you found rafe sprawled out on your bed like he owned it. shirtless and lazy after a beach day with topper and kelce.
"hey, pretty." he drawled out, smirking up at you as you climbed onto the mattress beside him with a word. he noticed, how you were more fidgety, more on-edge.
he didnt bother asking why you looked restless and pent-up.
he knew damn well why. he just shifted slightly, settling properly on his back with his hand under his head as you straddled his waist, knees digging into the sheets on either side of him. hands planted on his chest, firm muscle still twitching under your palms.
he was solid, unmoving, letting you take exactly what you needed how you needed it.
"don' say shit." you grumble out when rafe's eyes lock onto yours, causing a grin to grow on his face which only deepened when you started moving—rocking your hips forward, pressing your core down against the growing bulge in his shorts.
the friction hit just right. a low hum escaped your throat as you ground down harder, circling your hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. rafe didn't touch you, didn't grab your ass or thrust up—his hands stayed locked behind his head, biceps flexing, watching you with that smug, heated gaze.
"go on." he murmured, voice rough like gravel. "use me."
the words hit something deep in you, enough to make you move faster. hips rocking more firmer against his, fingers digging into his chest just enough. your clit dragging along his length with every roll and you let out soft moans under your breath.
rafe? rafe was perfect under you. still. letting you do as you please with a smug grin on his face while his breathing picked up a notch. you leaned forward, biting your lip to stifle the moan rising, hair falling around your face and he just tilted his head back enough to see you properly.
"so pretty when you're like this." he murmured out, watching your reactions as if they were his life line. that was what got you going even harder, clit dragging against his bulge through the thin material of his shorts and your panties, moaning louder now as you dug your nails into his chest.
rafe's cock just throbbed beneath you. you could feel the pre-cum through his shorts, could feel the way that his body was reacting even when he had a smug grin on his face.
"c'mon baby, ride me proper." he taunted which made you grind down extra hard—just enough to make him groan low in his throat while you bit down on your lip so hard you taster copper.
"shut it." you retorted even as the coil in your stomach tightened, pussy clenching around nothing while you humped his cock more insistently, hips circling in tight figure-eights, chasing that edge.
the tension coiled tighter, your pussy clenching around nothing as the friction pushed you higher. hands pressing harder into his chest for leverage, you humped him with abandon, breaths coming in pants that matched his.
rafe's eyes never left your face, drinking in the flush on your cheeks, the way your lips parted. he was rock-hard, the head of his cock nudging your clit through the fabric on every upstroke, and it was enough—more than enough.
your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, thighs quivering as you ground down one last time, waves of pleasure ripping through you. you cried out, body shuddering atop him, soaking your panties completely.
rafe just watched, that grin widening as you collapsed forward onto his chest, your hands still splayed over his racing heart. he finally moved one hand, brushing your hair back from your face lazily.
"toys not enough for ya?" he cooed, voice underlined with a taunt, cock still twitching under you.
"fuck off." you grumbled, pressing your face into his collarbone.
"ah c'mon. i'll help you better, yeah?" he smirked, pressing his lips to your head in a light kiss before flipping you over in one swift move, pinning you under him.
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he doesn’t even speak when he gets in. just drops the bag with a thud that shakes the floorboards, kicks the door shut, and hauls you up by the back of your thighs like you’re nothing. your back slams the fridge before you can blink, magnets clattering to the tile. his mouth’s on your neck, beard scraping raw, teeth digging in hard enough to bruise.
“legs up,” he grunts, voice wrecked from the flight. you hook them around his waist on instinct, and he shoves higher, pinning you there with his hips. the cold steel of the fridge bites your spine; his dog tags swing between you, smacking your chin every time he grinds forward.
he’s still in his uniform, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock. he just grips your ass in both hands, spreads you open, and drives in so hard your head knocks the cabinet. you yelp; he swallows it with a filthy kiss, tongue shoving past your teeth like he owns the air in your lungs.
“been too fuckin’ long,” he rasps, pulling out only to slam back in, the force rattling the dishes inside. your nails rake down his neck, catch on the chain of his tags, and he growls, yanking your arms above your head. one thick forearm pins both wrists; the other hooks under your knee, folding you damn near in half.
sweat drips off his hair, lands hot on your tits where your shirt’s rucked up. his chest hair’s damp, sticking to your skin every time he leans in to bite your lip, your jaw, the soft spot under your ear.
“hold on f’me,” he mutters, and then he’s carrying you down the hall like you weigh nothing, cock still buried to the root. your back hits the couch; he follows, knees spreading yours wide. one hand fists your hair, arching your neck so he can watch your face while he fucks you into the cushions.
every thrust shoves you up the leather, tits bouncing, his tags dragging cold over your nipples. he slaps your sharply and then grips it hard enough to leave fingerprints. “stay open for me,” he orders, voice cracking when you clench around him.
you can’t answer. you just claw at his shoulders, his back, anywhere you can reach. he laughs, low and mean, and flips you over. face down, ass up—he doesn’t ask, just shoves your cheek into the cushion and mounts you like an animal. one hand between your shoulder blades, the other yanking your hips back to meet every brutal thrust.
the couch creaks, threatening to snap. his balls slap your clit with every stroke, and when you start shaking he doesn’t let up—just drills harder, grunting your name like a curse. “cum on my cock,” he snarls, slapping your ass again, harder. “show me who this pussy belongs to.”
you do, your hole body locking up as he pumps you full, hips stuttering, breath ragged against your spine. he stays inside, chest heaving, thumb tracing the teeth marks he left on your shoulder.
“missed you baby,” he mutters, finally, voice soft for the first time all night.
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"two weeks," rafe grunts, his voice rough with frustration as he shoves a third finger deep into your pussy. "two weeks away from me and you've clamped shut like a fuckin' virgin."
you are splayed out on the edge of your mattress, your suitcase still abandoned by the door where you dropped it five minutes ago. you haven't even taken off your shoes. rafe didn't give you the chance. he has your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, bending you in half, exposing your tan-lined pussy to the harsh bedroom light and his relentless assault.
"rafe, slow down… it hurts," you hiss, your hips twitching involuntarily as he twists his wrist deep inside you.
"it's supposed to hurt," he retorts, sweating as he forces his fingers to scissor open, stretching your walls apart. "you think you can just go on vacation and forget how big i am? i have to make room."
he withdraws his hand, the wet squelch echoing loudly, only to immediately replace it with the blunt, angry head of his cock. he doesn't lube it up. he uses the juices he just coaxed out of you, spitting on the head for good measure before lining himself up. the sight of his erection — thick, vein-wrapped, and visibly throbbing — makes your breath hitch. it looks too big. after fourteen days of nothing, he looks massive.
"relax," he commands, grabbing your hips with bruising force to anchor you. "don't fight it. open up."
he pushes forward. it's a slow, gruelling invasion. the head of his cock forces your entrance to stretch into a wide, taut circle, the skin turning pale with the strain. you cry out, digging your nails into the duvet, feeling completely stuffed before he's even halfway in. the sensation is overwhelming — a feeling of being split open, filled to absolute capacity.
"fuck, you're tight," rafe groans, his eyes rolling back as he feels your internal muscles squeezing him in a panic. "look at you taking it. taking every inch."
he drives his hips forward in a sudden, brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. the impact knocks the wind out of you. you feel him hit your cervix, a deep, dull thud that radiates through your entire core. you are completely impaled, your body moulded around his intrusion.
"there," he breathes, leaning down to bite the sensitive cord of your neck. "now you're full. now you remember who you belong to."
he doesn't start fast. he moves with agonising slowness, pulling almost all the way out until just the tip remains, then slamming back in to re-stretch you with every stroke. it's a torture of friction and fullness. he grinds his pubic bone against your clit, overstimulating you while he ruins your insides.
