luna's love letters

(Mechanic!Rafe Cameron x Reader – Part 3) NSFW / 18+ / Smut / Soft!Filthy!Rafe / Almost Caught

The quiet hum of the ceiling fan is the only sound in your room, the late afternoon sun bleeding gold across your walls. You’re sprawled on your bed in an oversized tee and underwear, scrolling through your phone, still flushed from the memory of last night, your lips wrapped around Rafe’s cock, the way he tasted, the low groan he made when you swallowed him deeper.

He was supposed to be at the marina with your dad until evening, elbows deep in tools and boat grease, so you didn’t expect him.

Which is why you freeze when you hear the soft tap at your window.

You peek through the curtain and nearly drop your phone.

Rafe.

He’s leaning against the siding, coveralls unzipped and hanging around his waist, chest bare, golden from the sun. His hair is messy, and his knuckles are stained with oil. But his expression?

Soft. Almost shy.

You open the window, whisper-yelling, “Are you insane? I thought you were with my dad!”

He grins, climbing in like he’s done it a hundred times. “I know,” he says, not even pretending to care. “He sent me home early. Thought I’d stop by before he gets home. You looked like you missed me last night.”

You cross your arms, heart racing. “And you couldn’t just text?”

“I could’ve,” he says, stepping closer. “But then I couldn’t do this.”

He kisses you slow.

Not frantic or hard like you were used to. Soft.

His hands cup your face gently, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin. His thumb brushes your jaw. His lips move with a kind of restraint that scares you a little…because this? This isn’t just sex. It’s something else.

When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, searching yours. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “After last night?”

You blink. “Yeah…why?”

He shrugs, looking away for a second like he’s nervous. “Just wanna make sure I’m not pushing you too far. I know I talk shit, but... I care, alright? About how you feel.”

That shouldn't hit as hard as it does.

You swallow. “I’m okay. More than okay.”

His smirk returns, and your knees weaken. “Good. 'Cause I’ve been thinking about you all damn day. Couldn’t stop.”

Your breath catches when he slides a hand down your side, fingers slipping under your tee. But his voice stays low, soothing.

“Let me take care of you.”

Before you can speak, he's guiding you backward onto the bed, crawling over you with that mix of reverence and heat. He kisses your thighs like he’s worshipping you, not like he’s about to devour you.

“I wanna feel your mouth again,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hip. “But I need to taste you too. Wanna make you fall apart while you’re sittin’ on my face.”

Your body jolts at his words, and he laughs, soft but filthy.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I know you want to. C’mon, baby. Ride my face.” He pulls your panties down your legs and you suck in a breath.

You let him flip you gently, your knees on either side of his head. His cock is already throbbing. You wrap your lips around him as his tongue meets your soaked folds.

It’s overwhelming, how gentle he is with his hands, the way he spreads you open and hums into your pussy, slow and deliberate, savoring every flick of his tongue like he’s starving for it.

You try to focus, to take him deep again, but your thighs are already trembling.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans beneath you. “Tastes so fuckin’ good. Love this pussy. Love how wet you get for me.”

You whimper around his length, his filthy words heating your skin from the inside out.

Then….

The sound of the front door opening downstairs.

You freeze, lifting your head. “Rafe!”

His arms tighten around your thighs. “Don’t stop,” he murmurs, tongue flicking faster. “Keep goin’. Bet I can make you come before he even gets up the stairs.”

“Rafe, he’ll hear-”

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you see stars.

You bury your face in his stomach, trying to muffle your moans, trying to breathe, but he’s relentless. Determined. He groans into you like he wants your orgasm more than his own.

Footsteps creak up the stairs.

You shake your head desperately, hips bucking.

He lets out a low, teasing growl. “That’s it, baby. Come on. Come for me. Be a good girl and soak my fuckin’ face.”

And you do.

With a stifled cry and your hands fisted in the sheets, you fall apart, pulse pounding, thighs shaking. You collapse onto his body, panting, barely aware of anything until…

Knock knock.

“Sweetheart?” your dad calls. “I’m starting dinner. You hungry?”

Rafe kisses the inside of your thigh, slow and possessive.

You clear your throat, struggling for breath. “Y-Yeah! I’ll be down in a minute!”

“Alright,” your dad says. “Don’t take too long.”

Silence.

Then Rafe chuckles, voice hoarse. “Close one.”

You glare down at him, cheeks blazing. “You’re insane.”

Rafe Cameron x Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! praise kink, possessive Rafe, dirty talk, public sex, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex

The warm night air clung to your skin, salty and sweet, as you leaned against the cold railing of the yacht. Looking out as the moon reflected off the gentle waves, a trail of silver dancing across the water. Somewhere below deck, the thump of music still pulsed from the afterparty, but up here, it was just you and him.

Rafe’s hands were on you before you even heard him approach. Big palms sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel how hard he was already, pressing up behind you through those loose swim shorts he hadn’t bothered to change out of.

“Couldn’t stop lookin’ at you all night,” he murmured into your ear, voice low and possessive, like a warning and a promise. “That little dress… teasing me. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You didn’t even get the chance to answer. One hand gripped your hip tightly while the other slid up to cup your breast through the thin fabric, thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaked under his touch.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he groaned, rocking his hips into you. “My good girl… always so ready for me.”

He spun you around and pinned you against the railing, his thigh nudging your thighs open with no hesitation. His rough hands pushed your dress up to bunch around your waist. The cool breeze kissed your heat, but Rafe’s hands were already warming you back up—tracing, teasing, gripping. He sank to his knees like he was worshipping you, dragging your panties down with his teeth.

“Goddamn,” he growled as he looked up at you from between your thighs. “You’re so wet for me already. Look at this perfect little pussy.”

He licked and sucked like he was starving, tongue swirling around your clit before diving back down to fuck you with his mouth. Filthy, wet sounds echoed into the night as he devoured you shamelessly. You threw your head back, eyes fluttering closed.

But he didn’t want that. One of his hands reached up, grabbing your jaw, forcing your gaze back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he growled, mouth glistening with your arousal. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum.”

You were shaking now, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right. His mouth returned to your clit, sucking, licking, he was relentless, and that coil deep in your stomach tightened fast.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. So good for me. Taking everything I give you, just like I knew you would.”

You came hard, thighs trembling around his head, your cry swallowed by the wind off the ocean. Rafe held you through it, tongue easing you down, kissing you like you were something to be savoured. And even after, he didn’t move, not right away. He rested his head on your thigh, breath hot against your skin, fingers still lazily tracing your soaked core.

Then he rose, slow and meaningful, gaze dragging up your body like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck you or worship you. He yanked his shorts down in one rough motion, cock hard and heavy, lining himself up against your entrance, eyes wild with lust, but soft with something deeper. Like awe. Like you were something holy he still wanted to ruin.

“Gonna fuck you right here, where anyone could see. Let ‘em. Let ‘em know who you belong to,” he hissed, sliding into you in one brutal, delicious thrust. You cried out, gripping his shoulders as he started to pound into you, one hand on your throat, the other gripping your thigh open.

“Taking me so good. You’re so tight, baby—fuck—you were made for me.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, only moan and take it as he fucked you like he owned you, whispering filth against your skin. “My perfect girl. You’re everything. No one can fuck you like I do. No one else could make you feel like this.”

When you clenched around him, he growled, slamming deeper. “That’s it—squeeze my cock, baby. Show me how good I fuck you. Cum for me again.”

And you did, hard, falling into another orgasm as he spilled inside you, coating your walls, with a low, broken groan of your name, biting your shoulder like he needed to mark you.

And even when it was over, when you were panting, sore, and full of him, Rafe was still whispering into your hair.

Brothers best friend!Rafe Cameron x Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! soft dom Rafe, teasing, female masturbation

You should’ve locked the door. But you didn’t.

