide-eyed Uber driver, his night taking a turn for the dramatic real fast. “We’ll catch another Uber—I’m starving,” she mutters, pushing the door open.
Rafe’s hand shoots out—grabbing your arm like he really thought you might leave him behind. “Don’t,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Are you—Is everything okay?” The driver asks, and you chuckle tiredly and nod.
“Just perfect,” you mutter, voice flat and sarcastic—just enough to make Rafe’s head snap to you in disgust.
You blow out a raspberry, digging in your purse for your lip gloss, denying him the attention he’s so clearly starving for. You unscrew the cap slowly, dragging the wand across your bottom lip like it’s no big deal—like your ex-boyfriend didn’t just knock a guy out at a bar for saying his name, then climb into your Uber like some movie villain. Like this is just how your Wednesday nights go now.
You click the gloss shut and fluff your hair, adjust your cleavage, fixing the little R pendant on your chest.
“You done?” Rafe asks, annoyed—but you ignore him still. Instead, you lift your phone, angling it slightly downward, pout soft, eyes softer; chin tilted just right—and flash.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe recoils, disgust painted all over his face because a part of him knows exactly who that’s for.
You hum lightly, scrolling through your messages until you find the thread.
Easton…
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: Damn tonight was crazy. I hope you’re okay.
📱Your Name: How are you doing?
📱Easton Lookout Bar 🏒🧸: I’m fine. Just a little banged up.
You scroll a little lower, taking the time to let Rafe read it as well.
Your Name: Oh no is it bad 🥺
Rafe sucks his teeth, looking away for a moment to collect his thoughts as he sees the top of a picture sent from Easton—and a double-tap, heart reaction from you.
You roll your thumb a little lower—making sure Rafe sees. And of course Easton’s shirtless. Of course he looks like every hockey boyfriend romance main character after a rough game. Abs on full display, split lip and a black eye, one arm folded and flexed behind his head.
His eyes are a rich chocolate brown—black hair damp from a shower, skin dewy, eyes fixed on the camera like he wants you to come fix the damage he got from your ex.
📱Your Name: I’m so sorry about my ex. That looks like it hurts.
“Don’t,” Rafe warns.
📱Your Name: I can stop by if you need a little distraction tonight 💕
You tap the plus sign on the bottom of your text messages, uploading the selfie you just took.
“Enough,” Rafe snaps, snatching your phone from your hand.
But that sick little whoosh already hit.
📲 Message delivered. Too late.
His jaw flexes once, then again, like he’s chewing glass. He blinks at the screen like he might still have a chance—like if he grips the phone hard enough, the message might crawl back out.
💬 Read.
“Oh my god,” Rafe’s eyes fall shut and his head tips back to the headrest. He takes a tight breath, blowing it out his nostrils, hands clutching his legs, fingers digging in to keep himself from falling to pieces. “Baby… what kind of game are you playin’ here?”
He lifts your phone between you like it’s evidence, and you can already see back-to-back notifications coming in from Easton.
“I honestly don’t think I can fuckin’ look at this reply without killing him.”
“That’s a lot—”
“You really sent that to him? To him? Really? You want me to lose it? Is that what you want?” His voice breaks—hoarse and broken. You lean a little deeper into the seat, crossing your arms. “He’s got that picture in his phone forever,” he fumes.
“It’s a selfie… it’s not like I sent him a nude. Calm the fuck down.”
“You—You wanted me here. Don’t act like you didn’t. Why else would you do this shit? You know who I am. You knew I’d lose it and come find you. You let him touch you—fucking kiss you.”
“He bought me a drink,” you say flatly.
“Yeah, and I broke his fucking face,” he answers with the same tone, the vein in his neck pulsing; knuckles white as they clutch your phone.
“Give me my phone, Rafe—”
“You’re not texting him. I know you don’t want to either. I could see it on your fuckin’ face. You didn’t give a shit about him when I hit him. You weren’t scared for him. You were watching me. Your texts to him are dry as fuck. I remember vividly how you were talking to me when we first started dating—even before we took a break,” he murmurs. “Just say you miss me. Say you wanted me to follow you. Just say it—so I don’t feel like a complete fucking idiot right now.”
“All that time, Rafe. Day after day, spent showing you how much I cared for you and it still wasn’t enough for you, until it was too late. I wanted you to sweat—”
“Mission fucking accomplished, sweetheart,” he huffs out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyelids fall shut. “I know I deserve this shit and I'm so fucking sorry. I will work on my shit—but you could’ve stopped at the first or second and got your point across—”
The Uber pulls up to the curb and you step out, heels slapping against the pavement.
Rafe moves to follow you, and you slam the door behind you, hitting him clumsily—making him fumble forward as he rushes to catch up.
“Shit. Fuck,” he hisses.
“Oh. Were you planning on coming in?” You ask without so much as a glance over your shoulder at the broken man behind you, dragging himself up the stairs.
“You serious?”
“I didn’t ask you over.”
Rafe’s shoes hit the stairs—loud and angry. “Give me five fucking minutes—”
His palm slams against the door above you, holding it open, refusing to give you the chance to push him away again. He’s coming inside.
You start up the stairs, and he follows.