"did you touch yourself while you were gone?" he demands, slapping your thigh. "did you think about this? about my cock stretching you out?"
"yes," you sob, unable to lie. "rafe, please… harder."
"careful what you wish for."
he snaps. the slow, methodical stretching turns into a feral, desperate pounding. he hammers into you, his pace frantic, driven by fourteen days of pent-up need. the bed frame slams rhythmically against the wall, shaking the entire room. you're moaning loudly, incoherent pleas mixing with the wet, slapping sound of his skin colliding with yours. you feel stretched to the absolute limit, your body gaping open to accommodate him, adjusting to the sheer size of him until your entire world narrows down to the friction and the heat.
"i'm gonna wreck you," he snarls, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. "i'm gonna leave you so loose you won't be able to walk for weeks."
he grabs your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, pulling you flush against him to maximise the depth. he hits your cervix with every thrust now, a bruising, deep pleasure that borders on pain. you wrap your legs around his back, locking your ankles to keep him there, desperate for the release building in your belly.
"rafe! i'm close! i'm gonna—!"
"cum on my cock," he roars, slamming his hips forward one last time. "squeeze on it."
your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. your inner walls clamp down on his shaft, spasming violently. the sensation of your tightness crushing him pushes rafe over the edge. he groans, a deep, animalistic sound, and buries himself to the balls. he erupts, firing thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your womb. he pumps into you, unloading everything he's held back for two weeks, filling you until you feel heavy and bloated with his essence.
he stays there for a long time, chest heaving against yours, waiting until the very last twitch of his cock subsides. finally, he pulls out slowly. a gush of his seed mixed with your own fluids spills out of you, running down your inner thigh and soaking the sheets.
rafe stares at the mess, his eyes dark and possessive. he reaches down, swiping his thumb through the fluid leaking from your stretched, gaping entrance, and holds it up for you to see.
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.”
Rafe was ninety-nine percent sure all he'd been wanting since he hit puberty was his dad's approval.
It sounded real fucking pathetic when he put it in plain words—a desperate little boy still begging for scraps of attention at the dinner table. But it was the truth. Everything he’d ever done, every move he made, every deal, every fight, every lie—he had Ward Cameron’s shadow standing over his shoulder.
It has never been enough.
Ward always looked at him like he was waiting for him to mess up.
To him, Rafe was proof of a genetic mistake. Sarah could do no wrong, Wheezie was still young enough to be salvageable, and Rafe? He was the one who screwed the pooch every time. Okay, and he did—he could admit that to himself. But he never meant to.
He was trying to be better, always trying.
Then there was you.
The perfect daughter of his dad’s perfect best friend. The girl who floated into their lives every summer, an angel, shining halo and all. Ward ate that shit up—your polite little smiles, your "thank you, Mr. Cameron," your perfect posture at the dinner table.
Meanwhile, if anything went sideways? If something broke, if a fight was brewing—Rafe. It was always Rafe. Even when it wasn’t, especially when it wasn’t.
At some point, you didn't have to point the finger or say it out loud. Everyone assumed Rafe was the problem.
When Ward called him into the study tonight with that fake fatherly tone he used when he wanted something, Rafe didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Didn’t ask.
"Yes, sir," before he even knew what the favor was. If Ward wanted him at a meeting, Rafe would sit there with a pen and paper, the world’s most eager intern. If Ward wanted him to pitch, Rafe would fucking sell ice to a polar bear. This was the chance.
"We’ve got an important meeting next week. Investors flying in from Charlotte. They want to hear from the next generation, not the old men running the show."
Your dad chuckled from the leather chair across the room, swirling his glass. "That’s where you come in, son. It’s a big opportunity. Fresh blood. A Cameron face at the table—" he tipped the rim of the glass toward Ward, "—and not Sarah this time."
Rafe’s chest went tight, but he nodded anyway. "Of course. I’ll be there."
Ward leaned forward, steepling his hands.
"This is important, Rafe. We’re talking major accounts, potential expansion. You’ll sit in, observe, speak if the timing’s right. You keep your head down, you learn, and you don’t—" his eyes sharpened, the smile dropping, "—you don’t fuck it up. Got it?"
Rafe swallowed, embarrassment burning up the back of his neck. "Yes, sir. I won’t."
"Good." Ward sat back, satisfied, the matter already settled. "I knew you’d step up. Next Friday, 9am sharp at the Hilton downtown."
Next Friday.
Wasn't that...Shit. Next Friday—it was the date. The one he’d already promised you. Rafe was supposed to be on the ferry with you, to sit across from your estranged mom and give you that look—don’t fall for it.
"That work for you, Rafe?" your dad asked casually, sipping his drink.
"Yeah. Yeah, that works." His voice didn’t crack—he was proud of that. Inside, though? Fuck.
He could see your face when he bailed; your mouth would press thin, your eyes would harden, and you’d pretend you weren’t hurt. He’d promised. He’d fucking promised.
But Ward was watching him, and Rafe swore he caught something like approval flicker across his dad’s face. He needed that.
He nodded again, tighter this time. "I’ll be there."
The second the study door shut behind him, Rafe’s chest was a war zone. Head buzzing, adrenaline running high from Ward’s proposition. He should’ve been riding the wave, basking in it, but all he could think about was your friday.
How the fuck was he supposed to tell you?
Then again...
So what if he bailed? You’d fucked him over for years. Summers spent watching you get away with murder while he took the blame. You never minded when he was the villain. You never corrected anyone when Ward’s disappointment zeroed in on him.
It didn't matter that you'd grown...closer now. It was just sex or not even, everything but.
You’d been calmer. When you looked at him, it wasn’t drowned in satisfaction or that mean man-eating smirk—Rafe hated how much that shit got under his skin. He caught himself waiting for your texts, your stupid late-night knocks on his door, you curled into him after, and muttering crazy nothings, and how his chest didn’t feel so hollow when your eyes were only for him.
He wasn’t supposed to care, but against all odds, he did. Against all those years of little-miss-perfect ruining his life, he’d grown to care.
He was supposed to look you in the eye and tell you he was bailing. You’d made his life hell for years, and he’d survived it. You’d left him alone on the ashes of your perfection more times than he could count. Wasn’t this what you deserved? One promise broken, weighed against a lifetime of you watching him burn?
He had to believe that. If he didn’t, then the truth was uglier: he wanted his dad’s approval more than he wanted to keep yours.
Rafe went up to your bedroom, watching you fuss with your dresser. You didn’t notice him, humming under your breath, mountains of hair falling into your face. He almost turned around, pretended he forgot what he came here for.
The lamplight pooled around you in a way that made no sense, turning your skin to something unreal. Ethereal, something that shouldn’t exist outside of paintings.
Then your eyes flicked up, catching him through the mirror. And you smiled. Fuck. He’d never admit it, but he loved it when you aimed it at him instead of anyone else. Made him feel like he wasn’t completely irredeemable.
He was about to ruin it.
“Hi."
“Hey."
You turned on the stool and padded over to him, dragging him inside by the front of his shirt before he could think twice about bolting. Your arms looped around his thick neck, your perfume burning straight through his chest.
He should’ve kissed you. That was how it usually went: quick, hot, a distraction. You tilted your head back to look at him, when you caught the look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, voice dipped in suspicion.
So many years spent together meant that you could read him easy.
“I can’t go Friday.”.
“…What?”
“I can’t go Friday,” Rafe repeated, lower.
“Ohhh,” You nodded, a mock-understanding lilt around the word. “Funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
"What?" The warmth drained out of your face, lips collapsing like he’d slapped it off. Your arms slipped from his neck, falling away completely. You stared at him, speechless, "Why not?"
There was still a ghost of your hands on his neck, and the smell of your perfume stuck to his shirt. He should’ve lied, said he was sick, claiming something had come up, but it was anything but the truth.
Your eyes narrowed in disdain. “You promised me. Don’t fucking tell me you’re bailing because you forgot.”