Your cheeks heat as your eyes flick over to Rafe Cameron, your brother’s best friend, the guy you’ve crushed on since you were too young to know better. He’s standing in the doorway of your room, eyebrows raised, lips curled into that signature smirk.

You still have a hand between your thighs. Your heart is racing, a deer caught in headlights.

His voice is low, amused when he finally speaks. “Didn’t know you played with yourself thinking about me, sweetheart.”

Your heart stutters violently. “Rafe—what are you doing here?”

He steps in, door clicking shut behind him. “Looking for your brother. He’s not here.” His eyes drop to the shape of your hand beneath the waistband of your panties. “But you are.”

You're scrambling to sit up, yanking your covers over your lap, but he just chuckles and walks closer. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your voice is a whisper. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Maybe not.” His hand braces beside your leg as he leans over you on the bed. “But I saw the way your legs were shaking before you noticed me. You were close, weren’t you?”

Your face is burning. Your thighs press together, instinctive and ashamed, but he tuts softly.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the edge of the duvet. “C’mon. Let me help.”

“Rafe…” You want to say. So many years you’ve craved his touch, imagined he was the one brushing his fingers across your skin but this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

“I’ll be good. Won’t even take your panties off.” His voice is soft and coaxing. “Just wanna make you feel better. Let you come like you were trying to before.”

Your lips part in shock, but your hips betray you, shifting slightly toward his touch.

“Sweet girl,” he coos. “You want it, don’t you?”

You nod, just once, like that's all you can manage.

He grins, but it’s not cocky; it’s dark. Like he needs this. His teeth scrape against his bottom lip, eyes trailing over you. A predator eyeing up its prey.

“Lie back,” he says, and you do. Trembling. Anticipating.

He drags the blanket down slowly, exposing the damp spot on your thin cotton panties. He groans quietly at the sight. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, but his hand cups you gently, palm warm and broad, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“Relax, baby. I got you.”

He rubs slow, teasing circles over the wet fabric, not enough friction, just enough to drive you mad.

“Look at how sensitive you are,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your face. “Barely touched you and you’re already squirming.”

“Rafe,” you gasp, lifting your hips.

He presses down more firmly, his fingers rolling over your clit in deliberate, lazy movements, never slipping beneath the fabric.

“That feel good?” he asks, voice low and thick.

You nod desperately, hands clutching your sheets.

“Yeah? My pretty girl likes getting off with her panties on, huh?” He chuckles darkly, thumb circling just a little faster. “Could’ve had this a long time ago if you’d just asked.”

Your thighs start to shake. Your stomach tightens.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he breathes, eyes devouring every twitch of your body. “Let me feel you come for me, baby. Want it so bad.”

You’re panting now, hips moving against his palm shamelessly. His voice is in your head, echoing through your blood.

“Such a good girl for me. So needy. So fucking wet.”

He presses a kiss to your thigh, then another. You cry out softly when his pressure increases. Needing more of him.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Gotta be quiet, yeah? Don’t want your parents hearing how good I make you feel.”

The thought causes a shiver to run down your spine. The forbiddenness of it all. Your back arches, thighs clamping around his hand. He groans again.

“Jesus, you’re gonna soak right through these,” he whispers, dragging his knuckles over the slick fabric. “Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

You do. As if your body's wired to obey his every word.

The orgasm hits sharp and sudden, tearing through you as he keeps rubbing, cooing softly while your thighs quiver and your breath stutters.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praises, still stroking gently. “So fucking pretty when you fall apart.”

You’re boneless beneath him, panting, dazed, and he’s just looking at you, like he’s memorizing every second.

“You gonna let me do it without these on next time?” he asks softly, kissing your knee as he traces the band of your panties. “Next time you’re all worked up and lonely?”

You nod, breathless.

Rafe Cameron x Reader sfw, warnings! cheesy drunken behaviour lol

The party’s long past its peak.

The bonfire’s burned down to a lazy orange glow, casting flickering light over scattered red solo cups. The Bluetooth speaker is still playing a slow indie track, the lyrics getting lost under the crash of waves.

You step away from the group, the sand cool under your bare feet as you wander toward the darker edge of the beach. The air smells like smoke and saltwater, your hoodie barely protecting you from the breeze that is coming off the sea. Your shoulders relax as you escape into the shadows, it feels good to be away from the noise for a second.

Then you see it, a body, half curled in the sand, still as a rock.

You freeze. He’s not moving.

Your chest tightens as you approach slowly, cautiously, until you're kneeling beside him. His head’s turned away, face buried in the crook of his arm, and for one terrifying second, you think he’s—

“Rafe?” you whisper, reaching out.

Your fingertips touch his cheek. His skin is warm.

Then....he stirs.

He lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted like he’s trying to remember how to breathe. The knot in your stomach loosens, relief flooding in.

He blinks at you once. Twice.

“Y/N…” he slurs, voice soft and full of something you don’t recognize. “Hey.”

He smiles.

Not his usual cocky grin. This one is sleepy. Sweet. Maybe even a little sad.

You blink, stunned. Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, the hothead with too many demons and not enough patience, is looking at you like you're the first good thing he’s seen all night.

“You scared me,” you murmur. “I thought you weren’t breathing.”

He doesn’t respond, just lets his head flop back into the sand with a small groan. “M’fine,” he mumbles. “Just… tired.”

“You can’t sleep here,” you say gently, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “You’ll choke on your own puke or something.”

“No puke,” he insists, eyelids heavy. “Swear. I’m good.”

You sigh, kneeling next to him. “Rafe. Come on. Sit up.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like you’re asking him to do way too much, but eventually he shifts, arms clumsily propping himself up.

And then, without any warning, he leans into you.

His arms loop around your waist, and he slumps forward, burying his face into your neck like it’s the only safe place left in the world.

You freeze.

This is not the Rafe Cameron you know. He’s an angry drunk, you'd been witness to numerous drunken fights, he was always so tense like he’s on the edge of snapping. But now? He’s soft. Warm. Heavy against you, like he’s letting go for the first time in forever.

His breath ghosts against your skin, and you find yourself… stroking his hair. Feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen, liking that you can have this effect on him.

You can feel him mumbling something into your throat, just noise at first. Then a slurred, “…You smell nice…”

You snort softly. “You’re drunk.”

He nods into you, then lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy as they search your face. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “Like, really. I always thought that.”

Your eyebrows raise, but before you can say anything, he leans forward, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders, pressing a soft, sloppy kiss to your cheek. Then another. Then your jaw.

Your pulse skitters.

“Rafe—”

His lips brush close, too close to yours.

You turn your head with a laugh, your cheeks flushed.

He pulls back slightly, frowning like a kicked puppy.

“Why’d you do that?” he pouts, eyes narrowed. “I was bein’ sweet.”

“You were trying to kiss me.”

“So?”

You bite your lip, amused. “You’re Sarah’s brother.”

“And your her friend,” he mumbles. “Still like you.”

You sigh, brushing his hair back again, a little too gently for someone who should know better.

“Let’s get you some water,” you say, trying to stand, but his arms come back around your waist, tighter this time, like he’s not ready to let you go yet.

He rests his head against your chest again.

“Just a minute,” he whispers.

And for some reason, you give it to him.

Rafe Cameron x Shy!Reader

sfw, warnings! Light intimidation, possessive behaviour, tension, language.

Possible prequel....This is kinda lame and rushed.

You don’t belong here.

The words echo through your head the second you walk through the entrance of the Cameron’s estate. Too many pastel polos, smug smiles, and the weight of every eye landing on your second hand dress like it had no right to be here.

You cling to your purse like a lifeline. Sarah told you it would be ‘lowkey’. She said “It will just be a few people.”

Sarah lied.

There’s music. Loud conversations. Beer bottles and boat shoes. And standing by the stairs like he owns the place, because he kinda does, is Rafe Cameron.

He spots you immediately. Of course he does.

You try not to look, but you feel his gaze, sharp and unrelenting, like the hot sun on already burning skin.