Your phone starts to ring in Rafe’s fist, the sound echoing through the empty house like a warning bell—chills race down your spine.
The growl that escapes him is animalistic, clawing out of his throat.
“DON’T SAY A FUCKIN’ WORD,” he barks into your phone at Easton. “DON’T EVEN FUCKING BREATHE. I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF. I TOLD YOU SHE WAS MINE, ALRIGHT? YOU THINK SHE WAS SENDING YOU THAT SHIT BECAUSE SHE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOU?”
You bite your lip, holding back a nervous smile, adrenaline coursing through your veins as he storms up the steps behind you.
“SHE’S MINE,” Rafe growls. “YOU HEAR ME? IF YOU EVER CALL HER AGAIN—IF YOU EVER LOOK AT HER AGAIN—YOU’RE DEAD. DEAD. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
He ends the call just as your bedroom door slams shut behind you, his back hitting it with a heavy thud.
Silence.
His chest rises slowly. Eyes fall shut. You don’t move, and neither does he—his breathing shredded like he just ran from the cops instead of ending a call with some hockey boy named Easton.
He watches every step as you cross the room, tracks every flick of your fingers as you toss your keys on the dresser, pull your earrings off one by one. You don’t even spare him a glance—you know that’ll be the final blow.
You sit on the edge of the mattress. Finally, your gaze lifts.
And he looks destroyed.
Rafe rests his hands over his eyes, muscles clenched tight, dragging them down his face as he moves toward you slowly.
And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly look more ruined for you, he sinks to the floor—one knee, then the other. His head bows between his broad shoulders. A long, winded breath leaves his chest before he raises his eyes to meet yours.
“Baby,” he says softly, his voice already fraying at the edges. “I—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start, okay?”
You press your lips together, letting him unspool.
“I know I hurt you,” he goes on. “I know I fucked up. I know I let my jealousy eat me alive for no reason. You’re fucking perfect. And I… I’m a mess. I know I am. Especially when I think about someone coming in between me and you—and fucking it up. And then I go and fuck it up myself.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched, eyes glossy.
“You were so fucking good to me. I'm begging you please, please stop. I'm so sorry.”
Then, slowly, you part your knees—just slightly.
Rafe sees it and breathes deeper, moving in—settling as close as you’ll let him. He rests his head in your lap, hands finding your hips as the tension bleeds from his body.
“I’m so tired,” he whispers. “I’m not okay. I’m not. Not without you.”
You rest your hand on his head, fingers slipping into his messy hair.
“I need you,” he says, voice barely audible.
You stroke his cheek and he shuts his eyes, living in your touch.
“Co’mere,” you murmur, guiding him to look up at you. You hold his cheeks in your palms—and you swear you see the glimmer of tears in his eyes, his nose scrunching slightly like he’s begging them not to fall.
“I missed you,” you whisper.
“You got no idea how much I missed you,” he breathes, dragging his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm. “M’sorry for callin’ you so much—I lost it a little—”
“A little?” you giggle breathily.
“A lot… I was a fuckin’ problem.”
“You’re not allowed to break my heart again, Rafe,” you say softly.
“I won’t, baby. You got my word.”
He slips his hands beneath your thighs and lifts you. Your legs wrap around his waist, chest to chest, your palms still cupping his cheeks, your eyes locked on his, and he kisses you, like he’s trying to erase the days apart from his memory—the nights spent wishing he could get over you.
You tighten your legs around his waist as he carries you toward the bed—kissing you harder with every step.
His forehead presses to yours. Eyes closed. Breathing unsteady. When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “I’ll never do that shit again.”
Your fingers skim the side of his neck, feeling the thump of his pulse—fast and nervous. You wait just a moment, until his eyes meet yours again.
“I swear to God, baby,” he says, voice raw. “I’ll never accuse you like that again. I won’t let my jealousy ruin us. Just—” He swallows hard. “Can we try to go back to us?”
“Yes,” you whisper and he steals the words straight off your lips.
The kiss deepens.
His mouth parts against yours, tongue sweeping slow and hungry, tasting you. You moan into him as your hands slide up his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer. His hips press forward, grinding slow and heavy between your legs.
Rafe breaks the kiss just long enough to tear his shirt over his head, tossing it blindly. His chest heaves—skin flushed, jaw tight. That gold chain swings at his collarbone, catching the light.
And then he’s on you again. Mouth on your neck. Your shoulder. Biting just hard enough to make your breath catch.
“I missed you so fuckin’ bad,” he groans into your skin.
You grab the back of his hair, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing him harder now—hungry and open, your teeth catching on his bottom lip.
“I missed you too, baby.”
“Love when you call me that,” he mutters against your skin, hot breath skating over your skin as he tugs at your dress. “Take this off. Let me see you.”
You grab the bottom of your dress—already bunched around your waist—pulling it over your head.
“Fuck me…” His hands are already on your body, sliding up—palms hot and rough—and then he’s mouthing at your chest, sucking at the gentle skin of your cleavage.
He shoves his jeans down, cock already straining through black briefs. You lick your lips as your gaze drops—panties clinging, lace wet between your thighs.
His voice drops to a dangerous rasp, fingers slipping between your legs to pull the fabric tight against you.