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharp. “It’s important. I have to—”
“Important?” Your voice was pitching higher. “And meeting my mom for the first time in years? That’s not important?"
“I know,” Rafe snapped, louder than he meant to. He scrubbed at his jaw, “I know what I said, but this is...I can’t—”
Rafe’s jaw clenched. He’d known this was coming, but still, it hit like a gut punch. “It’s not—”
“Don’t pull that shit. You’re the one who looked me in the eye and promised.”
Rafe’s eyes were darting anywhere but yours. “I didn’t know then what I know now.”
You clapped ironically. “That’s fucking rich. You found something better to do? A party? Blow? Some new way to play the disappointment?”
His head snapped toward you, face twisted. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” You bit out, stepping closer. “All I hear is you bailing. I asked you!"
Your voice cracked on the last word. Rafe flinched; he always did when you showed your human side, even a little. Knowing you, asking him, begging really, had been a blow to your pride.
“I wouldn’t blow this off if it wasn’t serious.”
“Then tell me why,” you demanded.
His throat bobbed as he looked away.
You scoffed, bitter. “I should’ve known better than to count on you. I mean, that’s on me, right? Thinking you’d finally—” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips tight.
Rafe’s chest heaved, “Don’t fucking start.
“I can't point out the obvious? That I’m a fucking idiot for thinking you could show up once in your life?”
Something ugly grew in his chest, the old resentment making a strong appearance. He stepped toward you, voice rising. “You don’t get to stand there and act like I’ve never—”
“Never what?” you cut in, your laugh sharp and shaky. “Never cared? Newsflash, Rafe, you’ve made a career out of letting people down. Why would I be different?”
His teeth ground together, temples throbbing.
“I wouldn’t drop out if it wasn’t important!” Rafe’s chest was heaving, the vein in his neck standing out.
You blinked at him, fury burning up through your throat until it tasted bitter on your tongue. “Of course it’s important. Why would you fucking care about me, right? Why would what I need ever matter?”
"Yeah, why the fuck would I?!” The words ripped out of him, “Do you think you deserve it? You think you deserve me dropping everything for you, just because you want me there?”
Your lips parted, stung, and before you could speak, Rafe barreled on, fed up with how you talked down at him.
“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t owe you shit. Get off your fucking high horse. I'm not going to bow down and worship at your feet just because everyone else has."
You stared at him, eyes wide. Rafe knew it was one thing for him to bail, but to say that—he knew he was waking up the slick monster inside you.
Rafe had seen you mad before, snapping, stomping, and throwing things when you were younger. This wasn’t noise and tantrums.
Your lip curled, disdain tugging at the corner, holding back something worse. Your eyes, normally so bright, so alive, went dark—ten shades deeper than they had any right to be.
Your face flattened, wiped clean, no trace of the girl who had smiled at him in the mirror two minutes ago. Poker face. Impenetrable. You weren’t looking at him anymore; you were looking through him, past him, he wasn’t worth seeing.
This wasn't you, the one everyone else worshipped because they’d never seen this. This hollow-eyed dismissal was worse than Ward’s stare, worse than Sarah’s smug smirks when they were teens.
“Don’t do that,” Rafe boderline begged.
You walked back to your dresser, that halo of lamplight painting you gold again, but you weren’t glowing anymore, you were untouchable, a statue in some museum he’d never be allowed into.
“God forbid anyone expect anything from you. Poor baby. Poor little boy. Pray tell, is this because daddy asked for a favor?"
Rafe felt his stomach drop so fast it was like free falling, you must've felt it, because your lips formed into a grin, canine teeth flashing. You tilted your head a fraction, hair sliding off your shoulder.
He wondered if this was what fishermen in those old Outer Banks tales felt before being lured into the deep waters by the so-called sirens—knowing they were about to drown, unable to turn back.
“That's it, isn’t it?” Your voice was silk. “Ward asked you to do something.”
When he didn’t answer fast enough, you laughed under your breath.
“Let me guess—he called you son for the first time in a month, and you folded like a cheap chair.”
“Shut up."
You prowled closer, “Did it feel good? Finally getting a pat on the head from daddy? Did your heart skip when you thought this time, he’d be proud?”
Rafe’s nails bit crescents into his palms. He wanted to tell you to fuck off, make you stop. Every word from your tongue was true, and that made him feel ten times worse.
He despised how small it made him feel, how small you made him feel when you spoke like this.
“Is that what it takes? One word from him and you roll over, belly up?
"Don't."
“Don’t spell out what you can’t even admit to yourself?” you whispered, venom dripping, that cruel grin carved into your face.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” His voice was a growl.
You chuckled right in his face. “There it is. The dog comes out when someone touches the leash.”
Rafe surged forward, crowding you back a step. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”
"I know everything about you.” Your eyes lit up, hungry. “You’re weak. You’ll crawl, you’ll give up anything for the chance he might look at you and not see a failure.”
Rafe’s hand slammed against the dresser beside your head, rattling the perfume bottles. His teeth bared.
“You think you’re any better? Huh? You’ve been spoiled your whole fucking life, never had to fight for a fucking thing, and you think you can stand there and talk down to me?”
You had a feral snarl that looked too pretty to be human.
“I’m not pathetic enough to keep begging someone who’s never going to love me.”
That was fucking right coming from you, giving the circumstances.
Rafe clicked his tongue, “Is that right? Why did you reply to her letters then? Her calls? Set up a fucking date? Begged me to come? That’s not scraps?”
“That’s not the same." You sneered at him.
“Is that why you beg for my attention? Why you throw yourself at me in hopes that I’ll finally take pity and fuck you once and for all?”
Your head snapped toward him, eyes blazing, Rafe continued, aiming for the soft tissue. “You're the same as me. You long for it, for her. For me. For somebody to pick you and mean it.”
Your throat worked, words caught between a sob and a hiss.
"I'm nothing like you."
Rafe’s chest heaved like an animal’s, the vein in his neck standing out, eyes blown wide. It wasn’t even a fight anymore; it was two wounded things circling, tearing at each other because that was safer than saying the truth out loud.
“No, you’re worse.” His face was inches from yours, “You walk around like you’re not as desperate as the rest of us. Little Miss Perfect, queen of the fucking pity party.”
“You're a fucking—”
“No, you don’t get to stand there and say you’re nothing like me. Not after the nights you banged on my door because no one else would have you. You begged for me. Don’t you fucking dare forget that.”
You shoved him then, palms flat against his chest.
Rafe staggered back a step, caught off guard. His head whipped back toward you, hair falling into his eyes.
“Yeah?” you hissed, stepping into the space you’d created. “And you still opened the door every single time. Who’s pathetic now?” Your hand shot out again, pushing him harder, perfume bottles clattering to the floor. “Say it again,” you dared, voice shaking with rage.
“Little Miss Perfect,” Rafe spat, chest heaving.
The two of you were nose to nose now, breathing like you’d run a mile. Two wild things, neither willing to break first. Your hands were balled into fists, itching to claw his fucking face, he was sure of.
“Go on,” he panted, “say it again. Tell me how I’m worthless. How you’re so much better.”
Your mouth was probably filled with copper and fire and he could see it then, you hated him right now.
Then his hand was lost in your hair, yanking, and your mouth was colliding with his. His teeth caught your lip, yours scraped against his, and both of you tasted blood. His tongue forced its way in like he could win the fight that way, and you bit down harshly to prove he couldn’t.
Your hands dragged down the expensive cotton of his shirt, wanting to peel him open, see if his insides were just as ugly as his words. He grunted into your mouth, lapping at all you gave him.
Rafe knew how wrong it was. It didn't stop him.