And then he moves.

You’re halfway to the living room, having spotted Sarah, eyes on the floor, when his voice cuts through the noise like a blade.

“Well, well. Didn’t know Sarah was taking in charity cases now.”

Your whole body stiffens.

You turn slowly. You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do. Because it’s him. Because he’s always been like this with you, always so mean, cruel, and yet interested. And you don’t know which part is worse.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He raises an eyebrow. Saunters closer.

“Didn’t know you could speak. Usually just see you hiding behind your friends like their little lap dog.”

You flinch.

He notices and smirks.

That cruel, perfect mouth of his quirks up like he’s just won a game you didn't know you were playing.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” you mumble. “I’ll go.”

You try to walk past him, but his hand shoots out, catching your wrist. His palm is warm and soft.

“Go where?” he asks, voice low now. “You just got here.”

You look up at him, bad move.

He’s tall—so much taller up close. His blonde hair is pushed back like he’s run his hands through it, but a single strand has escaped, curled across his forehead. His eyes are a piercing glacial blue, and that smile is wolfish and wild, like he knows you’re intimidated and loves it.

“I just… I don’t want to bother anyone.”

“You’re not bothering me.”

That surprises you.

Your brows knit. He sees the confusion. His hand tightens on your wrist just a little, like he knows you’re about to bolt.

“You think I came over here because I was bothered?” he asks, tilting his head. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t want you here, you’d be gone already.”

There’s something dangerous in his tone. Not just cocky, something threatening. But you’ve never been the kind of girl to stand her ground in the face of danger. You ran.

Your eyes flick to the front door again.

He notices that, too.

“You’re scared of me,” he says, not as a question.

You swallow.

“I…” you trail off. Because lying to Rafe feels stupid. But telling the truth? That’s feels even worse.

And suddenly, something shifts.

His grip loosens.

His smirk fades, just barely.

And when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. Lower. Like it’s just for you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blink up at him.

That doesn’t sound like Rafe. That sounds…human.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. Not at you, but at himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re just so—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

He looks at your dress, the white cotton hem brushing against your thighs. At the way your fingers tremble just slightly around your purse.

“You’re not like them,” he says.

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m not.”

He nods once. “That’s why I notice you.”

That admission sits between you. Heavy. Dangerous.

You don’t know what to say. You should walk away. But your feet stay rooted. And he steps closer. So close you can feel the heat radiating from his body. A part of you wanted to lean into the warmth.

“You’re Sarah’s friend,” he says. “That means you come around. Which means I see you.”

His voice drops even lower. "A lot of people see you." He pauses, eyes scanning your face, “And I don’t like the way the other guys look at you.”

Your breath catches.

Is he jealous?

“Why?” you whisper.

He shrugs, but it’s forced.

“Because they don’t know what to do with a girl like you. You’re soft. Quiet. Not made for people like us.”

“Then why are you still talking to me?”

That gets him.

His eyes flash with something hungry. Possessive.

He leans in until his mouth is right next to your ear.

“Because I want to see what happens when I stop pretending I don’t want you.”

Your pulse skitters. Goosebumps travel down your arms.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

His breath brushes your neck.

“Yeah, you are.”

Then he lets go.

Takes a full step back. Runs a hand over his jaw, almost regretful.

“Go find Sarah,” he says, voice rough.

And with that, he walks away.

Mechanic!Rafe x Innocent!Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! oral (m receiving), dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, possessiveness, corruption kink, smoking.

Part one

summary, he ruined you once on that workbench, leaving you messy, marked, and aching for more. Now you want to please him, and he’s more than happy to teach you how to.

The garage was quieter in the evening. Golden light slanted through the cracked roll-up doors, casting long shadows on the oil-stained floor. A breeze rustled the chainlink fence out back. You found him there leaning against the wall behind the shop, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette between grease-dark fingers.

He looked up when he heard your steps, that slow smirk curling his mouth like he already knew what was on your mind.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he rasped, voice low like smoke. “You waitin’ on me, baby?”

You nodded, lips shy, but eyes hungry. “I wanted to… thank you.”

He raised a brow. “That so?”

Your eyes dropped to his jeans, to the faint bulge beneath them, and your cheeks flushed. He raised is eyebrows, biting his lip as his eyes trailed down your body.

He took another slow drag, watching you like a wolf might watch something small and sweet wander too close. Then he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

“You ever done this before?” he asked, voice lazy but hot with interest. His eyebrow tipping up in question as you looked down at his crotch and back up to his eyes.

You shook your head. “No. I… I want you to show me.”

That grin got dangerous.

He crooked a finger, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, angel.”

You stepped up to him, heart hammering. He cupped your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip like he was mapping it. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

You whimpered, nodding.

“Yeah?” he purred. “Want me to teach you how to use that pretty little mouth?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Rafe.”

He chuckled, low and sinful. “Goddamn, you’re cute when you beg.”

He unzipped his jeans slow, dragging them down just enough to free his cock, thick, flushed, already getting hard. Your eyes widened, remembering how he felt inside you. The sight of him now, out in the open like this, made your stomach flip with nerves and want.

“On your knees,” he said, voice all gravel and control.

The dry grass was rough against your bare skin, but you didn’t care. You sank down, hands hovering awkwardly before settling on his thighs.

“Start with your tongue,” he murmured, guiding you closer with a hand in your hair. “Just lick the tip. Nice and slow.”

You did, nervous but eager, flattening your tongue and dragging it across the head of his cock. He hissed out a breath, grip tightening in your hair.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled. “Like that, baby.”

You licked again, this time swirling your tongue around him, tasting the salty smear of pre-cum. He was hot and heavy on your tongue, and the more you touched him, the more your confidence grew. His praise, his sounds, they made you feel powerful.

“Now open that mouth,” he told you, voice rougher now. “Lemme see how much you can take.”

You wrapped your lips around him, easing him in inch by inch. He was big, too big to fit all at once, and your jaw ached almost immediately.

“That’s it,” he groaned, head falling back. “God, you look so good like this. Mouth stretched around my cock, fuckin’ droolin’ already.”

You whimpered around him, feeling spit drip down your chin as he slowly rocked his hips forward, helping you find a rhythm.

“Use your hands, baby,” he guided. “One at the base, yeah — that’s it. Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He looked down at you, eyes blazing, watching every single movement. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, collecting spit, smearing it over your cheek like he wanted to mark you up.

“You were made for this,” he rasped. “Made to be on your knees for me.”

You moaned, desperate to please, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder. His thighs tensed under your hands. He was close. You could feel it.

“You gonna let me cum in your mouth?” he asked, voice strained. “Gonna swallow it like a good girl?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, nodding around his cock.

He grunted, hips jerking. “Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m gonna—shit—”

The first pulse of it hit your tongue, thick and salty, and you swallowed instinctively. He held your head gently, guiding you through it, watching your throat work with a groan that echoed off the back wall.

“Good girl,” he breathed, pulling back slowly. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

You wiped your mouth, still dazed, flushed and wet between your thighs.

He tugged you to your feet, pulling you close, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You alright?”

You nodded, heart still racing. “Did I… do okay?”

He smirked, then leaned in to kiss you. “You did perfect, baby. But now you’ve got me thinkin’.”

“About what?”

He grinned wickedly.

“Next time I’ll bend you over my bike. Out in the open like this, ass up, dress bunched up around your waist… Let the whole fuckin’ neighborhood hear how good I make you scream.”

Your breath caught, picturing it.

And the worst part was…

Jude Bellingham x Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! soft dom Jude, praise, intimate, side position

summary, Jude can’t get enough of you and so it’s no surprise when he wakes up your the first thing on his mind. Soft mornings, slow touches, sleepy whispers. He holds you like you’re everything, and in that moment, you are.

The first thing you noticed was warmth.

