#chichi!reader

“okay, but i’m serious this time,” you said, squirming back against the beach towel while rafe kissed down your stomach. “don’t, like.. do that thing with your tongue unless you’re prepared.”

he looked up from where his mouth hovered over your mound, brow raised, lips already shiny. “what thing? baby, my tongue’s got a long menu. you’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“you know what i mean!” you whined, wiggling under him, hands braced on his shoulders. “the curl..that evil curl thing. the one that makes my legs do the funky chicken.”

“ah,” he said, smiling slow. “you mean the soul-eater..noted.”

“you’re such a dick.”

“you love my dick,” he said, pressing a kiss right at the top of your slit, grinning when your whole body jumped. “and my tongue. and me.” you groaned, covering your face with one arm. “yes, i love you, now shut up and get back to work.”

“say please,” he said, licking a line from your entrance to your clit. your hips jerked automatically.

you gasped, “please..”

“good girl..” his hands instantly gripped the insides of your thighs, holding you open with casual strength, and then he buried his face between your legs like you were his first meal in a full-blown year.

you let out the loudest moan and whimper, “oh my gosh, rafe—”

his tongue worked you slow at first. lazy licks that teased more than they gave; he wanted you to whine, wanted you to squirm maybe even cry. he flattened his tongue, dragged it up your slit, then sucked your clit between his lips with obscene gentleness.

“you’re so wet already,” he said, pulling back just long enough to breathe against you. “what’s got you this needy, huh? was it the swimsuit? me telling you to bend over for sunscreen?”

“yes,” you gasped, toes curling. “you were rude about it!”

“i was honest.” he went right back in, licking with more purpose now, mouth noisy and shameless. your back arched, fingers twisting in his hair.

“rafe—fuck—oh oh my, don’t stop—” it's very obvious he didn't; his tongue flicked over your clit, faster now, then slower, then fast again. he knew exact what he was doing, and he wanted you to know that he knew. his fingers dug into your thighs to try and still your body, but you couldn’t help it, your hips rocked against his face, chasing everything you could.

“you taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, teasing you, “like fuckin’ candy..my pink sugar pussy?”

“you’re disgusting,” you moaned, your whole body tensing.

“and you’re about to cum.”

“no i’m not,” you lied immediately, not giving him the satisfaction.

he pulled back, blinked up at you, lips wet. “baby..”

you blinked down at him, wide-eyed, panting. “what?”

“you’re clenching like you’ve got a gun to your head. even your eyes are crossing, just cum.”

“don’t tell me to cum like it’s that easy—” as soon as he curled his tongue, you shrieked. it wasn’t a scream, exactly. more like a choked-out cry that you didn’t even recognize. your legs snapped around his head, body jerking from the immense pleasure and liquid coming from you.

your eyes flew open in panic. “rafe—” he pulled back, arousal dripping, stunned for half a second, then a proud grin graced his very attractive face.

“holy shit, you just squirted.” your face went nuclear. “oh my god—oh my gosh—no i didn’t—”

“you did! baby, i felt it hit my face! i saw it! dammit baby i felt it!” you tried to close your legs but he held them open, just staring at the mess. the towel underneath you was soaked. his chest was damp, and his chin was shiny.

“i—i think you broke me,” you wailed, covering your face. “i’m never coming back from this. i’m dead. bury me in the sand.”

he leaned up, kissed your wet thigh, nipped it with his teeth. “you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he said, voice softer now. “embarrassed over something that just made me hard as fuck.”

“you’re so annoying!”

“you’re so sensitive now. i could just look at your pussy and you’d flinch.” you whimpered as he blew cool air on your clit and laughed when you jerked. “stop! i’m tender!”

“i know, baby,” he said, crawling up to kiss your mouth, not caring at all that his face was soaked with you. “you’re perfect.”

“i can’t believe—”

“believe it,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “you squirted all over my face like the good little mess you are.”

“i’m never letting you go down on me again.”

“you say that every time.”

“i mean it this time.”

he just smiled, pressed his hand over your fluttering belly, right where the orgasm had wrecked you. “sure, sweetheart,” he said. “until next time.”

coco's notes: i’m having soooo much fun writing for chichi right now! and i just wanted to say the BIGGEST thank you for 5k followers—i’m seriously so grateful that any of you even take the time to read my stuff, let alone follow me! closer to the end of the month, a 5k celebration will be post so def look out for that!

