#construction worker!rafe

Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch, his face scrunches up into a pained expression, making her furrow her brows and ask ‘what’s wrong’ with worry painting over her features.  

“Uh, nothin’ just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to alleviate the soreness tormenting him, disturbing him from the movie that’s playing while they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven. 

“Oh, m’sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” she suggests, wanting to make him feel better.  

“S’fine, don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the TV.  

“But Rafe you’re hurting…wanna help,” a slight pout is already forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film.  

The sapphires of his eyes flicker over to her— the look she’s giving him tugging at his heartstrings and for a moment, he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him.  

“Yeah? Wanna help me?”  

She nods. 

Then, he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa, presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her.  

“Also I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says while scooting closer, raising to her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame. 

“You give massages to a lot of people?” he asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her or not. 

“No, I jus’ meant when I was little, me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns, but now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains.  

‘Good’ is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter.  

Then, she settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t-shirt before digging into his skin, feeling the sturdy muscles under her fingertips.  

“You want me to take m’shirt off? So it’s easier?” he casually suggests and her cheeks heat up. 

“Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his, which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl as he plucks at the collar of his shirt; exposing solid back muscles and soft skin.

She blinks, hesitantly resting her hands on top of his shoulders once again before kneading her fingers into his brawny structure. When a heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, she swallows before continuing to press into the parts that feel the most strained— trying to not pay too much attention to the lewd sounds he’s making.  

“Jus’ tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him begin to unspool under her ministrations.  

He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone.  

However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a noise from the back of his throat that sounds almost obscene to her ears— reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago.  

It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter.  

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts, closing his eyes in ecstasy.

He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow— he’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and he feels so relaxed he could fall asleep. 

She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh until her fingers feels so sore she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop.  

“Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes before he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his countenance.

“S’all good, thanks, sweetheart,” his words are grateful while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis, no hint of any sort of agony in sight.  

“Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?”  

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue peers down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.  

“That was nothing. It was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.” 

“Nah, m’serious, you jus’ spent almost an hour turnin’ my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs.  

“What— what do you mean?” her breath hitches.  

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you grindin’ yourself on top of me, you know?” he says while lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jawline. 

She freezes, not sure how to respond when his thumb strokes along her cheekbone before he tips her face up.

“Was so caught up forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?” 

“You mean…right now?” her eyes round out.

“Unless you have somewhere else to be?” the edges of his mouth tilt up and when she shakes her head, he leans closer; pressing his lips on hers.

However, when a surprised sound escapes her, he deepens the kiss— warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open up for him. And when she eventually does, he slips his tongue inside, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing.  

Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as he cradles her face in his palms before pawing at her waist— bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap while his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth.  

“There we go, sweetheart. Tha’s a lot better, yeah?” he murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.  

Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her inner thighs turning sticky and mind wandering in hazy vapor.  

“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin— the slight pain making her whine before he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer. His pillowy lips smear on hers all wet and messy, turning her into a moaning jumble that’s trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth.  

Then, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins to ring, making her jump in surprise and nearly fall off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright.

He merely lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips, pressing a few sweetened pecks on them before reluctantly pulling away— his heavy panting filling her ears while she tries to even out her own rickety respiration.  

Then, he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing on his feet. Her disconcerted pout follows his movements.  

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” a surprised look paints over her countenance.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might want it back,” he smiles, holding out a phone to her, the pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance; a worn-out t-shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it.

She’s not wearing anything else and he’s trying his hardest not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair.

She swallows nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never ended up doing anything when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for an entire week after the particularly long shift she’d had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder before letting her get some much needed rest, telling himself he could be patient.

However, she’s not making it very easy for him when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her at the moment— she looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms right now and slump down on her bed, crawl under crisp sheets and feel her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Uh, sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” she clumsily offers, not wanting him to go just yet.

His brows raise in surprise because she’s being uncharacteristically bold, making his mouth twist in amusement. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and jus’ wanna go home, sorry, don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown accustomed to.  

“Nah, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold before taking a look around her cozy home; picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls and leafy plants adding greenery to the small space. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him when he takes a seat around the kitchen table. And when she sits down on a chair next to him, he can’t help but stare at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up, revealing the tops of her thighs and allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out.