Not just the sun bleeding in through the gauzy curtains, but him. Jude was pressed behind you, one arm curled around your waist, chest flush against your back. His body a soft wall of muscle, his breath brushing the nape of your neck.

You smiled before even opening your eyes, instinctively nestling closer. You could feel his heartbeat slow and steady, and the way his fingers had wandered in his sleep, now resting low on your belly, just under the hem of your shirt.

You heard him shift slightly, the beginnings of a hum vibrating in his chest. His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Mm… morning, baby,” he murmured, voice still hoarse and sleep-heavy.

“Morning,” you whispered, not even trying to hide the smile in your voice.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

You felt the way he inhaled deeply, pressing his nose to your shoulder and kissing the bare skin there. One kiss, then another. And another. Slow and aimless, like he had nowhere else to be but wrapped around you.

His hand wandered again, splaying across your stomach and stroking down, over your hip. His fingers traced lazy, absentminded patterns into your skin, but his touch lingered, intentional. You felt him harden slightly behind you.

“You feel so good in the mornings,” he said softly, lips ghosting your ear. “So warm. So soft.”

Your breath hitched as he gently nudged your thighs apart, opening you up just a little more, letting his hand slide between your legs with careful reverence.

“Jude…”

“Shh,” he cooed, already stroking you through your panties with feather-light touches. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, baby.”

His voice always did something to you in the mornings , gravelly, deep, laced with affection. And his hands… God, his hands were magic. Slow and unhurried, he mapped you with his fingers like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

“I love touching you,” he murmured, voice reverent. “Every part of you. Every inch.”

You gasped softly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, brushing his knuckles against your bare skin as he did.

“Can I?” he asked gently, already nudging the tip of his cock against your folds. His hand was stroking up your waist now, thumb brushing under your breast.

You nodded, already aching for him, your hips shifting back against his.

“Please.”

He groaned at that, quiet, deep in his throat, and you felt him line up behind you. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, then your temple.

And then he pushed in.

You both exhaled at the same time, a shared breath, like you were made for this. He filled you slowly, carefully, one hand gripping your hip to keep you steady as he slid all the way in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade. “You’re always so perfect. So wet for me, baby…”

Your fingers curled into the sheets. The stretch burned in the best way, and the angle, from the side, your back pressed to his chest, let you feel all of him.

His hand slid down to hold your thigh again, lifting it slightly to open you up more as he started to move. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, hips rolling in a slow rhythm. The kind that made your toes curl and your breath catch.

You could feel every inch of him. Every soft exhale. Every whisper against your skin.

“You feel that?” he murmured, moving his hand to your lower stomach, pressing just enough for you to feel where he was inside you. “Right here, baby… I’m so deep in you.”

You whimpered, pressing your face into the pillow.

He kissed the back of your neck, slow and sweet. “You take me so well. Always so good for me.”

His hand drifted upward again, cupping your breast now, thumb brushing softly over your nipple. His other hand stayed curled under your neck, holding you close like he needed to anchor himself to you.

You reached back, fingers tangling in his hair as you moaned, arching against him. He was still moving, long, deep strokes, hips flush to yours each time.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, kissing behind your ear. “I wish you could see yourself — the way you look when I’m inside you. When you’re falling apart.”

You trembled, the pleasure building slowly and steadily, wrapping around your spine and sparking in every nerve. He was so gentle with you, every touch full of devotion, like he couldn’t get enough.

“I love waking you up like this,” he whispered, nose buried in your hair. “Love being the first thing you feel in the morning.”

You moaned softly, hips rocking back against him now.

“I’m close,” you breathed, voice shaking. “Jude, I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, his thrusts getting a little deeper, a little more focused. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

He reached down, fingers circling your clit now, expertly guiding you there.

“Come for me, sweet girl.”

You shattered with a soft cry, back arching, his name on your lips. He held you through it, murmuring sweet praise into your skin “That’s it, baby,” and “So fucking good,” and “I love you like this.”

He chased his own release after that, thrusts becoming just a little rougher, breathing ragged now. His hand gripped your waist, and he kissed your shoulder again, lips trembling against your skin.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, and then he came, buried deep, holding you as if you’d disappear otherwise.

The room fell into silence after. Heavy breathing. A lazy sunrise peeking through the window. Jude’s arms wrapped tight around you.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just held you there, your bodies still connected, his nose brushing your shoulder.

“You alright?” he asked, softer now. Barely a whisper.

You nodded, a blissful haze still clinging to your body. “Yeah. More than alright.”

He kissed your temple. “Didn’t mean to wake you up like that…”

You looked back at him over your shoulder. “You really think I’m complaining?”

His smile was sleepy, crooked, and gorgeous. “Didn’t think so.”

He finally pulled out slowly, carefully, and reached over you to grab the blanket, tucking it around your body again before settling back in behind you.

His arm draped across your waist, fingers drawing gentle shapes into your skin.

“You’re everything, you know that?” he whispered against your shoulder. “Everything to me.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “I know.”

He kissed you again, just one last soft kiss against your spine, and pulled you even closer.

kylian x wife!reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! trying for a baby, soft and gentle sex, oral (f receiving)

summary, the sun is setting, the breeze is warm, and you finally tell him you’re ready to start a family.

The villa is quiet, save for the soft rustling of linen curtains drifting in the breeze. The sun is dipping low, painting the entire room in honeyed gold. The ocean glimmers in the distance, and warm light dances across the polished floor, casting long, lazy shadows.

You're both lying on the bed, freshly showered from a late swim, your skin still warm from the sun. Kylian is propped up on his elbow beside you, his eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s memorising it all over again.

He’s been quieter today, softer than usual. Not in a sad way, just thoughtful. His fingers trail down your arm, slow and featherlight.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though there's no one around to hear.

His eyes lift to yours. They’re so full of love it almost knocks the air out of you.

“You,” he murmurs. “You… and how lucky I am. And… the future. Us.”

You already know what he means.

You’ve seen it in the way he looks at children lately, his smile a little more wistful, his gaze lingering a bit longer. You’ve felt it in the way he holds you like he’s ready to build something new with you, something permanent and beautiful.

You reach for his hand and place it flat against your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” you say softly. He stills, eyes locked on yours.

“Kylian… I’m ready. If you still want to try—I want to.”

He blinks like he’s not sure he heard you right. “Are you serious?”

You nod, your voice catching with emotion. “All I know is that I love you. And that I want this, I want this with you. No pressure. No perfect plan. Just… us.”

He leans in and kisses you, slow, deep, reverent. Like he’s pouring every ounce of gratitude, every unsaid “thank you” into your lips. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispers. “I love you. So much.”

His hands are gentle as they move across your body, like he’s rediscovering you all over again, like he’s savoring every second. There’s no rush, only tenderness. The kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

“You okay?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek, watching your every reaction.

You nod, kissing his jaw. “Never been more sure of anything.”

His hand slides down your side, fingers skimming the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. You lift your arms to help him take it off, and soon, he’s pressing his bare chest against yours, skin to skin.

He takes his time, like always, like you deserve to be worshipped. His mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. Each kiss is slow and tender, almost like he’s thanking you. His hand slips between your thighs, teasing over your underwear, already damp with anticipation.

“You’re so wet already,” he breathes, voice low and warm. “God, baby…”

You whimper as his fingers slide over the soaked fabric, then push it aside to find you. He strokes you slowly, deliberately, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face. His thumb brushes your clit in lazy circles, coaxing soft moans from your throat.

“Let me take my time with you,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You nod, gasping softly. “Please…”

He moves down your body, kissing your stomach, your thighs, until he’s nestled between your legs. The first slow drag of his tongue makes you cry out, hips lifting into his mouth. He hums softly, like he’s savoring every taste, every sound you make. His fingers slide inside you as his tongue moves in tandem, drawing you closer and closer until you're trembling.

When he finally pulls away, his mouth shiny with you, he kisses your inner thigh and crawls back up your body.