Your thighs bracket his hips. He’s still catching his breath when you lift a hand to his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
“I hated that you didn’t trust me,” you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “It fucking hurt, Rafe.”
“I know, pretty—”
“But…” You press your lips to his neck, working slowly up his skin, lips brushing his ear. “Seeing you like that? Losing it over me?”
You grab his hand—knuckles bruised and split—bringing his fingers to your lips.
“So fucking hot,” you hum, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth, slow and deliberate. The tips press against your tongue and your lips seal tight, cheeks hollowing.
Rafe lets out the filthiest groan as you swirl your tongue—just like you would if it were his cock in your mouth—and you know from the look on his face that he’s fantasizing about that as well.
“You like me possessive?” He asks, pulling your panties down, dragging your thighs apart. “You want me obsessed?” He asks as you whimper a soft ‘yes’. “You fuckin’ got it.”
You try to smirk but it falters when he bites your thigh, a sharp gasp fleeing your parted lips as he leaves his mark.
“You’re mine. Say it,” Rafe breathes.
“I’m yours,” you pant, head tipping back.
He pushes his briefs down his legs, cock swinging free. Long and hard; thick and throbbing. His dick presses against your thigh, tip dragging along your slit as he lines himself up.
He drives into you, burying himself to the hilt.
He fucks into you hard—jealousy fueling every thrust, like he needs to brand you from the inside out.
Your gasp snaps into a moan, back arching off the mattress, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in.
“Rafe, fuck—”
“I know, baby, I know,” he pants against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, every thrust deep and punishing. “You feel what you do to me?” He grits. “Every time I close my fuckin’ eyes it’s you—this pussy, this face, this fuckin’ mouth.”
You pull him down by his chain, crashing your lips to his again. Your teeth scrape his lip, his tongue licking into your mouth. You’re so wet he slides in and out of you with ease, obscene sounds echoing between your bodies.
He grinds down, hips circling, making your breath catch. “Yes,” you cry, clenching around him, and he groans—loud and filthy.
“Look at you. Crying on my cock—”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Rafe’s phone lights up on the edge of the bed, vibrating with an unknown number and a local area code. Your breath catches and Rafe freezes for a moment.
“This some guy from the bar, ain’t it?” He asks, slamming his hips forward so hard your body jolts, skin smacking against his. “Fuck, pretty girl. You made a goddamn mess for me, huh?” He mutters through gritted teeth.
Before you can even answer, he snatches the phone and takes the call.
“WHAT?” He snarls into the speaker, sweat dripping off his brow, bicep flexing as he squeezes your hip, keeping you flush to him.
“Rosie?” You hear on the other end, tentative and confused.
Rafe’s hand cracks against your thigh—sharp and stinging—you scream, breathless and broken, your voice spilling straight into the phone. He clamps his big hand around your throat, using the leverage to slam into you harder.
“YOU HEAR THAT, BITCH?” Rafe snarls as a self-satisfied smile stretches across his lips.
He throws the phone somewhere beside you without bothering to end the call. His hands hook behind your thighs, folding you in half, pinning you to the bed as he drives into you. Your nails claw at the sheets, then at his back, then into his hair, pulling at the roots.
“Rafe—Rafe, holy shit—” He dips down to kiss you—his cock sinking impossibly deep.
“You’re right there. C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me.”
Your head falls back, mouth open in a silent cry as your body tightens, every muscle trembling as he keeps hitting that exact spot.
“C’mon, baby. Let him hear who makes you cum.”
Your orgasm rips through you so hard your back arches off the bed, a choked sob escaping your lips as you clamp around him, shaking under his weight.
“That’s it,” he whispers against your mouth, still thrusting through the aftershocks. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
You’re soaking him, dripping down your thighs, pulsing around him as he keeps fucking you through it, working you toward another.
“Feel that mess you made?” He asks, smugness dripping from every word. “Proud of you, baby. So filthy for me.”
“Feel so good,” you manage, barely forming words.
“One more—just one more. Need you on top.”
He pulls out fast, making you gasp at the loss of him. Rafe wraps his hand around his dick, pumping as he watches you climb on top, hovering over him; delicate fingers circling your clit as he licks his bottom lip.
You spread your thighs, sinking on his tip, taking the first few inches, moving up and down teasingly before you take the rest—eyes locked on his, nails digging into his chest.
You ride him hard, your bodies colliding in messy, rhythmic slaps, the sounds of your pleasure filling the room.
Rafe can’t keep quiet—his moans, his praise, his ragged breathing filling the room. You know if that fucker is still on the phone, he wants him to hear all of it. Rafe grabs your waist, lifting you slightly only to slam up into you.
“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he rasps. “Right fucking now.”
And you do—your belly tightens, the band snaps, and his name tumbles past your lips as your head falls back. Your throat’s ragged from sobbing his name, thighs drenched in sweat and slick, shining under the low light.
“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, reaching up, hooking a hand around the back of your neck to kiss you. You’re breathing heavily and so is he—a breathy chuckle buzzing against your lips.
“Go on,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “Get on your knees.”
Your whole body trembles as you lift off his length, hissing in overstimulation, knees pressing against the bedroom floor. You look up at him from between his legs—mascara smudged, hair wild, eyes glassy, chest rising fast.