He clears his throat.  

“You, uh, you have trouble sleeping a lot?” he tries to focus on something else, anything else while taking a quick sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah…sometimes it’s jus’ kinda hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. Like I try to close my eyes, but then the loud voices of customers and the clinking of plates keep replaying in my head and suddenly m’wide awake, you know?”

“Is there anything that helps?” he prods.  

“Um, I don’t know, I guess jus’ trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh yeah? So, what you’re sayin’ is that you’re just usin’ me right now in order to fall asleep?” he teases, grinning when he manages to drag out another giggle from her.  

“Guess I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she blinks up at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” he jokingly huffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

He thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy; a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape his tongue.

“You, uh, you into cuddling?” he asks, noticing how her eyes round out in surprise.

“Uh— I mean, probably if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” he says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent about this whole situation when she feels almost dizzy; dazed mind reeling and her vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“You, um…you want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?”

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” his brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all m’sayin’ is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having somethin’ else to focus on ‘n shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this when he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees before swiftly getting up on wobbly feet—nearly falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at the sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he chuckles, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him rather amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle— caging her in with mindless fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter shut.  

“You good?” he murmurs into her hair.

“Mhm,” she blissfully hums, letting out a content exhale because he’s so warm and big— making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

Soon, her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy.  

‘Sweet dreams’ is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a place where the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.

- - - - - - - - - - -

She’s lethargic in her movements when she stirs from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in with Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his.

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what woke her up because it’s still murky in her unlit bedroom— the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots of her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.

Then, she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass.

There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization. He’s hard.

Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low rumble— his grip only tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” she calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel his heavy breathing against her neck—bigger hands pawing at her hips every now and then and trying to pull her closer, as if they’re not already effectively glued together, leaving her no space to move.  

She’s already beginning to grow sticky between her thighs when he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in some sort of a stupor.  

She can’t help but let out a faint mewl when her clit throbs, pestering for more friction since the soft fabric of her underwear is not even close to enough, more or less torturing her with the its cottony graze.

And that’s when Rafe finally stirs, the weight of his arm loosening like a tight knot unfurling, finally allowing for her lungs to greedily suck in the air of the quiet room.

“Shit— sorry, my bad,” his tone is gravelly, and she could swear some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides in response.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects. 

“It’s…uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries, it happens,” she rambles with heated cheeks because what the fuck is she supposed to say to that? 

“Nah, s’fully my fault, jus’ had this, uh, nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” she inquires with a yawn, perhaps slightly too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” his brows raise. 

She manages a hum.

“Well, there was this, uh, real pretty girl…‘n she had me in her mouth ‘n was lettin’ me do whatever I wanted,” he murmurs, a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh.” She tries to appear indifferent, even if there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom in the pit of her stomach.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?”

He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here? 

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she, uh, let me do this,” he confesses at the same time as he grabs at her hips again before pushing against her, earning a whimper when she can feel how big he is through the thin material of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what’re you doing?” she asks through a whine— his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Got no idea what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

“I— what are you…what’re you talking about?” her brain is foggy, unable to think straight when he’s so close. However, he doesn’t respond, merely continues the retelling of his dream.

“Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper— shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock.

Somewhere along the way, her inhale gets stuck in her throat, mindlessly moving her achy cunt over him and causing him to let out a heartfelt grunt.

“Needy little thing likes this, huh?” he helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips and dragging her over his cock— filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” he says while already slipping a hand in her panties; petting at her puffy clit, earning a surprised moan from her before she lifts up the hem of her shirt for a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Gettin’ real fuckin’ wet from me just bein’ close to you, huh?” his thumb rubs lazy circles over her sensitive button, making her cry out as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fuckin’ pants if you keep doin’ that…you wanna know what else was in m’dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“Pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, did this,” he mumbles out as he takes himself out, causing her eyes to round out when she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head on her clit— one, two, three times, and then he’s smearing it over her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean; pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out and turning her into a whimpering mess.

The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked to where they connect, fascinated. “Fuck, sweetheart, does that feel nice?” he asks, thumbing over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper and forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.