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“rafe don’t, judge me.” your voice was so soft, almost nervous, while your fingers curled into the hem of your little pink cami, the really pretty yet basic one that barely covered anything. you were sitting on your knees at the foot of the bed, legs tucked underneath you, chewing your lip.

rafe blinked from where he sat against the headboard, with his shirt off. “baby,” he said, brows raised. “i’ve had my tongue in your ass. there’s nothing left to judge.”

you gasped, “rafe!”

he grinned showing his pearly whites, “just sayin’. if this is about the blowjob thing, you can relax.”

you crossed your arms under your chest, making your boobs push up even more. “it’s just—i want to. you do so much for me, and i keep thinking about it but i don’t wanna do it wrong.”

“there’s no wrong,” he said. “unless you bite me.”

you made a face, flinching at the idea, “obviously i’m not gonna bite.”

“some girls do,” he said, shifting his hips under the blanket, his cock already hardening at the just idea of you even talking about this. “you’re better than that. you’ve got good instincts.”

you narrowed your eyes, “how do you know what kind of instincts i have?”

“you’ve got natural mouth talent,” he said, smug. “i’ve seen the way you suck on your straws.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“it’s hot,” he said. “you on your knees, looking up at me like that, telling me you wanna suck my cock for the first time? baby, i’m gonna die.” you peeked up at him through your lashes, “okay, so…teach me?”

he moved the blanket back, revealing his cock—already thick, even before a touch. flushed dark at the tip, the long shaft curved slightly as it lay against his lower stomach, and his veins decorated the sides of it. when he shifted his hips just slightly, it slapped wetly against his abs—audible thwaap—leaving a smear behind.

your eyes widened, “it looks bigger like this.”

“that’s ‘cause you’re finally planning to be a good girl and put it in your mouth,” he said.

you rolled your eyes but heat reached your cheeks, crawling forward until you were between his legs. you reached out with one hand, fingers wrapping around the base, and he let out a low groan. “good grip,” he said. “now kiss it.”

you looked up, “just a kiss?”

“kiss the tip..get acquainted with him.”

you leaned in and pressed a soft, glossy kiss to the head. he twitched in your hand. “shit,” he breathed. “again.”

you kissed him again, slower this time, with a little more pressure. he tasted so clean, warm, and a little salty already. your heart pounded, but you weren’t scared. it was rafe. you wanted to do this.

“okay,” you whispered. “i think i’m ready.”

“open your mouth,” he said, lifting his head up gently manuvering his cock over your lips. “uh huh, tongue out, ah slowly. now lick the head.”

you dragged your tongue over the tip and he cursed, hips jerking up just slightly. “oh—oh okay good girl,” he muttered. “now use your hand and stroke while you suck.”

you started moving your hand, while wrapping your lips around the tip, letting it rest on your tongue before sliding a little further in. “hollow your cheeks,” he said. “not too much. yeah, just like that. fuck, fuck. chi, you’re natural.”

you blinked up at him, mouth full of cock, and he groaned again. “don’t look at me like that. you’ll make me cum.” you giggled, the sound vibrating around him, and he hissed through his teeth.

“Jesus, baby.” you pulled off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “was that okay?”

he looked attractive already with one hand in your hair. “it was perfect, but you gotta take more, baby.”

you swallowed, nodding, “okay, i’ll try.” you went back down, slower this time, easing more of him into your mouth, tongue flat while your cheeks sucked in just enough. your hand worked what you couldn’t fit, and soon you were bobbing your head, building a rhythm, spit slicking your lips, his cock shiny and wet from your effort.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he whispered. “my sweet baby, so eager to please. look at you sucking on my fat cock. fuck, sexy..” you moaned around him again, taking him deeper. your eyes watered, but you didn’t stop. you liked how he sounded. “slow,” he said, whimpering, “i’m gonna—fuck, i’m gonna cum—”

you pulled back with a wet pop, breathing hard. “i want you to.” his eyes darkened. “you sure?”

you nodded. “yeah, i wanna make you feel real good. i love when you make me feel good. i wanna return the favor, regularly speaking..”

he grabbed your chin, kissed you hard. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

you went back down, hand pumping, tongue swirling under the head while you moaned just loud enough for him to hear. it didn’t take long for his 2nd climax. his hips jerked and he groaned your name, thick ropes of cum hitting your tongue, your lips, and your fingers.

you swallowed what you could, giggling as you wiped the rest from your mouth. “how’d i do?”

he stared at you, panting. “baby..you ruined me.” you crawled into his lap, straddling him with a smirk. “that’s what you get for loving a beginner.”