Rafe reaches for his phone, grabbing it off the bed. The call ended seconds ago. He taps the screen a few times—then points the camera right at you as you open your mouth, tongue out.
His other hand wraps around his cock, tapping the swollen tip against your tongue; your mouth already pillowy and wet from kissing.
You wrap your lips around him and he groans instantly, jaw dropping, one hand slipping into your hair. You taste yourself on him and moan around his length as you take him deeper.
“Christ… Just—Just like that, baby,” he pants, guiding your head, using your mouth to stroke him slow, then faster. You let him use you—let him fuck your throat—spit slicking your chin as your eyes water and your hands grip his thighs for balance.
The phone is still trained on your lips, trembling in his hand, catching every moan, every gag, every obscene sound.
He bites his lip, hips jerking. “Close, baby. Shit—I’m fuckin’ close—”
He pulls out, stroking hard, warm ropes of cum painting your lips, your tongue, your chest.
Your hands are trembling against his legs, looking up at him as he looks down at you. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he grabs you by your cheeks to get a better look.
His thumb rubs his cum along your lips, slipping it inside your mouth. You suck it clean, releasing it with a filthy pop.
“God, you’re fuckin’ stunning, you know that?” He drawls, voice syrupy and spent, eyes half-lidded and impossibly blue. “Say it again for the camera, angel—who the fuck do you belong to?”
You lean into the lens, licking the corner of your mouth clean, eyes gleaming. “Rafe Cameron.”
Martin has been (choosingly!!) single his whole life and is fully convinced that he doesn't need a girl (or so he thought). Enter Seonghyeon's sister, who just finished studying from abroad, is freshly broken up, and wants nothing to do with men for the rest of her life. A girl that's hot, lowkey a bitch, and doesn't want him at all? Fuck, that's just his type.
MARTIN x F!RDR ━━ band au , best friend's sister trope , profanities , martin is down bad , ftr carmen & yuha h2h , stella h2h as yn's fc
-> if you are seeing a reblog, be sure to check the original post for the realtime update
NOTE ' ok this is quite lengthy lol. planning to make this smau abt 10 parts sooo. btw seonghyeon n keonho r 11th graders, martin juhoon yn n gang are 12th graders that js graduated, and james is a year older taking a gap year. this is all set the summer after highschool!!! lemme know whatchu think abt this chp!
— .✦ ݁˖ HOUSE TOUR . . . single!dad!rafe x kindergarten!teacher!reader
in which . . . a blind date with a single dad? heck, yeah!
warnings . . . awkward rafe (only in the beginning 😛), smut, oral (f receiving), tit sucking, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, praise kink (i think), side note: i'm bad at this
MAN'S BEST FRIEND writing marathon . . . fic #11
— this concept is fully inspired by @delilahsturniolo !
the fancy restaurant was everything you had expected. never once were you able to go there by yourself, so when you were set up in a blind date by one of your friends in this specific restaurant, you know you just have to do it. that's how you get yourself waiting for a man, almost leaving when it took you two glasses of drink finished in the span of time.
you got up from your seat, already walking away from the reserved table as you sigh to yourself thinking that you've been stood up when a voice calls out from behind you making you turn on your heel. "how long have you been waiting?" he was out of breath, trying to keep himself composed, "i'm so sorry, something came up last minute and i didn't have your number. i'm such an idiot!"
your mouth were agape, not once expecting for this to happen as you stand there in silence. "please, have a seat." he calls out, already making his way to your side before pulling your chair back out for you to sit. he fixes his tie right after sitting down, trying his best not to be awkward—and failing—apologizing once more, "i'm truly sorry. this wasn't apart of my plans at all."
seeing how nervous he looks, you try your best to assure him, "it's okay, i understand." with a smile that made him falter slightly when he made eye contact with you. "let's—let's order first?" he asks, scratching his eyebrow as he calls for the waiter. the both of you spent the next few minutes ordering, him telling you to order whatever you want even if it's too much because he had made you wait. you refused at first—acting like you are—but ended up ordering half the menu.
the two of you were left alone right after, him clearing his throat as he try to start a conversation. "what do you do for a living?" he asks, and you can see how he's trying not to curse himself out for asking the most boring question ever, holding in your own laughter at how cute he's being. "i'm a kindergarten teacher," you nodded to yourself and his eyes widened slightly as if he wasn't expecting it at all. "shocking, i know."
"what? no—i didn't mean—" he stutters, thinking that he had screwed everything up all because he couldn't hide his own reaction. taking a deep breath, "it's not shocking. i just didn't think that a kindergarten teacher would go out on dates like this, you know?" that made you laugh, did he think that someone with an occupation like you doesn't have a personal life? "i messed up again, didn't i?" he closed his eyes in embarrassment when he sees you laughing at him.
"we do get a little too caught up in our work, if that's what you're trying to say." you're smiling ear to ear now, trying to suppress your own laughter as you bit on your lower lip. he sigh, "i'm actually so bad at this because it's been a long time since the last date i've been to." as he shook his head with a smile tugging on his lips, looking at you now. you couldn't help yourself, but stare into his eyes—beautiful eyes—as you listen to him talk.