The kiss turned vicious, lips splitting under teeth, but neither of you stopped. When you yanked at his shirt, buttons popped, scattering across the floor and he shoved you back against the dresser, the remaining bottles toppling over. His mouth moved to your jaw, your throat, sucking and swirling bruises, claims he had no right to make. You gasped, arching into him despite yourself, and that tiny sound undid him.
Wrong, his brain screamed. This was wrong. He should’ve been better than this, walked out the second your eyes went dark. But you've always been his worst addiction. Your dainty hands were tugging at his belt, clumsy, frantic, beyond doubt hating yourself for wanting it as much as he did. Rafe cursed into your skin, helping you, shoving his jeans out of the way before his fingers were creeping under your sleeping dress, yanking your underwear aside.
His eyes mistakenly lifted to meet yours. And fuck, even like this, your face flushed with fury, he thought you were devastating.
Rafe dragged the blunt head of his cock along your pussy, catching on your puffy, dripping entrance. The sound that left you was bitten back between clenched teeth, but he felt it.
His forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading already. He was breathing hard through his nose. He couldn’t fucking believe it was happening—after all the venom, all the words he couldn’t take back.
He'd tried to be the better man, but was there even a point to do so when it came to you?
Rafe kept the same pace, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, smearing your wetness across his cockhead. He was dragging it up over your clit before pulling back, barely brushing the swollen nub. He lazily traced himself against your dripping cunt, just shy of pushing in, watching the way your body responded even though your lips pressed tight in a grimace.
He nudged your entrance with the blunt head, your nails splintering wood. “Go on. Tell me to stop.”
You lifted your chin in defiance, “Can’t even take what you want without asking me first.”
His hips snapped forward, a controlled push, burying the tip inside you as both of you greedily gasped into each other’s mouths. Your hand flew up, latching on to his bicep to keep from sliding back against the dresser. His hands clamped on your hips, pulling you against him, dragging you over and over along the curve of his length before each shallow retreat.
Rafe's forehead rested against yours, teeth scraping your temple as he thrust lazily, torturing himself by not going faster, letting every inch of contact linger, feeling you drip for him.
Your hips bucked against him, matching his rhythm as he growled into your mouth. You curved up against him, pressing your chest to his, upper legs quivering as you sank even deeper, throwing one of them over his forearm.
Rafe’s eyes flicked down, taking in the full view, and his chest tightened. Fuckkkk, of course—it was fucking pretty. He couldn’t stop staring, mesmerized by how perfectly you took him.
Your nails carved lines down his back. “I hate you.”
“Say it again.”
“I. Hate. You.”
“Liar.”
He dragged himself out, along your cunt again, diving into the mess, relishing in how it clung to him so doatingly, coating him in you. His hand gripped your hip, thumb foudling against the sensitive crease where thigh met ass, feeling how you clenched around him even when your teeth were sunk into his jaw. He marveled at how your muscles nuzzled in his, how your chest heaved, how your scent wrapped around him like a chain he never wanted broken.
Rafe sank into you again, a smidge fraction, enough to fill that burning warmth. He was in no rush, addicted to watching you. He was completely fucking mesmerized, amazed at how good it felt, how much he wanted to lose himself in you, how wrong it was, and how he didn’t care.
He didn’t stop; if anything, he pushed harder, angle changing, ramming that sensitive head of his cock along your spot, over and over, never-ending. Rafe grabbed your hair again, tugging your head back, so you were staring up at him, exposing your throat as you hissed at the sting, only driving you wilder. Neither of you broke contact. His pupils were blown, ravenous, and you mirrored him, sweat slicking your skin.
Every shallow retreat and deep launch made your eyes water. Rafe’s hands roamed, pulling your hair, gripping your ass, slapping your thighs, holding you in place while his cock buried itself into you, again and again, over and over.
He pinned your wrists above your head with one arm, holding you in place, the other gripping your hip, pounding into you with insistence.
Your lashes flickered, and when he glanced at your face, he saw it—wet streaks running down your cheeks, your lips pressed tight, but your quivering. He knew better, you weren’t trapped. He was.
He hated you for making him feel that, hated himself more for still wanting you even as you broke in his hands. Your head thunked back against the mirror behind the dresser, your reflection fractured and doubled in the glass. Two monsters staring back at you.
Your eyes snapped up to his, wet and furious, your mouth wobbling out the only argument you had left. “Pathetic.”
Rafe’s hand shot from your hip to your cheeks, forcing your head back so he could stare at you properly while he split you open.
His thrusts turned brutal, your cries filling the room, pleasure and defiance fighting for the winning title. Rafe wallowed it with another vicious kiss while one of your legs hooked higher around his waist, opening yourself wider, daring him to break you completely. A labored sound ripped from a man who hated himself for how much he wanted it.
“Finally got what you wanted, huh?” His words were ragged, mean. “Little Miss Perfect, begging for the fuckin’ fuck-up to split her open.”
You spilled a cracked gasp, and he engulfed it with his teeth, snickering, forcing you to take him to the hilt.
“Don’t act like you haven’t been dreaming about this for years,” he panted, keeping your head back against the mirror. “You wanted it. You wanted me.”
You croaked back through gritted teeth, “Fuck you—” It broke halfway, the pitch too high as he angled his hips and ripped a whine straight out of your chest.
“Yeah, fuck me,” he sneered, driving harder.
You shook your head stubbornly, pain blooming where you dragged your nails, but Rafe only grunted, chasing the fight and the way you clenched tighter.
His forehead crashed to yours, eyes wild and unblinking, while his hand slid down between your bodies. His rough fingertips found your clit, with fast circles that made your cunt spasm immediately.
A gasp tore out of you, desperate and unwilling as Rafe’s mouth contorted into a cruel grin. “That’s what I fucking wanted.”
You tried to twist your face away, but he caught your cheeks, forcing your eyes back on him. “Don’t look away now. You wanted this, remember?” He was grinding cruelly against your clit, keeping you pinned between his cock and his hand. “All those years chasing me around, knocking on my door—this is what you were begging for. Feel that? That’s me making you cum again."
Your body swayed, thighs shaking like pathetic leaves as the dresser groaned under the weight of Rafe’s relentless tempo. His thumb was merciless, sliding you higher and higher until your mouth went slack. His thrusts slowed to let you feel every inch of him grinding deep, but his fingers never relented.
Your teeth snapped shut, a broken whimper spilling through them, and Rafe’s laugh was harsh in your ear.
“Don’t hold back. You’re not fooling anyone.”
He felt you lock around him, the quavering ran up your limbs before you made a sound. He’d been chasing it—a hunter dragging a kill back to shore—and then suddenly it was there, breaking out of you in a wail against his throat. Your eyes found his as you shattered, instead of looking away like he expected, you kissed him.
Not the vicious, teeth-and-blood kisses from before, your breath spilling into him as your whole body spasmed around his cock.
His fingers remained pitiless on your clit, while his cock was still pounding into you, your mouth went gentle on his. The sound you made as you came, he felt it in his teeth, in the pit of his stomach, in places he didn’t know were still alive.
Your eyes, usually so bright and taunting, went dark and faraway. It wasn’t submission; it was something worse, you were already gone, already leaving him behind even as you came on him.
“Don’t do that,” His hips stuttered, pattern gone, trying to fuck through the panic in his heart.
You came again anyway, body jerking, mouth still moving on his, and the noise you made punched through all his fucking common sense. Rafe’s hand slipped from your throat to the back of your neck, itching you closer, muffling the sound. He didn’t realize he was muttering “fuck, fuck, fuck” into your mouth, not in anger anymore but in need.
Then it was happening to him—no control, a hot mind mind-blowing rush exploding up his spine. He buried himself to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours, eyes clenched shut, hissing as he emptied himself inside you. The kiss deepened as he spurt all he had, swallowing the broken hums you gave him like he could keep them.
He could pretend it wasn’t another fight. You couldn't.
Your hands were shaking when you shoved at his chest, his weight was still inside you, holding you pinned, but it made his eyes snap openin drad.