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this was the final straw. just off the edge of the vanity, a soft clink as your vs lip gloss tube rolled under your stool. you could see it peeking out, glittery cap sparkling against the tile, but when you bent down to get it, your hair caught on your lashes, and your sleeve got twisted, making you finally crack.

“fuck,” you sniffled, sitting up way too fast. “fuck this stupid fucking day.”

from the bed, rafe raised an eyebrow, clicking the mute button on the remote in his hand. he watched as you clenched your fists in your lap, chest rising fast.

“what happened now?” he asked, not unkind. but also not exactly kind either.

you glared at the lip gloss. “everything is ruined.”

rafe sat up a little. “babe..it’s lip gloss.”

“i know it’s lip gloss, rafe,” you snapped. “but it’s not about the lip gloss.”

he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “okay..so what’s it about?”

you blinked; your vision blurred with tears. “i don’t know. my boobs hurt. i’m bloated. i cried at a fucking dog food commercial this morning. you used the last of the milk and didn’t say anything. and now my lip gloss is under the stool, and i hate everything.”

rafe blinked at you. then stood up and crossed the room, crouched, and retrieved the gloss without a word. handed it to you like he was defusing a bomb.

you took it in silence, stared at it, and then you sniffled again.

“you’re mad at me,” you mumbled.

“i’m not mad at you,” he said flatly.

“you are..you think i’m annoying and crazy.”

“i do not think you’re crazy.” he paused. “i think your hormones are currently committing war crimes inside your body.”

you looked at him, your lower lip trembling. “i can’t tell if that was mean or sweet.”

“maybe both.”

you let out a shaky laugh, then a sob. your hands covered your face. “i just want to feel soft and hot and normal and i feel like a hot air balloon full of rage.”

he sat next to you on the vanity stool, which was really not made for his size, but he made it work. and wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple.

“you are soft,” he said. “and you’re always hot. and honestly? a little rage balloon version of you is still my favorite thing on earth.”

you wiped your nose on your sleeve. “i hate that you’re good at this.”

“i’ve had practice,” he said. “remember last month? you cried because the sushi guy forgot your extra soy sauce.”

“because it’s not the same without the extra soy sauce.”

“i know, baby.” he nodded solemnly. “i know.”

you leaned into him, his chest warm, the loud steady thump of his heart grounding you. “i want chocolate,” you mumbled. “and maybe to cry more.”

“both can be arranged.”

“and i want you to scratch my back, but not too hard. and rub my tummy, but don’t comment on it. and tell me i’m pretty but don’t make it about how i look, just about like…my energy.”

rafe stood. “done.”

“what?”

“lie down, woman. you’re getting the full treatment.”

you blinked, and crawled into bed. he followed, bringing a heating pad, a bottle of water, and a handful hershey’s kisses he dug out of his lunch bag sitting in the corner. “you are a treasure,” you whispered.

“i know.”

he got behind you, one hand sliding up your back, nails scratching lightly. the other rested on your stomach. “your energy’s soft,” he murmured. “even when you’re being a little nightmare. still feels like home.”

you choked on a sob. “shit, you’re good at this.”

“i know,” he said again, kissing your hair. “now eat your chocolate, cry into my chest, and remember: when luteal phase rages, rafe will always remains.” you laughed through your tears, melting against him. it was going to be a sweeter night than expected.

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the second rafe stepped inside the studio, he looked like he’d walked into hell. “why is it so hot in here?” he grumbled, tugging at the collar of his hoodie like it might suffocate him. “it’s like sauna.”

you giggled from where you were stretching by the barre, legs folded, pink tights hugging every curve, your little ballet skirt swishing like a ribbon. “it’s to keep our muscles warm, baby.”

“well, my muscles are sweating.”

you turned your head, smiling wide as you watched him shuffle behind you to the row of chairs along the wall. he sat down with a heavy sigh, arms crossed, glaring at the wooden floors.