"and how did it end?" you softly ask, chin propped on your palm with your elbow on the table. "it didn't end well." he hesitated at first, rethinking every decision he's about to make before letting out a breath, "and before this go any further, i think i should tell you—or warn you—" both your hands were on the table now as you wait for him to continue, a bit nervous from the way he's acting. "i have a daughter."
"i'm a single dad," he closes his eyes then, "you can leave now if you want, i'm just telling you now so that you won't feel like i'm lying—" you stopped his rambling by taking his hand in yours, making him look at you. "i appreciate you telling me now," you started, "but i really don't mind." if anything, it only turns you on even more. a responsible man? yes, please. your answer made him smile almost too widely, his teeth now showing. "really?" he was in disbelief.
"yeah, it's not like you're a serial killer or something." a beat of silence, "or are you one, too?" you awkwardly add, your smile dropping comically that it made him laugh. he shook his head, "i can assure you that i'm not,"
"well, that's a relief." you let out a sigh, all the awkwardness melting away now that his nervousness seems to fade away as he continue laughing.
dinner went well, you learned many things about him—some of them being unexpected—and you tell him things about you just as much. when you ask him about his daughter, he would tell you everything about her with nothing, but fondness in his eyes like she was everything to him—she is.
the night air hits your bare shoulders when the two of you step out of the restaurant, walking side by side along the sidewalk in a comfortable silence. "so," you started, and he hummed, "so," dragging the word out before stopping in his tracks to look at you. "i should get going," you can almost see the disappointment in his face when you say it, clearly not wanting the night to end.
"yeah," he scratches the back of his head, looking away from you rather awkwardly. you hummed, kissing his cheek as you tell him goodbye—you can see him turning red just a bit—already pulling out your phone before walking away. "wait—" his voice calls you out, his footsteps getting closer towards you yet again. "how are you going home?"
you show him the screen to your phone, "uber." as you try to continue what you were doing, but he stopped you before you could go any further. "let me send you home."
"really?" you ask in disbelief, never experiencing this type of date before. most guys you went on a date with were pretty much assholes, never once caring about you after the date ended because in their exact same word, you're the most boring person they had gone out with. "yeah," he says almost breathlessly, already leading you to his car.
the drive was surprisingly wasn't filled with awkward silence as he try to converse with you—you thought that it was kinda cute of him—and you telling him the directions to your house. you don't know why, but you actually trusted him in taking you home, even telling him the exact address to your house without a doubt. the car came to a stop, the two of you sitting there in silence before you turn to look at him.
"thank you for dinner, i had a really great time." you hummed as you nod towards him. both his hands were still on the steering wheel—like he was holding himself back from doing something he shouldn't, "i had a great time, too." and as if he had remembered something, he took off his seatbelt, telling you to wait before rounding the car to your side to open the door for you.
you chuckled when he held his hand out for you to take, "thank you," but he didn't let go of your hand even after you had gotten out, with you not making any effort to do so, too. as if something had strike up an encouragement inside you, "do you want to come in?"
his silence scared you, thinking that he's probably thinking that you're weird for even asking that on a first date. "it's okay if you don't want to—i was just, you know," it's your turn to trip over your words now, already trying to pull your hand away from his, but he had only tighten his hold on yours. "i'm sorry that was so—" you tried again, but before you can finish your rambling, he's already leaning in for a kiss—it was almost rushed, both his hands holding your face now—you can hear him whispering "fuck it" to himself as if to reassure himself.
you melted almost immediately into the kiss, arms wrapping themselves around his neck as you pull him closer. he backed you up until your back hits his car, his hand going down to pick up one of your thighs to hold them against his waist as the other one went down to your waist to pull you closer against him that you can feel his chest against yours—his heart beating so fast it was actually turning you on knowing that it's from the effect you have on him.
that's what led the two of you here—you laying flat on your back with your dress pushed up your waist as he bury his face there, in between your legs—your panties were basically ripped off from you, leaving you bare in front of him. the buttons to his shirt were undone, tie left forgotten as he grip your thighs to pull you closer with his tongue diving into you like a man starving.
you can feel yourself getting closer, moaning out his name as your fingers went down into his hair, "'m so close, rafey—" you whine out, pulling him closer. he can sense it from the way you're pulsing around his tongue that you're close, but before anything could happen, he pulls away from you making you whimper out of frustration—he was teasing you.
"need to feel you around me when you do, yeah?" you can see the smirk plastered on his face as he kisses his way up from your inner thighs to your stomach, pushing the dress further up with him. he stopped in his tracks when he sees your bare chest—nipples hardening from the air hitting your skin—pulling away just to get a better look at you. "beautiful,"
and without a warning, he latches his mouth around one of your breasts—tongue swirling around your nipple—making you arch your back, urging him closer as his hand went up to cup the other one. you were a mess under him, hands going to his shoulders as you grip onto his shirt. he pulls away for just a second to shrug his shirt off, throwing it somewhere around the room just to let you mark him properly.
you can feel him leaving marks here and there before switching to the other side of your breast, but you couldn't care less at that moment. his grunts against your skin made your whole body shook, feeling too much at the moment.
when he had given your breasts enough of his attention, he pulls away to kiss you—deep—making you moan into the kiss when you feel his tongue moving against yours. that's when he fully takes your dress off of you, leaving you bare in front of him. his stare made you falter slightly, moving your hands to cover yourself up just for him to stop you with a click of his tongue, "no hiding from me."
you swear you felt yourself getting wetter if that's even possible at that point.
not wasting any second, he unbuckle his belt before pushing his pants down along with his boxer, your mouth falling open to the sight of him. "you're drooling," he chuckled, hand going down to hold you by the chin so you're looking at him and it only made you even more breathless. lining himself up to your entrance, you gasp when he nudge his head in.