“Get off me."
His brain was buzzing, his body exploding with aftershocks, but your tears caught him off guard. He stumbled back a step, cock slipping free of you, leaving both of you a mess. He would've laughed if it wasn't serious.
You pulled the hem of your dress down, chest heaving scarily fast, tears streaking your cheeks as you turned away from him.
“Leave.”
He blinked at you, lips parted, breathless. “What—”
“Leave, Rafe.” Your shoulders seemed to be shaking, you refused to look at him, arms crossed around yourself.
He fiddled a hand through his mess of hair, guilt and confusion ramming into his soul. “Hey—hey, wait. We should… we should talk about this.”
You spun on him, eyes red as he’d never seen before. “There’s nothing to talk about!”
He flinched, but you weren’t done.
You were staring at the floor, hair in your face, “I got what I wanted, right?”
He could hear himself fifteen minutes ago — Don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t owe you shit. It had been an instinct, a reflex.
He had seen you angry before, he liked it, in a sick way — the stomping, the shouting, the way you still had light in your eyes. This wasn’t that.
This was the same look he’d seen in the mirror after Ward was done with him.
He ran a hand over his face, fingers trembling as he reached for you.
“I didn’t—” He stopped. Because what? He didn’t mean it? He did mean it. He’d meant every word.
Your shoulders shook harder. “You don’t get it, do you?”
He didn’t, that was the worst part.
Rafe had seen the crush; you hovered around him summers past.
You’d never been subtle. And yeah, this summer, he knew you wanted him. That much was obvious.
This broken look in your eyes—didn't look like the aftermath of some stupid crush. This wasn’t you being pissed. He knew he could piss you off, make you slam doors, throw barbs.
He hadn’t known he could hurt you like that.
You turned away, rushing to grab your jacket, seemingly desperate to get out before he spewed more nonsense. He wanted to stop you, say something that would make sense of this, but there was nothing left to stand on.
He took a step forward, before the guilt in his gut said maybe don’t. “Just—wait a second, okay?”
He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand you.
When you brushed past him, your shoulder caught his, Rafe almost held you back, but your voice stopped him cold.
Your eyes were swollen, your pretty face flat, like you'd run out of emotion entirely. “Don’t touch me.”
Rafe looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else.
“Get out."
He hesitated, the words he wanted to say crowding behind his teeth.
I didn’t know. What good would that do? He’d already proven he didn’t deserve it.
He nodded, barely as he backed toward the door, eyes never leaving your figure, waiting for you to glance up. You didn’t.
The door shut behind him.
Rafe stood there for a long time, hand still on the knob, staring at nothing. He’d thought he knew what being hated by the people he cared about felt like. He was wrong.
THINKING OF RAFE SUCKING ON YOUR FINGERS WHILE YOU RIDE HIM.. 𓊆ྀི♡𓊇ྀི
he’d be so fucked out from how good it all feels that he doesn’t even think twice about it when you slip your pointer and middle fingers into his mouth. now, usually he doesn’t let you do stuff like this—it always has to be him in control, even when you’re on top, but the tightness of your pussy feels too good. it has his brain feeling all fuzzy, so he lets you, moaning around your fingers as you move on top of him.
“like that?” you breathily asked, sliding up and down his cock in a slow, unhurried manner. rafe can only hum in response, sucking and drooling around your fingers. you feel his cock twitch, and judging by the way his hips keep bucking up into you, you can tell he’s close.
you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth, and that seems to trigger his release. he cums with a loud groan, gently biting down onto your fingers. you gasp, jerking forward as you cum as well, fluttering your walls around him.
“jesus, baby..” rafe lets out a breathless laugh when you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth. “felt nice, right?” you giggle, leaning down to press little kisses to his face. he smirks, squeezing your hips. “don’t be gettin’ any ideas.”
but you’re already thinking of how pretty he’ll look with your hands wrapped around his neck.
the windows of rafe’s range rover are already fogged up, the low hum of the engine still running as you straddle him in the driver’s seat. it’s late, the beach parking lot deserted, just the crash of waves outside and the heavy sound of his breathing.
rafe’s hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t move you yet. he wants to watch.
“slow,” he rasps, voice rough from the way you’ve been teasing him for the last ten minutes. “i wanna see every fucking inch.”
you reach between you, fingers wrapping around his cock. you lift up on your knees, lining him up with your soaked entrance, and sink down just enough for the head to slip inside.
a low groan rips out of him. his head falls back against the seat, but his eyes stay locked on where you’re joined.
“fuck… look at that,” he mutters, watching himself disappear into you inch by inch as you lower yourself, agonizingly slow. your walls flutter around him, stretching to take him, and he curses under his breath when you finally seat yourself fully, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.
you pause there, letting him feel how tight and wet you are, how perfectly you fit around him. then you start to move.
a slow roll of your hips, grinding down in lazy circles, your clit dragging against him with every swirl. his hands slide to your ass, “jesus christ,” he groans, hips jerking involuntarily. “you’re so fucking pretty like this.”
you lean forward, hands on his shoulders, and start riding him properly now. each time you drop down, he bottoms out, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, making your breath hitch.
rafe can’t stop staring. one hand leaves your ass to reach down, thumb brushing where he’s stretching you open, feeling the way you pulse around him.
“keep going, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked.
you whimper, speeding up just enough to make the car rock faintly on its suspension, your thighs trembling as you grind down harder, chasing that perfect angle.
the air inside the car is thick, humid, smelling like sex and salt and the leather of the seats. rafe’s pupils are blown wide, black swallowing blue, fixed on the place where his cock splits you open. every time you sink down, your slick coats him, dripping down to his balls, making the wet slap of skin on skin louder, filthier.
“fuck—look at you,” he growls, voice shredded. his hands clamp onto your hips so hard his fingers dig crescents into your skin. “taking every inch like you were fucking made for it.”
you roll your hips harder, grinding your clit against the base of him, and he snaps his hips up to meet you—once, brutal—driving so deep your vision whites out for a second.
“rafe—” It comes out broken, desperate.
“that’s it,” he snarls, yanking you down harder on the next drop so your ass smacks against his thighs.
your pace turns frantic. you’re bouncing now, fast and sloppy, thighs burning, tits jolting with every thrust. the head of his cock punches against that spot inside you over and over until your moans turn into choked sobs of pleasure.
he can’t look away from where he’s ruining you. one hand slides down, thumb pressing roughly over your clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.
your whole body locks up. the orgasm slams into you so hard your nails rake down his chest, drawing blood. you scream his name—raw, wrecked—as your walls clamp down around him in rhythmic pulses, gushing over his cock, soaking his lap.
“f-fuck, there it is—” his head slams back against the headrest, jaw clenched so tight it trembles. “goddamn, baby, squeezing me so fucking tight—”
he loses it.
with a guttural groan he thrusts up once, twice, burying himself to the root and holding you down as he comes. you feel every hot pulse deep inside, his cock jerking hard, flooding you until it leaks out around him, running down his shaft in thick streaks.
for a second the only sound is both of you gasping, shaking, the car creaking faintly beneath you. then he grabs the back of your neck, drags you into a messy, bruising kiss, and mutters against your lips:
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⊹ ࣪ ˖ SUMMARY ♥︎ you don’t think that your boyfriend has been paying hou the attention you deserve, so you decide to take it, even if it’s in an empty classroom.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ WARNINGS ♥︎ smut. sex in public. unprotected PIV. MDNI!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ my last kinktober fic! i had some more ideas for fics but i’ve had a hectic month but i have them written down and will eventually drop them outside of kinktober.