“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with want. He hooks his fingers in the side of your underwear, slowly pulling the fabric down your legs, lips following as he kisses down to your ankle.

He comes back up, dark eyes peering into yours. He strokes his finger along your cheek, watching the flutter of your eyelashes as you close your eyes. The feel of his warm skin against yours is familiar, and you wish you could stay like this forever.

He slides inside you slowly, stretching you with that delicious, familiar fullness. You both gasp, his forehead pressed to yours, hands holding your hips like he’s anchoring himself in the moment.

Nothing rushed. Just you and him, rocking together in the fading light. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he moves deep and slow, every stroke like a promise.

He whispers to you the whole time, how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how lucky he feels that you’re his. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, your mouth. You whisper back, your heart open, your body open, just for him.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

Your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. “I love you too. So much it hurts.”

The air is thick with heat and emotion, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. His name leaves your lips over and over like a prayer as he keeps whispering sweet things between moans.

“You’re everything to me…” “I want to give you everything…” “You’ll be such a good mother…” “You’re mine. Always.”

It builds slowly, wave after wave of pleasure curling tighter inside you. And when it crashes, it’s with a sob of his name, your whole body trembling in his arms.

He follows moments later, spilling deep inside you with a quiet groan, hips pressing flush against yours as he holds you tight.

After you stay tangled up in each other, his head resting on your chest, your fingers tracing down his nose, his jaw, his lips. The room is quiet again, filled with the sound of your breathing and the soft wind rolling off the sea.

You look toward the open doors, the sky now turning dusky pink.

“Do you think… it could happen this time?” you ask, voice barely audible.

Kylian lifts his head, eyes soft and full of love. “If it does… amazing. If not, then we try again. As many times as it takes. I’ll never stop wanting this with you.”

Mechanic!Rafe Cameron x Innocent!Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! corruption kink, slight age gap, power play, dubcon, dirty talk, rough but caring sex

want more?

summary, When your car breaks down, you head to your dad’s auto shop expecting him—but find Rafe Cameron there alone instead. He’s your dad’s newest hire: covered in grease, a bad attitude, and worse intentions. You’ve always been the good girl, untouched and innocent… but Rafe sees right through you. And he’s got a thing for ruining pretty things.

You shouldn't have gone there alone. Not with the way he looked at you.

Your dad’s garage smelled like oil and rubber, the air thick with heat and grease, the kind that clung to your skin. You only needed a ride home; your car was still in the shop, and he promised to take you. But the office was empty, the lights off, and your father’s truck was nowhere in sight.

Only he was there. Rafe Cameron.

He looked up from under the hood of a ‘69 Charger, wiping his hands on a rag already stained black. His jaw flexed as he watched you walk in, all sundress and lipgloss, a little too sweet for a place like this. A slow, crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Daddy's not here,” he said, voice low and rough. “He left about ten minutes ago.” He glanced down at his hands, then back up at you. “Told me to lock up. Guess he forgot you were comin’.”

“Oh,” you breathed, fingers fidgeting with your bag strap. “I just—I needed a ride.”

He set the rag aside and leaned back against the car, eyes dragging down your body. You weren’t dumb. You knew he was trouble. Your dad warned you about him more than once.

Too many fights. Too many girls. Too much attitude.

And yet here you were.

Rafe cocked his head. “You trust me to take you home, sweetheart?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I guess I don’t have a choice?”

That grin deepened, dangerous now like he knew something you didn’t. He walked slowly toward you, each step echoing in the cavernous space until he was standing right before you, tall and broad and still smelling like motor oil and cigarettes.

“You shouldn’t say shit like that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Someone like me might take it the wrong way.”

Your breath caught.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you did.” His fingers trailed down to your neck, then paused at your collarbone, eyes locked on yours. “You think your daddy would still let me work here if he knew the things I wanted to do to his little girl?”

You swallowed hard. “Rafe…”

“You ever been touched, baby?” he whispered, voice like smoke. “Or are you still all sweet and tight and untouched?”

Your cheeks burned, and that silence was all he needed.

“Oh, fuck. You are, aren’t you?”

He groaned, low and filthy, his hand slipping to your waist. “You got no idea what that does to me.”

“Rafe, I don’t think—”

He kissed you before you could finish, mouth hot and urgent against yours. You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve. But instead you melted into him, fingers clinging to his grease-streaked shirt as he kissed you like he was starving.

“I’ll be good,” he rasped against your lips. “I’ll teach you nice. Make it feel so fuckin’ good you’ll forget your own name.”

He backed you into the tool bench, hands lifting your skirt, his breath hot against your neck. And when he finally sank to his knees in front of you, looking up like you were the only thing worth worshipping, you realized that you weren’t walking out of that shop the same girl who walked in.

You gripped the edge of the workbench behind you like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Rafe’s hands, big and calloused, pushed your thighs apart, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across your soft skin. He looked like he belonged down there, kneeling between your legs, grease-smudged and hungry.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, eyes dark, locked on your core like a predator. “You scared, baby?”

You nodded, breath catching.

“Good.” His smirk was cruel and fond all at once. “You should be. You’ve been daddy’s little angel all your life, huh? Never done anything bad.”

His hands slid up under your skirt, fingertips brushing over the cotton of your underwear. “But here you are. Soaking through these just from me talking to you.”

You whimpered when he pressed his thumb against the damp spot. “Don’t worry,” he crooned. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

He pulled your panties aside and didn’t waste time. His tongue was on you in seconds, hot and wet, licking you like he’d been waiting forever for a taste. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, thighs trying to close around his head, but he held you open, mouth working you like a fucking meal.

“Rafe—oh my god—”

He growled into you, dragging the flat of his tongue up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. It was filthy. Messy. Nothing like the sweet first time you’d imagined, but it felt good. Too good. Your head tipped back, chest heaving as he devoured you like he owned you.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, voice muffled between your thighs. “You wanted someone to ruin you, didn’t you? Someone to show you what that tight little pussy’s for.”

Your moan was all the answer he needed.

“Yeah,” he grunted, sucking harder. “That’s it. Be a good girl and come on my fuckin’ face.”

You didn’t stand a chance. It slammed into you, hot and intense, your thighs trembling as he held you through it, still licking, still sucking, until you were panting and boneless.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were soaked with you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood, towering over you again.

“Look at you,” he said, dragging a thumb across your swollen bottom lip. “All fucked out and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

Your knees buckled, and he caught you with a laugh, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and setting you down on the workbench.

“You want more, baby?” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. “’Cause I’m not done showing you just how bad you really are.”

Your legs were shaking as he laid you back on the workbench, the chill of the metal biting at your spine but all you could focus on was him.

Rafe stood between your thighs, jeans pushed low, cock in hand, thick, heavy, and flushed with need. You stared, lips parted, overwhelmed by his size and sheer presence.

“You sure about this, baby?” he asked, voice lower than a growl. “You let me in now, I’m not gonna be gentle. Not the first time, not the tenth. You let me fuck you once and you’ll never be able to stop.”

You whimpered, but nodded.

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. “Then be a good girl and open up f’me.”

The stretch burned at first, hot and sharp and too much. You gasped, hands clutching at the edge of the bench, body tight around him as he pushed in, slow but unrelenting. Inch after inch, filling you more than anything ever had.

“Fuck,” Rafe breathed, head falling forward. “You’re so damn tight… like your cunt’s never been touched.”

“It hasn’t,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You’re the first…”

His groan was downright sinful. “Fuckin’ knew it. I knew it. Bet your daddy doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue what his little girl’s doing in the back of his shop right now.”

You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed, but so full, so deep.

Then Rafe started to move, slow at first, then harder, faster, as your slick built up and your moans got louder. The bench squeaked beneath you, metal tools clinking with every thrust, your hands desperately clawing at his shoulders.

“You like that?” he grunted. “Like being split open on my cock like a fuckin’ toy?”