"are you okay?" his voice was soft, opposite of what the two of you're doing as he brushes your hair away from your face with his free hand. "mhm," you managed to let out, nodding your head as you look at him, but he shook his head as he pull away from your entrance and you whine at the loss. "use your words, baby." you bit your lower lip to the nickname, closing your eyes just to keep yourself composed.
"yes—'m okay," you whimpered, already shifting yourself closer to him that it made the smirk on his face wider. without any warning, he pushes himself into you—inch by inch—burying himself deep into you. your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, hands reaching out for him blindly. he leaned down, peppering your face with kisses to distract you before moving inside you.
it felt so good, you thought, but it wasn't enough. "faster, please," you whine out, arms wrapping themselves around his neck. he didn't say anything, wrapping your thighs around him tighter as he moves, the sound 'plap, plap, plap' filling the space of your room the faster he gets. you can feel him trailing kisses everywhere he can reach, leaving marks here and there as your nails scratch the skin on his back—the pain urging him closer.
"fuck, you feel so good." he grunts out, forehead dropping to your shoulder when he feels you clenching around him. you can feel him getting closer, not missing the way he's pulsing inside you. without another thought, you lock your ankles around him to stop him from pulling out.
"need to feel you inside me, rafe—" you whine out, pulling him closer to kiss him and instead of slowing down, he went faster as one of his hands went down to where the two of you are connected to circle his thumb around your clit. you were seeing stars at that point, head spinning as nonsense keep tumbling their way out of your mouth.
"shit," he whimpered out, his forehead dropping onto yours as he finally spill himself inside you. you can feel him painting your walls white with his release as he slow down his pace, riding you through your highs. when he finally pulls out, you feel yourself clenching around nothing at the loss. his eyes were stuck to the mess between your legs, his own release spilling out of you as he pushes them back in using his own finger making you whine as you try to close your legs.
he laughs softly at that, hovering over you before leaving a kiss on your forehead, "you did so good f'me," and it only made you rub your thighs against each other at the compliment. the awkward guy at the restaurant? gone. you don't know what you had expected from the blind date set up by your friend, but it surely is not this.
from how good it was, you're not even questioning the fact that he's a dad because he had shown you exactly why he is one. are you complaining, though? nope.
ᝰ.ᐟ🖇️ i know, i've said this before, but this will actually be my last time writing smut fr fr i'm so bad at it ✌️ also, what do we think about this pairing? 🤔
the face bsf!rafe first made when he saw the bikini picture you posted from your day at the beach
“fuck,” he whimpered softly, jaw slack as he desperately rutted his aching cock into his fist, angry tip leaking with pre-cum as his eyes flickered over the phone screen.
he felt like such a fuckin creep, getting off to his own best friend’s instagram pictures. he couldn’t help it though; not with the way your ass was hanging out of the bottom of your suit, tan lines clearly visible. and most definitely not with the way your tits were spilling out of your bikini top, the wet material clinging onto the soft curves of your breasts.
he couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like to fuck them; his tip coming to barely brush between your lips after every thrust, how he’d make you part your lips and lick at the stickiness that would string off.
“sh-hit,” he moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and brows furrowing as he picked up his pace, tightening his hand a little - trying to imagine it as you fluttering around him instead.
“fuckfuckfuckfuck, mmmh shit-” he whined, biting down on his lip to quiet himself.
his hand moved frantically for more friction, the cool of the ring on his index finger only bringing more effect to the warm pool in his stomach.
“need it y/n, shiit, wan’ to cum.” he groaned under his breath, his blue eyes opening to look back at your picture. but this time, a small glint in the sun caught his attention.
sitting beautifully on your neck was a gold necklace he had gotten you on your birthday, a little ‘r’ pendant hanging just out of reach from your cleavage. how the fuck did he not notice it before? a flare of possessiveness bloomed in his chest, n he felt the familiar rush of heat course through him.
he came hard, the spurts of slick painting his chest and stomach; his hips stuttering and abdomen flexing.
as he slowly came down from his high, body spent and limp against his mattress, he silently made a decision - he was definitely gonna make you take that post down.
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you and rafe had been going on and off for months since your breakup. you don’t even remember why you broke up, but you know it was over something stupid—or maybe because you both had anger issues and matched each other’s fucked-up personalities so well it turned into a yelling fit every day.
so you just decided one day that you’d be on and off. currently, you haven’t seen him for a whole month because, again, the asshole is god knows where. he just said he ‘needed to go somewhere.’
one ring—on the second, he’s already answered.
“hi, pretty.” you can hear that annoying smirk on his face.
“hi, sexy.” and you’d be lying if the fucker’s voice didn’t make you flush.
“what’s up? it’s probably late for you.”