─── PERVERT જ⁀➴ ♥︎ KINKTOBER
for the fifth time that week, lila was complaining about the guy who was still ghosting her; you simply kept nodding and mmhming, because the first time she'd told you about him and you gently suggested that he isn't that interested in her and that she should move on because she's too good for him anyway, the girl immediately came to his defenses, talking about how he eventually always texted her back, even if it takes him a week, so he must be thinking of her sometimes.
you felt your phone vibrate in your bag, and lila didn't even notice you pull it out, a small smile appearing on your lips when you noticed it was a text from your boyfriend .
RAFE <3 [01:46] : Just finished chemistry. :)
you put your phone back into your bag, turning to your friend, "yeah, i'm sure he's gonna text you back soon. i gotta bounce, though, i have... something important. see you later."
before lila could begin to protest and launch into another rant, you'd hurried off to where you knew rafe had his chemistry lectures, a smile taking over your lips as soon as you spotted the boy leaning against the wall, looking down at something on his phone with that, familiar cute furrow in his brows.
"boo!" you walked up to him, only for your boyfriend to turn to you with a wide smile, making you pout, "i didn't startle you." "oh, you totally did. i nearly had a heart attack." he grinned playfully.
you laughed, rolling your eyes and taking his hand, pulling him along with you, "come on. i have a free period."
you led rafe into an empty classroom, the boy furrowing his brows as he registered his surroundings, "what... what are we doing here?" rafe chuckled softly. "we are making the most of my free period." the lock clicked shut behind you as you bit down on your lower lip coyly. "nobody uses this classroom on wednesdays. we could have fun."
"are you crazy?" rafe's blue eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "anyone could walk in."
"don't be a spoilsport," you whined, your mouth set in a pout, "i've checked the schedule. nothing's booked for this classroom." you mumbled quietly, bringing your lips to your boyfriend's neck, leaning closer to press warm kisses on the soft skin there, teeth nipping at him, soothed by your tongue darting out from between your lips.
"nngh, we really shouldn't be doing this..." rafe whined, only for his hands to land on your waist, pulling your body to his, your boyfriend's head tilting back to give you better access as a quiet whine left his lips.
"i don't think you really mean that…" you mumbled into his neck, your hand trailing up the back of rafe's neck, softly stroking the short strands of hair there. "you're impossible to... god... say no to..."
rafe's hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the teacher's desk with ease, his large, warm hands slipping under the fabric of your cropped sweater as your hands worked to unbuckle his belt, "you've been too busy lately..." you whispered, your soft lips traveling back up to his, quiet words mumbled, caressing his lips. "i've missed you."
rafe's belt clinked as it dropped to the ground, a rough, low groan leaving his lips when he felt your hand start palming the growing bulge through his boxer shorts. "i-i've, fuck, missed you too..."
"promise me you'll spend more time with me." you rubbed his cock, causing rafe's hips to buck up into your hand, "i promise, i promise."
lifting up your skirt, you shimmied the pink lacy pair of panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as you pulled rafe closer to you. "good boy." you smiled coyly, tugging his pants lower along with his blue, plaid boxer shorts, his cock standing at attention. spitting onto the palm of your hand, you brought your hand to the base of his cock, giving him a long, painfully slow stroke that made your boyfriend let out a whimper that you could feel in your core as he bucked into you.
"please, baby..." rafe whined, his brows knitting together, "i need you..." you let out a soft chuckle at his pathetic pleads, giving his cock another stroke that earned you another whine, "you need me, huh? how bad? tell me." "so bad, so bad baby…"
separating your legs, you tug rafe closer by the collar of his shirt, bringing his cock to where you needed him, smearing some of your arousal onto the pink, sensitive head of his cock by teasing your folds with his length, a groan leaving rafe's lips, large hands digging into your thighs.
rafe positioned himself at your entrance, and a loud gasp left your lips when you felt him thrust into you, and you couldn't help but tug at his hair, your head tilted back as rafe's hand slid up your sweater.
his hand greedily massaged your breasts through your bralette, tugging the fabric down slightly, his thumb rolling over your hardened nipple, your back arching into his touch as he pulled back, thrusting into you again with a force that made the desk creak under you.
you connected your lips with rafe's, hips rolling against his with every thrust. your hand slid into your skirt, your manicured fingers drawing circles on your throbbing clit, matching your boyfriend's movements.
"you're… so gorgeous…" rafe mumbled against your lips between intense kisses as he basically rutted into you; you could feel him stretch you out with every thrust, the head of his cock kissing the sweet spot inside of you, quiet moans leaving your lips.
rafe's lips trailed down to your neck, breathing in the scent of your sweet perfume, teeth nipping at your soft skin, soothing the sting with small kisses and licks. "god, rafe…"
the pressure in your abdomen intensified, your walls clenching around his cock, a strangled moan escaping his throat, eyes rolling back in pleasure. "i-i'm close…" rafe panted, his breathing getting more intense, "me too…"
your hands moved to rafe's shoulders, gripping onto the crumpled up fabric of his shirt, nails leaving indents through the thin white fabric as you rolled your hips into him, one of his hands sliding between your legs, finding your clit and continuing to stimulate you the way you'd already been doing to yourself.
suddenly, rafe stilled inside of you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his thrusts showed down into a halt, a low grunt leaving his lips and you could feel him spilling into you, purposefully clenching yourself around him so you could hear him let out those pretty whines you always loved. his finger stilled on your clit, but you moved your hand to his, guiding his fingers with yours, desperate for your own orgasm; after a short moment, he seemed to get the hint, his fingers continuing their ministrations.
you rolled your hips into his hand desperately, feeling him starting to soften inside of you, until finally, all the air was sucked out of your lungs, your cunt starting to clench around him rapidly as the warmth spread from your abdomen to all around your body, your breathy moan echoing around the classroom, your body arching into rafe's as if they were opposing magnets.
once the heavy panting started to turn into normal breathing, you and your boyfriend looked to each other, letting out soft laughs.
"i can't believe i let you talk me into this." rafe shook his head, and you raised your brows, "i didn't really have to do much convincing, did i?"
18+ space only — kissing rafe while he cums. he loves it, but hates to admit it. the first time it happens, you’re riding him, arms locked around his neck while his fingers dig bruises into your hips. you know he’s close by the way his thrusts get slightly sloppier, from how his lips part and his breath picks up, yet you don’t stop riding, don’t stop kissing, you want all of him.
the second it hits, rafe tries to pull back, like he’s about to give a warning but you know and you chase, chest to chest while his head drops back against the bedframe. and you feel it all, his whole body tightening beneath you, every muscle in his stomach pulling taut, he groans roughly against your tongue, desperate and low, almost angry at himself for folding into you.
when you pull away, rafe finally opens his eyes, looking up at you like he’s caught — like he doesn’t even know how to admit how much he liked it. his mouth’s still swollen and sticky with spit, his breath’s all shaky, and he just stares at you for a second, trying to find the words, but all he can do is drag you back down for another kiss.
18+ space only — rafe loves sending you nut videos. in the dim light of his bedroom, back camera flash accentuating the glistening drizzle of precum already leaking out of his angry tip the closer he gets. “fuuck —” he groans from behind the phone, hips bucking slightly as he nuts all over himself. huge spurts of cum shooting onto his lower abdomen and thighs, more curses and your name tumbling from his lips uncontrollably. you hear a sharp inhale, then a laugh that sounds like he’s trying to catch his breath. “fuckin’ see that?” rafe says, voice hoarse. “that’s all for you, baby.”