“you don’t have to stay,” you teased, pulling your leg into a split. “you could go grab coffee or sit in the car.”

“and miss seeing you in that leotard?” he muttered, not even trying to hide his stare. “not a single chance.”

you stuck your tongue out at him and finished your warm-up, spinning lightly on your toes before walking over. he looked you up and down, eyes lingering on your pink ballet flats, your flushed cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell from light movement.

“you look like a fuckin’ cupcake,” he said, voice low. “a slutty one.”

“thank you, daddy,” you replied sweetly, bending to kiss his cheek.

class started a few minutes later. miss steph called everyone to the center of the room, voice stern and sweet. you gave rafe one last look over your shoulder, tossing him a wink before joining the line of other dancers. he slouched in the chair—but his eyes never left you.

rafe watched you glide across the floor, a pink blur of grace and glitter. he watched you twirl and land and laugh when your bun slipped crooked; even watched you fail a turn and pout, and then try again harder. every time you passed by, your eyes caught his.

he didn’t get ballet, didn’t understand the french, and definitely didn't get why it mattered if your feet pointed, but he got you.

he got the way you lit up when you danced. how your whole body moved like a melody only you could hear; especially how your voice changed when you talked about class.

so when the teacher clapped her hands and said, “alright girls, partner time! if anyone brought a volunteer, now’s your chance to rope them in,” your head whipped around and locked onto him like a missile.

he raised his hands. “no..nooo, don’t even—”

“baby.” you were already walking over, grabbing his hand, tugging. “just one turn. please..please?”

he groaned like he was dying. “you’re lucky you’re hot.”

“you already said that today.”

“i’ll keep sayin’ it ‘til it stops being true.”

you dragged him to the center. the other girls giggled, watching rafe towering awkwardly in a sea of pink. he muttered something under his breath about broken toes and public humiliation.

you stood in front of him, smiling. “okay. you just hold my waist and help me turn..easy.”

he put his hands on you. “like this?”

“uh huh.” you grin, as you spun.

it was wobbly and crooked, and soon after rafe accidentally stepped on your foot. “fuck, shit, sorry—”

you laughed, pressing your face into his chest. “again!”

he sighed but did it. again and again; each turn better than the last. “you’re not the worst partner,” you whispered.

“i better be the only partner.”

“jealous, baby?”

“you’re in a room full of bendy girls in tight clothes. i’m the jealous one?”

you tiptoed up and kissed him. “you’re mine.”

he squeezed your hips. “yeah..i know.”

as soon as class ended, he grabbed your bag for you, still grumbling as he carried it. you changed quickly and came out flushed and glowing, hair a mess, and leotard peeking out from your hoodie.

“you were so good,” you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

he rolled his eyes. “i was absolute dogshit.”

“but you came, you danced, and you didn’t run away screaming.”

“yet.”

you wrapped your arms around his waist, tugging him close. “thank you, rafe.”

he looked down at you, softer now, all the complaining fading into warmth and full of love.

“you make it easy, miss ballerina.”

you smiled.

“next time,” he added, “we’re going to a boxing gym. see how you like sweating and twirling with people watching.”

“deal,” you whispered. “as long as you hold my hand.”

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your laundry room smelled like dryer sheets and that soft coconut body wash you always used; your pink panties were soaking in the little tub by the sink. you leaned against the dryer in your slippers and tiny shorts, sipping from a cup containing your milkshake while rafe rolled his sleeves up beside you, already scowling at the delicate fabric between his fingers.

“i still don’t get why we’re hand washing these,” he muttered, lifting a sheer lace pair—baby pink with a little satin bow. “you got, what, twenty pairs just like this?”

“because,” you said sweetly, twirling pieces of your hair, “they’re special. if they go in the wash, they’ll get ruined. and then what would i wear to make you cum so quick?”

his eyes flicked up at you. “you could wear a paper bag and i’d still be quick shooter.”

you grinned. “aw..how romantic.”

he dipped the panties back into the sudsy water, fingers gentle, careful even as he kept grumbling under his breath. you watched the way his strong hands worked—big knuckles brushing across lace, thumbs pressing into soap-slick silk.

“this one’s ridiculous,” he said, holding up a baby blue thong. “this barely counts as fabric.”