“uh huh, just calling to say goodnight.”
that made him pause. you’ve never called him to say goodnight—not even a text ever since your breakup officially broke things off.
“uh—right—okay, fuck, what game are you playing now?” he’s pacing. literally. the way you have him stressed 24/7 should be studied, because you always pull some bullshit on him.
“nothing! i swear, just wanted to say it.” you giggle, waiting for him to answer.
“is this a test?” he mumbles.
“whattttt no, wanna be nice for once, aren’t you gonna say it back though?” you try to bite down your giggles.
after a long pause he says it “goodnight, sweetheart.” and then softer, “for the record, i really fucking miss you. and this place sucks.”
knowing he’s not gonna elaborate on the “place,” you don’t say anything.
“i just recorded that and i’m showing it to everyone,” you tease, biting your lip to hide your smile.
“please do,” he says, voice low, a smile creeping in, “i want everyone to know how gone i am for you.”
you laugh quietly into your pillow, still grinning like an idiot. “gone for me, huh? you sound dramatic.”
“yeah, well,” he says, his voice rough with a tired kind of fondness, “you make me that way.”
you roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “don’t go all soft on me now, country club.”
“shut up,” he groans, but he’s smiling. you can feel it.
there’s a long pause—comfortable, stretched out between your breathing and the static hum of the call.
“so, when are you coming back?” you ask quietly.
“soon,” he says. “as soon as i can.”
“liar.”
“maybe,” he admits, a low chuckle in his throat. “but i’ll make it up to you. promise.”
he doesn’t hang up right away—just listens for a while, the two of you lingering in that soft silence like neither wants to let go first.
“night, pretty,” he says finally.
you smile against your pillow. “goodnight, asshole.”
the call ends, but you’re still smiling when your phone buzzes again—a text from him:
rafe: on a second thought delete that recording. i meant what i said, but i’m not letting random people hear that shit.
you laugh to yourself, typing back:
you: too late. it’s already on my public story <3
yeah ward was gonna have to ask someone else to do his dirty work for him cuz he was going home tonight.
.𖥔 ݁ SYNOPSIS . after getting publicly broken up with because of a misspread rumor, you move away to "heal" and "start over". when you come back after months and see your ex and said person—who spread those rumors about you—getting closer each day, you realize maybe you shouldn't have ever come back. and it definitely doesn't help when your ex starts giving you mixed signals about everything.
PAIRING ex!jake x fem!reader
FEATURING aespa ningning, riize shotaro, nct haechan, le sserafim yunjin +enhypen
TAGS smau (+written) ; crack ; university au ; lots of miscommunication ; dumbass jake ; cringey moments ; cliche 𝓦 none that I can think of other than suggestive comments?
"you've been playing with my patience since this morning" rafe huskily murmured in your ear as he thrusted into you without any mercy, your pathetic whimpers only increasing his desire to see you ruined beneath him for the rest of the night. "acting like a fucking—" a grunt broke the sentence. "— a fucking jealous bitch, mhm? isn't that true?"
to your lack of response, he rewarded you with a thrust hard enough that your nails nearly broke under the pressure of your tight grip on the white sheets that would soon be stained by the aftermath of your burning moment of passion. your whole body shook, followed by the bed's headboard hitting the wall - and you were sure it v leave marks on the paint of it. "like i can look at someone who isn't you" he later added with heavy breathing,
his darkened eyes, which seemed gray at the moment, scanned your face the entire time, enjoying how it changed depending on the pleasure you felt. his gaze then stopped on your swollen and red mouth, and with the thumb of his free hand, he traced your trembling lower lip. "open" he commanded lowly, not even stopping his movements.
rafe could practically feel your reluctance, so he gave you two small pats on the cheek, firm enough to make you understand his seriousness. "open" he repeated, tired of your games. when you finally complied, he simply smirked a little, looking at that perfectly erotic scene before him. he then prepared just the right amount of saliva in his mouth, before spitting precisely into yours, your tongue almost entirely covered in that intruder. his thumb slowly made its way inside your warm mouth, resting on your wet tongue as he smeared all his saliva on the muscle, his head tilted as if he was treating a piece of fucking art and needed concentration.
he then hummed contentedly, and as he did, he could feel his orgasm building up, balls tightening. with his own fingers placed under your chin, he made your mouth again, watching you swallow because you already that was what he wanted. "see? you can be a fuckin’ good girl when you want it. you jus need to make me crazy" he said, words mixed with low groans as the hand he'd used beforewent to encircle your neck for a little more stability.
"i need to cum, please" your sweet voice finally reached his ears, which made him raise an eyebrow as his intention was already to release himself into you. but for you? he still didn't know whether to let you come or not, whether to make your punishment worthy or let himself be fucked by your big, bastard eyes that were begging him so good.
"let me come first, yeah? then I'll see what to do with you" he simply told you as his head fell back in total pleasure, and in response you only cried out his name again once. not that he cared too much, though, because the white of his cum had already colored your insides before you could even protest. bad luck for you, he guessed. maybe next time don’t be a total, fuckin whore.
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⋆˚࿔ ⊹˖ BLURB: kook!reader who used to be a pogue, but after falling in love with rafe and depending on him, you eventually become a kook.. because rafe cameron would rather die than be seen dating a pogue.