NOTES ⭑.ᐟ babydaddy!rafe was the popular vote!! thank y’all for voting <3
WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ under 1k.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, and requests are encouraged and appreciated 🐆
the thing about tannyhill— the neighborhood was still in the mornings. no loud parties, no cars racing back and forth, no children playing outside. everyone was inside, basking in the quietness of the neighborhood.
you’d been awake for a while, staring at the sun peeking in through the sheer curtains, basking in the warmth of rafe and his arms around your torso. his soft exhales brushed against the back of your neck, causing a smile to tug at your lips.
then you heard it.
the sound of a door opening, followed by the soft footsteps pattering across the floor, then the soft creak of your door opening. june was standing in the doorway, clad in her pink polkadot pajamas, holding her stuffed bunny in her small hand.
a smile crept onto your face as she walked over, hoisting herself onto the bed and crawling between the two of you, trying to get underneath the comforter. her cheek smushed against your back, her bunny slung over your side. “mornin’, mama.”
you hummed softly, turning to face her with a soft smile on your face. you took in the messy braid over her shoulder, the sleepy flush in her cheeks, the bleary look in her eye. “good morning,” you repeated back, your palm cupping her cheek.
she turned to face rafe, a pout tugging at her lips, poking at the tan skin of his chest. “daddy.”
he grumbled slightly, shifting underneath the blanket as he threw an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sunlight. “what, baby?”
she pushed her body up, sitting against the pillows, tugging at the comforter harder— gripping it between her fingers. “bunny’s cold— she needs to be under the blanket.”
rafe barely registered what she said, his hand already moving to make room for her and her bunny. he’d bought it on his way home from work, spotting it in a little shop near the beach, paying for it without a second thought. she’d been attached to it since she was three— constantly dragging it around with her.
“daddy.”
her voice cut through his sleep ridden haze, earning a groan from his throat, peaking his eye open to look at her. “what, june?”
she rested her head on his shoulder, a small pout on her lips. “i want waffles.”
he let out a sigh, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed with a quiet grumble, picking her up to rest her on his hip. he rubbed at his eyes again, catching the grin on your lips— making his way to the bedroom door.
funny how quickly things between you and toji escalated.
inevitable, really—two bored adults cohabiting under one roof, both single, blessed with voracious sex drives, circling each other with a tension so thick it might as well have manifested into a third roommate. (fourth, if you counted the purple worm.) he’s frustrated, you’re frustrated, and eventually the solution presented itself in the most nostalgic form: #dryhumping.
“fuck… you’re really letting me do this?” he huffs, body caging you beneath his bulk as he forces your thighs apart. knuckles graze the damp gusset of your panties, testing just how wet you’ve already become.
“i said, don’t. overthink it,” you hiss, cheeks aflame as you recline against the pillows. “ugh… just rub against me. that’s it.” “tch. bossy,” toji mutters, but obedience is short-lived—soon his heavy length presses against your cotton-covered slit. the fabric clings, soaking through almost instantly as he grinds in languorous strokes. “fuck…” you breathe, legs tightening reflexively around his waist, hips squirming for more. “this—this is so fucking stupid…”
“stupid?” he huffs, humourless laugh rumbling low. “don’t feel stupid to me, baby.” huge hands cup your ass, urging your hips to lift, granting him a better angle. “feels like you’ve been needin’ this just as bad as i have.” you want to argue—for the love of the game—or maybe you just like hearing him call your bluff using his low timbre. but any smartass retort dies when the head of his cock nudges the ever-growing damp spot. fuck.
“see that?” toji groans, the pale scar bisecting his lips twitching. “you’re already fuckin’ soaked. makin’ a mess of yourself without me even inside.” your hips betray you, canting up instinctively in response to your cunt’s greed for more. “i-it’s just—”
“yeah?” after a few more teasing thrusts, he slows, thin brows furrow, lips curl in mild irritation. “nah,” he mutters, shaking his head as if reaching a verdict. “this ain’t enough for either of us.” suddenly, two thick fingers hook under the flimsy waistband, tugging at the fragile barrier.
“w-what do you mean ‘not enough’?” you pant, dazed. toji grins—that wolfish smile that makes your pussy clench in anticipation. “means i’m not gonna waste my time humpin’ through fabric when i could be inside you for real.” your eyes widen when you hear the ominous riiiiiip. the cotton splits right down the centre, torn apart by his brute strength, now nothing more than a ruined frame around where you’re dripping for him.
“toji!” you squeal, mortification and want clashing inside, hips arching instinctively. god, he’s massive—that a flurry of survival instincts and lust strikes you simultaneously. will you even take all of him? probably not. but god… you want to try anyway.“shhh.” he cuts you off with a kiss, manoeuvring his cock through the slit of fabric. the leaking, fat tip nudges against your entrance, the full breach makes your eyes roll back.
“there we go,” he grits out, finally sinking into you while hands grip your hips tight. “better, huh? this way, you’re still wearin’ ‘em… but i get to fuck you how i want.”
he wouldn’t (couldn’t) settle for anything less than all of you.
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it was a quiet day on the marine base, well, as quiet as it can be.
the sounds of men shuffling cards and bouncing tennis balls in boredom echoed through the tents.
soft chatter rose among the men, the younger boys just starting out howling and hooting while exhausted soldiers were just trying to sleep.
"man i miss girls bro" johnny sighed, his bed creaking as he leant back on it, his hands cupping the behind of his head as he rested on the pillow.
"you're tellin me" his friend replied, his lip tucking under as he groaned, johnnys first deployment being a nasty shock to his libido.
3 of them sat amongst themselves chatting about their most valued hook ups, ranking them vulgarly.
johnny rose from his bed signalling he was going to "take a leak" to his friends.
3 minutes later he was zipping up his fly while walking back down to his bed, before he felt something under his combat boots.
he looked down to see a glossy piece of white paper, bending down to pick up the picture under his foot.
he noticed a lip stain on the back of the paper where someone had pressed their bright red lipstick to the back of it
he swiftly flipped around the paper to see a photo of possibly one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. her smile radiant, skin glowing, soft sundress draped over her beautiful body, a body that would make any man fall to his knees at the sight of it.
he must have been staring at the picture for more than a minute before he snapped out of it, holding the picture safely in his hand before walking back to his friends.
"dude, look at this fucking chick" he announced sitting in between his two friends that were sat on one of their beds.
johnny held the photo in his fingers, showing his two friends as he grinned.
"fuck, shes pretty" one of them replied, snatching the photo from johnnys hand as he squinted at it. though, the closer he looked, the more he felt like he had seen her somewhere before.
"hold on, man, where did you find this. is this your girl?" his friend asked, feeling like he knew who she was but it wasnt coming to the front of his brain quick enough.
"nah, i found it on the floor. someone who can throw away a photo of a girl like that clearly doesn't deserve her" johnny beamed, looking at the picture for the 100th time. "might have to find out whose it is and get this chicks number"
his friend was racking his brain, thinking back to every picture he has seen in his life and why this was so familiar.
until,
bingo.
"fuck man, i know who this is" he finally called out, wondering how it took him this long, fear washing over his face
"thats cam-" his friend started, before being slapped on the head by his other friend sitting on the other side of johnny.
he looked over, his friend winking at him as he smirked.
"nah man, we don't know who she is, fuck. would be amazing if we did." he feigned innocence, johnnys friends knowing damn well that...
this was cameron's girl.
major cameron must have been the most tyrannical, brutal, sadistic motherfuckers to enter the marines since the first world wars.
he didn't care if you broke your leg, got a concussion or hell got shot execution style, you kept fighting, even in drills.
no one dared to squeak out more than a "sir, yes sir" around him, let alone say anything about his girl.
johnny's friends knew who she was since they had been around major cameron for a few years, seeing you once after returning from a 6 month deployment.
no one had ever seen major cameron so soft before that day, his arms wrapping fully around your body as he lifted you so your lips met his, not letting go for at least 5 minutes.
rafe cameron cared about his girl, and only his girl.
which means he cared about every single letter, picture, polaroid, and even your shitty little drawings of scattered hearts and stick figures of the two of you you had ever sent during his deployments
he cherished them like they were the most important things in the world to him, which they were. keeping them safely under his bed in a box or sometimes if one is extra special to him that day, in his pocket.
which is how one somehow ended up on the floor of the base that day, a dumb new recruit spilling hot coffee all the way down his camo pants, causing him to grit his teeth, give the boy a not so light shove (and a mental note to make him run 10 more drills than everyone else the next day) and emptying everything from his pockets so they didn't get ruined, your picture slipping off his bed as he attempted to dry it.
johnny's friend smirked as he conjured up a plan in his head, an idea coming straight to mind as he slung his arm over johnny's back.