You couldn’t even speak, just nodded, tears at the corners of your eyes from the intensity. From how much you loved it.

Then...

BZZZ. BZZZ.

Your phone lit up next to you on the workbench.

Daddy Calling…

Your stomach dropped.

Rafe saw it. Smirked. And never stopped thrusting.

“Ohhh, fuck yes,” he laughed under his breath. “Answer it.”

“I—I can’t—”

He grabbed the phone, hit accept, and held it to your ear with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Say hi, baby,” he murmured. “Let him hear that sweet voice while I’m buried in your fuckin’ guts.”

You struggled to keep your voice steady. “H-Hi, Daddy…”

His voice on the other end was casual. “Hey, sweetheart. Just checkin’ in, you get to the shop okay? Rafe still around?”

Rafe’s hand gripped your throat lightly, eyes burning into yours.

You swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah. He’s here. Just—finishing up…”

He thrust deep. You whimpered.

“You alright, honey? You sound… outta breath.”

Rafe mouthed, Lie to him.

“I’m good,” you managed, voice tight. “It’s just… hot back here.”

You heard your dad laugh. “Alright, well, tell Rafe I’ll see him Monday. You need a ride home or he takin’ you?”

Rafe mouthed it again, hips snapping up into yours: Say I’m taking you.

“He’s—he’s taking me,” you said, blinking through tears.

You hung up quick. The second the line dropped, Rafe slammed into you, hard enough to make the whole bench shift.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, his rhythm going brutal now. “Lying to Daddy while I fuck you full, what would he think if he saw you right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. You were already falling apart. Reaching a high for the second time. This time, it felt like fire spreading through your veins, every muscle in your body tensing.

“You gonna let me cum in you?” he growled. “Let me stuff this tight little pussy and walk you out like nothin’ happened?”

“Please,” you cried, arching under him. “I want it—I want all of it—”

That was it.

He groaned, deep and rough, grinding into you as he came, hot and thick, spilling inside you. His hips jerked once, twice more before he collapsed over you, panting, still buried deep.

When he pulled out, his cum spilled down your thighs, warm and messy.

He stared at it for a second. Then looked at you, eyes hungry and possessive.

“You’re not a Daddy’s girl anymore,” he whispered. “You’re mine now.”

The garage was quiet again. The only sound was the faint hum of the old fan in the corner and your unsteady breathing as you lay back on the bench, legs still trembling.

Rafe hadn’t pulled out yet. His cock was softening inside you, but he didn’t move. Just leaned over you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tracing lazy patterns along your thigh.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, almost tender.

You nodded, blinking up at him, the edges of your innocence frayed and unraveling. “Yeah.”

“Hurts?”

“A little,” you admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

He smiled, the cocky edge of his grin softened by something warm. He brushed his lips over your forehead and murmured, “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

He finally pulled out, and you gasped at the warm spill of him leaking down your thighs. His eyes darkened as he watched it, his fingers tracing your inner thigh, dragging through the mess he made.

“Gonna be dripping all the way home,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Bet you’ll still be wet when you sit down for dinner.”

You shoved at his chest, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Stop!”

He grinned but handed you a clean rag, helping you clean up gently even though his fingers lingered too long, like he couldn’t not touch you.

Once you were decent again, he pulled you close, settling between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your chest.

“You know he’s gonna find out,” he said eventually.

Your stomach dropped.

“W-What?”

Rafe looked up at you with a slow, lazy smirk. “He’s not dumb. You think he won’t notice the way you walk? Or the way you can’t even look him in the eye after being filled with my cum.”

You slapped his shoulder with a gasp, mortified, but he caught your wrist, pulled your hand to his mouth, and kissed your knuckles.

“You’re mine now.” His voice was gravel and heat. “You think I’m gonna let someone else touch what I just ruined? No fuckin’ chance.”

Your heart twisted at his words, possessive, raw, and real. This wasn’t just a one-time thing to him. And despite every reason to say no, to pull away, to run home and pretend nothing happened…

You didn’t want to.

Not when he looked at you like that. Like you were the only good thing he’d ever laid hands on. Like he wanted to dirty you up again and again just to keep a piece of you under his skin.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet.

Jude Bellingham x Pop Star!Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! soft dom!Jude, creampie kink, soft sex, emotional intimacy, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected, backstage sex, gentle possessiveness

summary, you've performed in sold-out arenas with the world at your feet for the months you've been on tour, but Jude is the only one who makes you feel like this. On the final night of your tour, he sneaks into your dressing room before curtain call, unable to keep his hands off you. You're glammed, trembling, and desperate. And he’s there to remind you exactly who you belong to.

There was a soft knock on the dressing room door. You didn’t have to ask who it was.

“Come in,” you whispered, heart already fluttering.

Jude stepped in and shut the door behind him, slow and quiet. He was in all black, hood up, cap low, the way he always moved through the stadium unnoticed. But his eyes? His eyes found you instantly.

“You look…” he breathed, taking a shaky step forward, “...fucking unreal.”

You stood in front of the vanity in your stage fit—tight, sparkly, tiny. Heels high. Lip gloss on. Hair pinned perfectly.

But the second he touched you, it all slipped away.

“You nervous?” he asked, voice soft against your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

You nodded. “It’s the last night. It’s a lot.”

Jude turned you in his arms. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You always do too much,” he murmured. “Always give everything. Just for once… let me take care of you first.”

You didn’t speak. Just leaned in, lips brushing his and that’s all it took.

He kissed you slow, deep, fingers sliding up under the hem of your outfit. You gasped against his mouth when he touched you, already soaked, already aching.

“Need me that bad, baby?” he asked, voice all silk. “You’ve got a stadium full of people waiting for you and you’re dripping for me like this?”

You whimpered, hips rocking forward, desperate.

“Jude, please…”

He didn’t rush. Just walked you back gently toward the couch, laying you down like you were something delicate. You clutched at his hoodie, eyes wide.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispered, kneeling between your legs. “You’ve only got a few minutes, I’ll be good, I swear.”

And then—

“Five minutes, Y/N!” your manager’s voice called from down the hall. “We need you out of here and heading to stage in five!”

You gasped, but Jude only smiled. “Perfect,” he said, pulling your panties down. “That’s all I need.”

He slid inside you slow, careful, stretching you sweetly. You clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, head tilted back in pleasure.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, brushing your hair back as he rocked into you. “Don’t think about the show right now. Just let me love you.”

It was slow. Deep. Every roll of his hips a soft promise. He kissed your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, murmuring how proud he was of you, how beautiful you looked, how tight and warm you felt around him.

You tried to hold back tears, overwhelmed by the softness, the fullness.

“You gonna come for me?” Jude whispered.

You nodded against his chest, thighs trembling.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he breathed. “Let my cum drip down your thighs while you’re out there performing like the star you are?”

“Please,” you whispered. “I want it—I want you—”

He picked up the pace, thrusting into you harder and faster as you moaned against his skin. The feel of him stretching you, you squeezed around him causing a groan to tear from his lips.

He kissed you as you came, shaking around him. And he followed seconds later, with a soft groan against your lips, burying himself deep and staying there, not moving, not rushing, just holding you while you caught your breath.

When he finally pulled out, you were still twitching, still full of him, your body humming with everything he gave you.

You stood slowly, shaky in your heels.

Jude helped fix your outfit. Smoothed your hair. Wiped a stray lash away with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered against your temple. “Now go make them scream for you.”

You smiled, eyes glassy. “You gonna watch from side stage?”

Rafe Cameron x Reader (Best Friend’s Sister) Explicit (18+) warnings! oral (m receiving), rough dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, possessiveness, degradation kink, explicit language

The shower turns on down the hall, the low rush of water echoing through the house.

You're curled up on your bed, scrolling your phone like you’re not completely on edge with Rafe downstairs and your brother oblivious...again.

The door creaks.

You look up.