“that one’s your favorite,” you reminded him.

he paused and smirked. “yeah. ‘cause it’s easy to rip off.”

you laughed, nearly choking on your milkshake. “rafe!”

he shrugged, like he didn’t say anything outrageous at all. “i’m just sayin’. some of these aren’t even for coverage. they’re decorations.”

“they make me feel pretty.”

he reached for the next one, a tiny white pair with cherries embroidered on the front. “you are pretty. don’t need five-dollar floss to prove it.”

you kicked his leg lightly. “they’re not five dollars.”

“baby, these are held together by threads.”

you leaned in, nudging his shoulder with your nose. “and how do they smell?”

he stopped sniff the underwear, eyes slowly filling with lust.

“sweet,” he said. “like you and a little bit of vanilla.”

you blushed, sipping again. “i was playing you’re not supposed to smell them. we’re washing them.”

he dipped the next pair into the water and scrubbed it gently, thumbs working in slow circles.

“this one’s cute,” he said, glancing at you. “you wore it on that night we watched that trashy movie and you fell asleep on my chest before the first scene ended.”

you gasped. “you remember?”

“you think i forget what you wear under your clothes?” he leaned in, voice lower now. “i have a whole fuckin’ archive, sweetheart.”

your face burned. “that’s so dirty.”

he raised an eyebrow. “you own thirty pairs of crotchless panties and i’m the dirty one?”

“they’re for variety.”

he laughed, shaking his head. then held up a pair with strawberries on the front and lace ruffles at the sides. “if i ever see this on, it’s over for you.”

you took a sip, biting your lip to hide the smile. “noted.”

he rinsed the last few pairs, hanging them neatly on the rack by the window. the sun hit them just right—pink and cream and candy-colored, fluttering like little flags. you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, cheek pressed to his back. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“i just hand washed eight pairs of what i think were legally considered doll clothes,” he said dryly. “i better get a trophy.”

“you get me,” you whispered.

he turned in your arms, wiping his wet hands on a towel before cupping your face. “yeah,” he said. “hm, i just i’d do it again.”

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ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟꜰ ᴄᴀʀᴛ

summary ⎯♡ rafe and you get bored from golfing with your family so you guys decided to fill the time

warnings ⎯♡ public sex, smut, & language

any note (s) ⎯♡ bf!rafe x chichi!reader

the golf course was way too perfect on a day like this. the grass trimmed perfectly like new carpet, the air smelling of sunscreen and sweet tea, and the gorgeous sun shone bright enough to make your lip gloss sparkle with every little pout when you hit the ball improperly. your family was up at the seventh hole, laughing and shouting about swings, all too distracted to notice that you and rafe had lagged behind.

you sat on the golf cart, vintage pb pink pleated skirt brushing your thighs, cleavage pushed up in a tight tank top you’d picked on purpose, while rafe leaned against the steering wheel. staring at him, you noticed his hair was still messy from when you kept playing with it while pretending to listen to your dad talk about irons and drivers.

“baby,” you whispered, shifting in your seat. “i’m bored.”

rafe laughs, watching you roll your eyes, “puh-leeze, you’re always bored.”

“hey! not always,” you said, lips curling, ready to be cheeky. “only when you’re not touching me, which you haven't been doing...”

ʙᴀʙʏᴍᴏᴏɴ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ꜱᴇx

summary ⎯♡ rafe and you have passionate sex on the beach before your due date.

warnings ⎯♡ public beach sex, smut, & language

any note (s) ⎯♡ fiancé!rafe x chichi!reader

until today, you never realized how different the beach truly is at night. it is wide and expanse, waves pulling at the sand, the sky is dark, filled with an infinity of stars, and the moonlight paints silver lines over the water’s edge.

you stand with your toes in wet sand while your pink sundress is pulled tight over the swell of your stomach, the hem fluttering in the breeze. your hands rest on your bump without thinking; it is instinct now. rafe watches from a few steps away, his jaw tightens at the sight, even his swim trunks getting tighter.

“you look like a dream,” he says.

you glance over your shoulder and laugh. “i look like i ate too much pasta.”

“no,” he says, stepping closer until he is behind you, his chest warming your back. “but you do look yummy.”

he slides his hands over yours, cupping your belly. he then kisses the side of your neck, causing you to melt back against him, sighing when his lips trail lower to your shoulder. “you're staring again,” you tease.