⋆˚࿔ ⊹˖ CONTAINS: angst, mentions of alcohol and blood, rafe, ruthie, and topper are kinda all bitches lol, manipulation, reader is an ex pouge, no happy ending lolll, not proofread
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“stay down, bitch!”
i hear my boyfriend’s voice roar while i come back to the golf course with a drink in hand. i furrow my brows in confusion.
a deep groan is heard after rafe, topper, ruthie, and pope come into view. pope is laying on the ground, almost motionless with blood streaming down his mouth.
“oh my god, pope!” my first instinct is to set my drink down and rush over to make sure he’s alright. my hands grip his palm so he won’t go unconscious, but i’m suddenly being pulled away from him.
“baby,” rafe warns me with a stern voice.
he turns me around, placing his hands on my bare shoulders as he shakes his head. i look down at his grip on me and notice his already bruising knuckles.
i don’t change my expression on my face. i keep my brows furrowed, but now, instead of worry, i’m furious.
“don’t help him. fuckin’ pogues shouldn’t even be on our side of the island anyway,” he grunts.
“all we did was ask for one beer since he had so many. there was no need to be rude, was there, pogue? now look at you,” topper kneels down and mocks pope.
Pope has crimson blood dripping down his nose and a red circle surrounding his left eye.
i force myself out of rafe’s grip and turn back to pope. kneeling down, i grab his hand once again and find my phone in my purse.
“what are you doing?” pope could barely let out.
i don’t answer him. instead, i dial the only pogue that didn’t stop talking to me after i started dating rafe and became a kook.
sarah.
“what the fuck are you doing?” ruthie tries to yank my phone out of my hand.
topper scoffs when he sees the contact i was calling. “you’re seriously calling sarah? whose fuckin’ side are you on?”
rafe stays still because he knows what’ll happen later when we get back home. we’ve been over situations like this multiple times and every time, it’s the same argument.
when my family and i first moved to obx, i lived on the cut. i was friends with the others, but i was never really aware of the rivalry between the pogue and kooks until sarah and i became friends and she eventually became a pogue with us.
i met rafe through being sarah’s best friend. i’d come over to her house and talking eventually turned into secret nights in his room. he never wanted us to be anything more, especially in public. despite my friends despising him, i saw beneath all of the pogue and kook rivalry and truly fell in love with him.
when sarah became a pogue, i already knew rafe felt some sort of way about it. him and sarah never really saw eye to eye because of their father, ward. im the only person that rafe has told about his relationship with his dad. the only person he has felt safe enough with this secret.
rafe promised me a life with him. he told me we could finally be public and i wouldn’t have to work anymore since he would provide for me. he moved me into his house and i’ve stayed by his side since then.
being a kook has its advantages, but i’ve always secretly missed my friends. now, i only have rafe. it should be enough, but part of me feels like i was ripped from my life completely.
“that’s enough, top,” rafe pushes topper out of the way. he kneels down beside me and i glare up at him.
he tilts his head as if saying “stop making a scene and give me the phone,” but i don’t.
“sarah, hey! i’m so sorry to do this to you again, but.. please get the others and come down to the country club. pope’s here,” i mumble into the speaker.
before i could say anymore, topper grabs me and ruthie kicks the phone off of my face. i yelp as pain shoots throughout my entire cheek.
“fuck you, ruthie! what the hell is wrong with you?” i scream, but the sound of rafe’s fist hitting topper’s face slightly overpowers it.
topper pushes him back, but rafe’s too strong for the force to move him at all. he’s about to hit again, but i interrupt.
“rafe! i want to go home,” a tear falls down my cheek. “i want to leave and i want you to come with me.. now.”
“pope!” a familiar voice yells out.
i look up and see the other pogues rushing towards pope, who is still laying on the ground, but has been watching the entire time.
seeing them stings a bit. knowing that we can’t be friends anymore brings a pain to my chest because for a long time, they were all i ever knew.
—
the ride home from the golf course was complete silent, but the second we reached home, all of my anger came out.
“what the hell was that, rafe?” i argue as i push the hair away from my face.
“you fuckin’ tell me! you always do this! you always end up choosing their side at the end of the day!” rafe’s voice flares through the hallway.
“choose them? did you forget that i’m a pogue too, rafe?” i scoff.
“no, no. you were a pogue, baby,” he puts the emphasis on “were.” he then shakes his head as if he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “not anymore.. i saved you from that life, remember? i did.”
my brows furrow. “when you offered me a life of full kook, i didn’t think it would be like this. i miss my friends, rafe.”
he shakes his head.
“you have me, baby. what do you need? i can give you anything they can.”
giving up, i close my eyes for a minute and calm myself down before clutching onto his hand and rubbing circles on him.
💬 ── in which you want them but they want her? | ⚠︎ ── oblivious boys still being oblivious, slow burn, lowkey getting into angst territory, still dk about that happy ending l part 1
pairing ── hyung line (individually) x afab reader
nene’s note ── this takes place two weeks after the events of part 1. i wish i could express my anger as i post this, it’s so frustrating being on this app and i’m starting to hate it here, you guys know i’ll always be proper honest here, anyway enjoy💋