And there he is, already locking it behind him, already smirking like he’s got you right where he wants you.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” Rafe says lowly, already toeing off his shoes. “Maybe less.”

Your stomach flips. “Are you insane?”

He’s walking toward you like he didn’t hear that. His shirt’s half-unbuttoned, his hair still damp from the beach, and the look in his eyes? Devouring.

“Don’t care,” he mutters. “Been thinking about your mouth all goddamn day.”

“Rafe—”

“No time for that innocent shit.” He grabs your chin, thumb brushing your bottom lip before he leans in, voice hot against your mouth. “On your knees. Now.”

Your breath hitches, thighs clenching, but you slide off the bed and onto the floor like muscle memory. He watches you with that look, already unbuckling his belt.

“You like sneaking around, huh?” he mutters, voice rough. “Like knowing your brother’s right there while you suck me off?”

You whimper.

He chuckles, dark and low. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You reach for him and he catches your hand, grip tight.

“No hands.” He fists your hair and guides your face toward his cock, pulling it out already hard and heavy. “Mouth only. Let me see how much you missed me.”

You open your mouth, and he doesn’t waste time, sliding in with a hiss, the weight of him on your tongue almost enough to make your eyes water.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, head tipping back. “Always so good for me.”

You start moving, slow at first, then deeper, letting him guide the pace. His hand stays firm in your hair, controlling, dragging a moan from you every time he fucks just a little deeper into your throat.

“Look at you,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours. “On your knees for me like a fucking angel. My best friend’s little sister. Such a dirty fucking secret.”

You moan around him, and he groans in response, his hips twitching.

“God, I could live in this mouth.” He thumbs your cheek, watching the bulge as he presses deeper. “So pretty when you choke for me.”

Then—

Footsteps.

You freeze. The water’s still running, but your brother’s moving. Too close.

Rafe’s hand tightens in your hair, forcing your eyes up. “Don’t stop. He won’t check in here.”

You whimper, but you keep going, heart pounding, breath catching, spit pooling.

“That’s my girl,” Rafe growls. “So fucking good for me. So desperate. Bet you’re soaked right now just knowing we could get caught.”

He pulls you off him for a second, your lips wet and swollen, breathing hard. He tilts your chin up, dragging a thumb across your mouth.

“Look at you. Ruined.”

You hear a door shut, your brother back in the bathroom maybe, or his room, but still close.

Rafe watches you, then grabs your face again, guiding himself back into your mouth with a growl.

“Finish what you started, baby.”

You do. Desperate and messy and silent except for the sound of your lips on him, your throat tightening around every thrust, and his low curses.

When he comes, it’s with a ragged groan and his hands tight in your hair, hips shuddering.

He pulls out slowly, chest rising and falling hard. You’re blinking up at him, mouth still parted, breathless.

He kneels, wipes your lip with his thumb, and kisses you, filthy and fast.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “No matter who’s in the next room.”

You don't say anything.

You don't have to.

Rafe Cameron x Reader.

Explicit (18+)warnings! Public tension, explicit language, fingering, dominance, possessiveness, consensual roughness.

You’re not sure why you always end up out here, leaning on the railing of someone else’s house, breathing through another party you never wanted to attend. The air is thick with heat and salt, the sky glittered with stars. Music pulses behind you, but it feels distant. Muted.

And then he’s there.

Of course he is.

“Couldn’t hack it inside with the rest of the Kooks?” Rafe says, voice slick and slow as molasses.

You don’t turn. “Didn’t realize you would be here.”

“You knew,” he replies. “That's why you're here.”

Now you do turn. Slowly. His eyes are already on you, sharp…..hungry.

There’s always been something between you and Rafe Cameron. Something raw and volatile, like a lit match dancing over gasoline. He gets under your skin like no one else, and maybe that’s why you’ve never let yourself crack.

Until now.

He steps closer, crowding into your space, and your breath catches without permission.

“You always run when things get too loud,” he murmurs. “Like you think someone’s gonna figure you out.”

Your lips part. “You think you have me figured out?”

“I know how you look at me when you think I’m not watching.” His voice drops, low and rough. “And I know how much you hate that you want me.”

You should tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you lean back against the railing, arms crossed, chin tilted in defiance. “You’re delusional.”

His eyes narrow, then drop, trailing down your body with no shame at all. When they meet yours again, his smile is lazy, dangerous.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, stepping between your legs.

You should. You don’t.

Instead, your breath hitches when he leans in, hands landing on the railing behind you, caging you in.

"You gonna let me kiss you, or are you gonna keep pretending you don’t want to know what it feels like?"

His mouth is right there, and you hate that you’re leaning into it.

So you kiss him first.

It’s not soft.

It’s rough, teeth clashing, lips bruising, like you’re both trying to win. His hands move to your waist, gripping hard, fingers digging in like he’s staking a claim.

You gasp when he bites your lip, and he growls into your mouth, pulling your hips flush to his.

And fuck, he’s hard.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you talk back. Every time you walk into a room acting like you’re not dying for me to ruin you.”

“Rafe—”

You’re cut off by his hand sliding between your legs, fingers bold and possessive, slipping under your dress and into your underwear without hesitation.

You gasp—half in shock, half in anticipation as his middle finger finds you already wet.

He chuckles darkly. “Soaked.”

Your hands fist into his shirt, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

“We’re outside,” you whisper, panicked now. “What if someone—”

“Let them,” he growls, pressing a slow, deep circle against your clit. Your knees nearly buckle. “Let them see how you fall apart for me.”

“Rafe—”

“I want them to see,” he hisses against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. “I want them to know no one else gets you like this. No one else can make you beg.”

Then, oh god, he slips a finger inside you.

You bite your lip to stop a sound from slipping out, but he sees it. Feels it. Loves it.

“Don’t hide it,” he says, fucking you slowly with just that one finger. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your body on fire.

“Eyes on me,” he snaps, fingers gripping your chin roughly.

You look. He’s watching you like he wants to break you open and see what’s underneath.

“You’re mine when I touch you like this,” he says, curling his finger just right, adding a second. “Say it.”

“No,” you gasp.

He grins. “Say it, or I stop.”

You glare at him, furious and wrecked.

“…Yours.”

“Louder.”

“Yours,” you gasp, hips bucking into his hand.

“Good girl.”

His mouth crashes back onto yours, one hand in your hair, the other still working you open like he’s memorizing every twitch and gasp.

And just as you’re about to break, body tensed, heart pounding, he pulls his hand away.

You sob out a curse, but he shoves his fingers into your mouth before you can finish it.

“Now taste what you do to me.”

You moan around his fingers, and he nearly loses it right there.

“Next time,” he growls, “I’m fucking you where everyone can really watch.”

And the way your body reacts to that?

warnings! smut, tension, sort of cheating (but not - PR relationship)

She’d seen him walk into the room at the start of the night. His eyes glinted, his smile effortless, but there was something in the way he moved that made her pulse quicken. A dangerous spike in her heart rate. She couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through her mind—thoughts of him, of his lips, his hands, his voice. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to push the memories down, but they lingered, coiling tight inside her.

Her fingers curled around the glass of rosé as she sipped it, hoping the wine would cool the heat spreading through her body. She forced her gaze away, trying to focus on anything else, but every time her eyes flickered back to him, her stomach twisted. She had never felt this way before. No one had ever made her feel this way.

"You look flushed. Should we go outside?" Gracie’s voice snapped her back, too sharp, too aware. Her eyes shot to him across the room—he was still laughing, leaning into his date with an ease that made her stomach churn. The last thing she wanted was to go outside, away from the heat of the room. But the fire inside her had nothing to do with the temperature.

"I'm fine." She shrugged, a forced calmness in her tone. "I’m just going to grab another drink." She needed space, air. Anything to stop her thoughts from spiraling.

As she moved through the crowd, the buzzing energy of the room seemed to close in on her. She reached the bar, tapping her finger impatiently on the marble, her eyes focused on the barman.