“i have the right to stare,” he says. “you are my wife, filled with my baby. God, you are the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.” you blushed at the sweet words. “you always say that.”

“because it is always true.”

the strong scent of polish lingered in the air, mingling with the warm vanilla body mist you’d spritzed earlier. you were laying on the couch, legs stretched out across rafe’s lap, a fluffy pink pillow under your head and a wide, satisfied smile on your lips. your toes were painted fresh, glossy and wet with a dreamy baby pink, and rafe was hunched forward, big hands surprisingly steady as he carefully brushed the topcoat across your last toenail.

“okay,” he muttered, tongue sticking out as he tried to concentrate. “don’t move. i’m serious.”

you giggled. “you’re taking this so seriously.”

“you begged me,” he mocked, eyes still on your foot. “you said ‘rafe, pleaaaase paint my toes, i want it to be special.’ so now i’m making it fuckin’ special.”

you bit your lip, stomach fluttering. he was making it special. he always did. every little thing he did for you, even something as silly as a pedicure, he put his whole attention into it. his brows were slightly furrowed, mouth relaxed, tongue still pressed into his cheek.

when he finished, he leaned down and started blowing gentle air across your toes. warm, rhythmic puffs of breath that made you twitch a little.

“tickles,” you whispered.

“deal with it,” he said. “you want ‘em to dry or not?”

your other foot slid along his thigh. just a little rub over the denim of his shorts, up and down the meat of his thigh. his breath paused, then resumed with more forceful blows.

you didn’t stop at all. you let your toes graze higher, the arch of your foot nudging between his legs. he tensed, but didn’t say a word. didn’t have to. you could already feel the shape of him hardening beneath the fabric even before you pressed a little harder with the ball of your foot.

“chi,” he warns, breathless.

you looked up at him, lashes fluttering. “they’re gonna take forever to dry.”

“you’re not fuckin’ slick.”

you gave him your sweetest smile. “don’t stop blowing.”

he stared at you for a second. then huffed a laugh. “you’re crazy.” but he leaned back. let you keep going.

you rubbed slow, teasing. feet pressed against his bulge, moving in little circles, the pressure just enough to make him twitch under you. his hips rolled forward once, just a little, and you felt the heat of him, how big he was already. your toes curled.

he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “fuck it.”

his shorts hit the floor a second later. you gasped, pretending to be shocked. “oh my gosh, rafe!”

“you started this,” he muttered, wrapping a hand around his cock. thick and dripping at the tip. he stroked it once, slowly, then looked down at your feet. “don’t flinch.”

his hand guided your arch to the base of his shaft. your toes curled instinctively, heels pressing together. he groaned in pleasure, eyes almost rolling back.

“yeah,” he said, voice tight. “just like that.”

you moved slowly. back and forth. your feet wrapped around him, slippery now with pre-cum, toes brushing the head each time you stroked upward. his hips rocked into it; you watched his face the whole time—how his eyes fluttered half-shut and his jaw tightened.

“you like when i touch you like this, daddy?” you whispered, wiggling your toes just a little, dragging them down his cock with extra pressure.

he cursed, head tipping back. “you have no fuckin’ idea.”

“but you’re gonna tell me,” you said, breathy, teasing. “gonna tell me how good it feels.”

his eyes locked on yours, dark and burning. “feels like heaven, baby. just like your mouth, no comparison to how your pussy feels though.”

you whimpered, thighs squeezing together as your toes stroked faster, your heels pumping along the shaft while he rutted up into the rhythm, grunting every time your slick feet twisted around the tip.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, reaching out to grab your ankle, pulling your leg higher so he could watch the way your skin slid against him. “these feet. this polish. this dirty little brain.”

“wanna make you cum,” you breathed, biting your lip. “wanna see it all.”

his voice broke. “you’re gonna.”

and he did. seconds later, with a sharp groan, his cock jerked between your feet, thick ropes of cum spilling over your toes, hot and messy and so much. he grunted, riding it out, hips stuttering, cum dripping down your arches onto the couch.

you gasped, flushed and grinning. “rafe…”

he looked down at the mess, then at you, eyes still wild.

“guess i gotta repaint your fuckin’ toes.”

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