“Feels so good, Rafe, think m’gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his features while he keeps nudging his dick about halfway in and then out, never fully plunging it inside.  

“You feel so…can’t— can’t hold it,” watery droplets gather in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as her teary eyes look into larimar and she keeps rolling her hips against him, chasing after a release. 

“Go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” he encourages, and she doesn’t need to be told twice before she’s crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, fuckin’ give it to me,” he grunts, and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching—rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he finally stuffs his cock inside her, to the hilt.

Then, he’s stilling inside her and groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim— making her feel so full.

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him and burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

She thinks she could die happy right now.  

“Did so good for me, shit, should do this more often, yeah?” he says with a sleepy tinge.   

She hasn’t been able to sleep all that well and has tried her very best to avoid Rafe, albeit fruitlessly since he insists on driving her home every day and on top of that, often invites himself over or asks her to stay the night at his— not accepting her excuses about being tired and having to wake up early.   

“Why don’t we jus’…be tired ‘n wake up early together then?” his grin is playful. And how is she meant to refuse that?  

And if everything he does wasn’t already suffocating her enough, he’s now helping with the renovation of the cafe since her boss wanted to expand the business; turn the small coffee shop into a bigger one in hopes of more space for new tables and seats, because the amount of clients they got was beginning to be too much for everyone to comfortably enjoy their stay. 

Therefore, she now has to work in the same building as him every single day because (unfortunately) the renovation work isn’t disturbing the current cafe from running nor decreasing the number of customers with a sweet tooth or a craving for their usual morning coffee.   

And none of this would be a problem, if Rafe wasn’t walking around all sweaty and dusty, biceps bulging whenever he’d lift wooden planks over his shoulder or carry around different equipment— looking as attractive as ever.

And with these newfound lovey-dovey feelings trying to break through the surface, she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to stop herself from ogling him or keep her rapid heartbeats to herself whenever he wanders over for a chat on his breaks. She tries to act as normal as she can, but she can tell that he’s starting to pick up on her excessive rambling and stuttering, flushed cheeks and anxious fingers fixing her hair every two seconds whenever he’s talking to her.  

In fact, she’s certain he can see right through her, knows that she’s hiding something. She can practically see how he wants to bring it up more often than not, but seemingly hasn’t found the right way to approach the subject yet, and she can sense that she’s running out of time— can’t tolerate lying to him for much longer.   

She’s been thinking this whole thing through over and over again, to the point of her head hurting while she bakes Rafe’s favorite lemon raspberry cookies as a distraction and because he’s been working so hard she wants to surprise him; see the soft smile that makes the whole world glitter whenever he graces her with it.  

And she wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply she feels for him; how much she appreciates him but every time she tries to open her mouth, the words seem to evaporate before they’ve even begun to sprout on her nervous tongue.

Because what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is all just a casual thing for him and she’s making it into something more than it is? These bleak thoughts turn her mood sour— a pout forming on her lips as she concentrates on topping the flamingo pink icing with fresh blueberries, adding the final touches to their most popular vanilla cupcakes.

And as she’s taking Rafe’s cookies out the oven, she comes to the conclusion that she really only has two options; she either tells him or she doesn’t.

If she tells him, there’s a very high possibility that he looks at her with a crease between his brows and words about not wanting for this to be anything serious hitting her against the face. And if she doesn’t, then…well she doesn’t really have anything to lose, does she? Except maybe the what ifs haunting her for the rest of eternity.   

She tries to get rid of the tormenting thoughts with a shake of her head as she sets the cookies off to cool down, and begins to place the finished cupcakes onto the display counter, trying her hardest to just forget about it all.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

Later that day, when Rafe is contently munching on the cookies she plated for him and happily distracting her from work, someone approaches the counter; a girl with glossy lips and shiny hair.   

“Hi! Could I please get a mango matcha latte?” her eyes are as green as grass as she places her order.  

“Of course, would you like it with ice or no ice?”   

“With ice, please.”

“Coming right up,” she gives the girl a polite smile when her payment goes through.   

“You’re working on the renovation?” the girl’s attention then turns towards Rafe, making Y/N’s gaze flicker over to them as she puts blended mango into the bottom of a tall glass.  