She could feel the thrum of tension building, could feel his presence even before his hand slid along her back, warm and firm against her exposed skin.

She didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Trent.

His breath brushed the side of her neck, and she froze, the world around her falling away. His voice was low, smooth, like honey. "Hi."

Her breath hitched. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt the heat of him behind her, his scent, the heat of his body, so close.

"How’ve you been?" he asked, stepping into her line of sight. His eyes grazed over her, and the way his gaze lingered made her pulse jump.

"I’ve been good." Her voice was soft, quieter than she meant. She could barely manage to hold it together. "And you?" Her grip tightened on her glass, the cold contrast to the fire he ignited in her. The music swelled around her, almost too loud now.

He leaned in, his mouth close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. "I’ve missed you," he said, his words like a slow burn, his gaze dipping to the neckline of her dress before snapping back to her eyes.

Her eyebrow arched in a challenge. "My body, you mean." The words tumbled out before she could stop them, sharp and cutting. "You missed my body, not me."

"Don't say that." He pleaded, his voice strained. "You know it meant more to me."

She ignored the flutter in her stomach. Her gaze flicked toward his date, still standing nearby, chatting with someone else. The image of them together stung more than it should. Her eyes snapped back to him, the heat of her body growing as she fought to keep her composure.

"So, what's the deal with her?" Her voice was cool, but her pulse hammered in her throat. "Can't be missing me too much."

His expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he followed her gaze to the woman he’d been with. He didn’t say anything at first, as if weighing his words. Finally, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke low enough for only her to hear.

Her brows furrowed, disbelief flooding her. An act? That didn’t make sense. Not when his hands had touched her like that, not when he’d looked at her the way he had.

"An act?" she repeated, trying to keep the edge out of her tone, but failing. "So, what, you’re just using her?"

He didn’t flinch at her accusation, instead stepping closer. "I don’t want her," he said, voice raw, eyes dark with something more than lust. "I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you."

She shook her head, her heart pounding harder now, but doubt still gnawed at her. "You don’t know what you’re saying." She took a step back, the wall of uncertainty between them growing higher. "If you really cared, you wouldn’t be with her."

Her words stung more than she expected. She felt the weight of them hanging between them, and before he could respond, she turned away, a lump forming in her throat. What was she doing? She was letting herself believe him, letting herself hope for something that might not exist.

She pushed past the crowd, her mind spinning, trying to outrun the emotions threatening to spill over. The last thing she needed was to be vulnerable in front of him. She was walking away, she had to.

But then, a hand shot out, catching her wrist. She turned to face him, his grip gentle but unyielding. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort it took to catch up to her.

"Don’t walk away from me," he said, his voice low, the words heavy with an intensity that made her heart falter.

She pulled her wrist from his hand, eyes flashing. "I can’t do this," she snapped, her voice trembling despite her attempts to stay strong. "I don’t need this... this mess." She glanced at him one last time, hoping he wouldn’t see the pain in her eyes. "You’re with her, and I’m not just going to be some... rebound."

His jaw clenched, but there was no anger in his eyes, just desperation, a raw honesty that left her breathless. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers as if trying to read her very soul.

"You think I’m with her because I want to be?" His voice was strained, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. "I can’t stop thinking about you. Every minute, every second, you’re in my head. I’ve wanted you since that night, wanted you more than anything." His gaze softened, and his fingers brushed gently along her jawline as if he were afraid she might shatter under his touch.

"I can’t stop thinking about the way you feel... how you make me feel. This isn’t some game for me, not with you."

Her heart skipped, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to so badly. But the doubt still clouded her thoughts, and she felt her walls creeping back up. "You don’t know what you're saying."

"I do," he said firmly, his voice low and steady. "I’ve never meant anything more in my life."

He closed the gap between them then, his lips hovering just inches from hers. Her chest tightened, her body reacting to the undeniable pull between them, but her mind still fought it.

"I don’t know what’s happening here, but I want you," he whispered, his voice thick with raw, unfiltered emotion. "I need you."

And then, before she could speak and think any longer, he kissed her, soft at first, his lips tasting of wine and heat. But then she kissed him back, deep and hard, the tension between them snapping in an instant. She let herself give in to the desire, the ache she’d been trying to ignore.

Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, the world outside them fading into nothing. There was only him. Only the way his body pressed against hers, the way he kissed her like he needed it, like he needed her. The doubt melted away as the heat between them grew, leaving only raw hunger, only need.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice hoarse. "I’ve never wanted anything more than this."

Her breath was shallow, her body aching for more, but she didn’t have the words to respond. She only nodded, her hands sliding under his jacket, pulling him in for more, until nothing existed but the heat, the tension, the desire that had been building between them from the very first glance.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, desperate for more. He pulled away, his breath ragged, and without a word, he took her hand and led her towards the door at the end of the hall.

They reached the empty room, a quiet corner far from the noise, and before the door had even closed behind them, his lips were on hers again, more frantic this time, as if he couldn't wait another second. She let out a breathless laugh, her hands pulling at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. The cool air in the room made her skin burn as she tugged at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.

He groaned as her hands skimmed over his chest, his fingers slipping under her dress, his touch sending sparks racing through her. "God, you drive me crazy," he muttered between kisses, his hands moving lower, teasing her with every inch of skin he revealed.

She could hardly think, could hardly breathe as their bodies pressed together, the world outside of this room fading to nothing. She was lost in the moment, in the need that had been building between them from the first time they locked eyes.

She pulled him closer, her body aching with the anticipation of what was coming. His lips trailed down her neck, his hands sliding to the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her gasp.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she breathed, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "I want you so much."

The intensity between them reached a fever pitch, and in that moment, there was no turning back. Only the heat, the raw desire.

"I want to taste you, " he whispered, placing a soft kiss to her shoulder. He dropped to his knees, his head lifting and his brown eyes wide as he took in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"Please." She whispered, pressing her back firmly into the cold wall as his hands lifted her dress, fingertips brushing against her thighs. Her legs trembled with just those soft touches. His fingers reached her thong, brushing against the fabric, before hooking a finger into the side and pulling it away to expose her.

She was soaked, and his eyes darkened as he took in her swollen lips.

"What do you want?" He asked, his breath causing her walls to clench around nothing.

"Your mouth." She moaned as she closed her eyes and dropped her head back onto the wall. He leaned closer, his tongue darting out and sliding against her folds. Teasing and soft but her legs faltered, his hands reached her hips to steady her.

He buried his face between her thighs and sucked her sensitive core, his tongue lapping at her wetness. Her breaths came in short stuttered gasps as she brought her hands to his head and pushed him in deeper.

"Fuck Trent." She moaned, her voice echoing in the empty room.

"That's it, baby, let me make you feel good." He kissed the inside of her thigh as he looked up at her, his lips glistening and eyes bright before bringing his tongue back to where she wanted him most.

He sucked on her clit, his finger coming up and teasing her opening before pushing in. The rhythm of his finger complimented the movements of his tongue and she was a moaning mess as she felt the heat spread through her body.

"I'm going to come." She groaned, her voice soft, breathing heavy.

"Let go for me, baby." He pushed in another finger and stretched her, groaning against her as he felt her clench around his fingers. His mouth latched onto her clit, loving the way her fingers gripped his hair tighter and her thighs squeezed against his head.

She moaned his name as she came, her thighs trembling and feet sliding from beneath her, but he kept her up as he threw an arm across her stomach. She ground against his face as she came down from her high.

He placed a soft kiss on her thigh before lifting his head and searching her face. She had a small smile playing on her lips, and her eyes were closed. He'd never seen anything so beautiful; he licked his lips, savouring the taste of her. He brought his hand down to the crotch of his pants, stroking a hand against his growing member, a groan leaving his lips at the contact. Her eyes opened and she looked down at him as he touched himself through the material.