"hey, you know who would probably know who this is" he stated, watching johnny's eyebrows raise in confusion.
"major cameron. he know's everyone girls and wives since he's at the top. he would definitely know who this is, probably even give you her number"
"for real? are you sure he would be cool with me asking, he seems a bit you know... " johnny replied, watching as the major came walking down the aisle of beds. his stomps booming, head held high, biceps larger than johnnys head straining against his black shirt, ink tattooed across his skin.
"nah nah man, he loves talkin about peoples girls, talk about how pretty she is... and shit her fuckin body. you might be off of drills for a month if you do that" johnnys friends smirked at eachother as his eyes widened, quickly rising from his bed and making his way over to the major.
the pair on the bed looked on in amusement (and fear) as they watched johnny pull out the photo from his pocket and show it to rafe. johnny's sized morphed standing next to a 6'5 tall seasoned marine corp who quickly had an even angrier look on his face than his normal resting pissed off face.
"fuck man, we should have checked if maj has a gun on him or not, he might shoot him" johnny's friend sighed to the other, knowing rafe's tendencies when anyone even dares to breath the same air as his girl.
the sound of bones cracking quickly made the pair shoot their heads towards rafe and johnny, worry evident on his friends faces.
there was major cameron stood looming over the much smaller solider, his knuckles splattered with blood and johnny unconcious on the floor from only one punch from rafes fist.
꒰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ꒱ your friends are so sick of you talking about your tutor, but you can’t help it that you’re love dumb.
꒰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ꒱ alcohol. fluff.
꒰ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ꒱ this takes place before rafe and reader started dating. inspired by love dumb by lydia night <3
PERVERT MASTERLIST
you never wanted to be with someone seriously; your idea of a fun friday night was flirting, dancing, and making out with your friends, drunk off your ass at some frat party.
but when he looked at you with those bright blue eyes, his dimples showing just the tiniest bit, you couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like to wake up to his smile each morning; and so, you made sure that he would only tutor you and you only.
you'd always been the one getting chased, but every tutoring session when rafe somehow dodged all your personal questions and attempts at getting to know him, it gelt like you were the one doing the chasing for once, and for some reason, it made you feel so alive.
whenever you made rafe laugh, causing those adorable dimples to appear on his cheeks, you couldn't help but feel like you succeeded at something grandiose, warmth immediately blooming in your chest, radiating all over your body.
"and-" you downed another shot, chasing it with punch that was made of god-knows-what, "he has such a cute smile!" you shouted over the music, moving your body along to it, "he's a loser!" your friend lila shouted back.
"no he's not!" you drank from your cup, "you know, he's not into me at all!"
"isn't that a bad thing?!" your other friend, andrea, piped up. "no! it means he doesn't want to fuck me!"
lila and andrea exchanged a look, but you simply kept smiling, closing your eyes and letting your body sway to the loud music playing around you, all the while rafe's face wouldn't leave your head.
after a while, you stumbled into the kitchen, unsteady on your knee-high boots, finishing the last drop of your drink. you took your phone out of the pocket of your skirt as you were pouring vodka onto the cup, but you nearly knocked it over when you saw who you had a text from.
you put down the bottle and leaned back on the counter, forcing your eyes wide open so face ID would recognize you, your shaky thumb going to the messages, brows furrowed at the message rafe had sent you.
"remember... george book... nest time..." you read aloud, first squinting and then pressing one eye closed, trying to make sense of the cryptic message.
you were about to reply to rafe, only for someone to clear their throat in front of you.
with one of your eyes still closed, you looked up to see a guy a head taller than you, cheek freckled and a charming grin on his lips, "hey. you here alone?" "no. 'm with friends." "well, you look alone." the boy chuckled, leaning on the counter next to you, "you want company? we could go somewhere quiet."
great. he wanted to fuck, meanwhile you just wanted to text rafe back.
you looked at him with narrowed eyes, deadpanning at him, "i'm not gonna let you fuck me, you know that, right?" "that's not what i was-" you raised your hand, shooing him away. "i know what you was doing. shoo. shoo!"
when the boy walked away, you let out a mirthful giggle, looking down at your phone; but instead of typing out a message, you went to his contact information and pressed call.
the phone rang as you walked out of the frat house with wobbly steps, whistling quietly, kicking the pebbles in front of you.
the ringing cut off, and a familiar voice spoke up, "hello?"
"hiiii." you smile as you walk, breathing in the chilly air, "how are you?"
"i'm good, i was just gaming." rafe cleared his throat, "why'd you… call me?" "well, i'm lonely! i'm walking to my dorm all alone and it's dark outside. i didn't wanna get kidnapped!" you snort, rafe letting out a huff of a laughter on the other side. "were you at a party? you don't sound exactly sober." "i take great offense to that!" you gasp dramatically, "but yeah, i was at a party. but it got too boring."
"walking in the dark all alone isn't a good idea. didn't you go to the party with your friends?" "i did, but i could tell that they were getting annoyed with me. i couldn't stop talking about the guy i like."
you grab onto a light pole and spin yourself around it, phone still in hand, "what was your message about?" you asked, pulling your body close to the pole. "somehow you manage to make me feel dumb no matter what you say. no matter if i think it over, like, eighty-two times." you let out a self-deprecating laugh.
"why? you're not dumb." "well, i'm not smart. you're my tutor. you're supposed to help me become smart."
"i just think you have difficulties with some subjects. that's not being dumb." "i dunno. sometimes i think my only skill is being pretty."
rafe cleared his throat and you continued walking towards your dorm, "you ask if she had beauty's grace? i know not but a nobler face, my eyes have seldom seen; a keen and fine intelligence, and, better still, the truest sense were in her speaking mien."
"hm. where's that from?" "it's mementos, by charlotte brontë. my mom used to read her poems to me." "not gonna lie, i never pegged you for a poetry guy."
"i used to have a wall full of post-its where i wrote down poems i liked." "no shit." you laughed softly, "you keep surprising me." "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"it's... a surprising thing." you smiled to yourself, "whenever i try to ask you things about you during our sessions, you just shut me down and tell me i should concentrate." "that's because our sessions are about you."
"well, if i ask things about you outside of our sessions, will you answer them then?" "it depends on what you ask me." "do you think i'm pretty?" "do i-"
you bit down on your bottom lip, listening to rafe clearing his throat; you could picture his cheeks turning all warm and pink, the thought bringing a smile to your face.
"...i suppose i think you're conventionally considered visually appealing."
"no, that's not what i asked, and you know it, genius." you grinned, pulling open the door to the girls' dormitory, walking towards your room, "i asked if you think i'm pretty."
"i... why do you need to know?" "i'm curious." "well... i guess, yes, i think you're pretty." "hm." "hm?" "i think you're pretty, too." "i don't think most guys like it when they're called pretty."
you chuckled softly, pushing the door to your room open, flopping down onto your bed the moment it closed behind you, starting to unzip your boots, "but it describes your perfectly. you're pretty."
"...thank you, i guess." "i'm back in my dorm." you sighed, kicking your boots onto the floor, "that's good. i'm glad you got back safe. you should go sleep off the booze." "i will." you chuckled softly, "alright, that's good. sleep well." "goodnight, genius. dream of me." "why?" " 'cause you think i'm pretty."
"alright. i will." rafe chuckled softly, hanging up and shaking his head with a small smile on his lips. he laid back, arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, not even realizing it when he was starting to fall asleep.
but somehow, as if you'd seen the future, rafe dreamt of nothing but you that night.