“Yeah, the cafe’s gon’ be twice as big as it’s now,” he drawls, putting the half-eaten baked good down.   

“That’s so cool. You know, I’ve always wondered how construction workers are so strong. Do you go to the gym a lot?” a saccharine voice reaches Y/N’s ears, making her brows furrow while she measures the right amount of matcha powder, trying to appear nonchalant.   

“Uh, yeah, yeah, also think m’workdays sometimes count as workouts,” he scratches the back of his head as she lets out a giggle. It wasn’t that funny, Y/N thinks with a roll of her eyes.   

“Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d wanna hang out sometime? Could give you my number?”   

Something muddy swirls in her stomach in response to the girl’s straightforward question. She doesn’t particularly appreciate the fact that she’s blatantly hitting on Rafe right in front of her, even if she’s painfully aware that they’re not together and the girl probably assumed they were just friends, which they are.  

However, she can’t prevent herself from turning grumpy from the mere notion of him being interested in someone else. After all, the girl is stunning and she wouldn’t really blame him if he wanted to at least consider her offer.  

“Uh, m’actually not available right now,” he offers an apologetic smile when the girl’s shoulders slump.   

“No? That’s a shame. Well, let me know when that changes?” she gives him a flirty smile that makes Y/N quietly scoff as she pours the milk into the mix.  

“S’not changing anytime soon,” she mutters under her breath, making both of their heads turn towards her.   

Fuck, did she really say that out loud?  

“Sorry?” the girl asks, muted jade settling on her suddenly tense form.

“Oh, um— jus’ that…here’s your drink,” she peeps out in her state of embarrassment, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into the side of her face as she sticks a paper straw into the beverage; the ice cubes clinking together when she hands it out to her.

“Right, thanks,” she says before looking over to Rafe once more, seemingly expecting him to give her an answer of his own.  

“Uh…yeah, what she said. Not changin’ anytime soon,” his grin is wide, making the girl’s cheeks flush.  

And when it’s just the two of them again, she flits her eyes down— busying herself with a wooden container of tea bags she’s trying to organize, unable to face him.  

“What was, uh…what was that about?” his tone is taunting, an annoying smirk playing on his features.  

“Nothing,” she quickly dismisses, avoiding his gaze.  

“Nothin’? You’re tellin’ me you weren’t just real fuckin’ jealous two seconds ago?”  

“N—no,” she can’t even convince herself with the pitiful denial.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, m’all yours, alright?” he chuckles as he stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth.  

“How did you know I jus’ was cravin’ these?” he asks around the mouthful as she tries to brush aside the sudden tingle in her ribcage.   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

A few days later, when her shift is coming to an end, her other coworker already beginning to take orders and telling her she’s free to go, she drags Rafe behind the counter and practically forces him to taste test a new recipe she’s tried out; a walnut carrot cake with lime buttercream. 

“Wow, this is…amazing. The sourness in the frosting is so good,” his voice is muffled by his chewing and her heart warms in response to his commentary, never one to shy away from showering her in compliments.  

“You think so? I actually added the lime jus’ cause I know how much you like citrus fruits so, m’really glad you like it,” she beams at him.  

“Yeah? Made this jus’ for me, huh? Can I ask why m’gettin’ this special treatment all of a sudden?” his tone is playful, tongue licking over his bottom lip to clean up the bit of icing lingering there.   

“Well, cause I love you and—” she blurts out before her entire body tenses; mouth hanging open in shock and wide eyes slowly moving to look at him, trying to verify whether he heard it or not. Of course he did. She wasn’t exactly quiet now, was she?   

“You…you love me?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“Uh…I— I didn’t mean to…I mean, you probably don’t feel the same so doesn’t really matter. Just— um...jus’ forget I said that. I don’t know why I—”   

“What are you talkin’ about? You think I spend most of my time with you cause I…what? Dislike you? You can be so silly sometimes, you know?” he scoffs, setting the golden fork down on the porcelain plate.  

She stays silent. 

“What I’m sayin’ is that m’obsessed with you. I mean, you’re even in my fuckin’ dreams, right? But listen, love has always been a little, uh, tricky for me cause m’relationship with my family has always been, uh, complicated? But if me wantin’ to spend every second of my day with you means I love you too, then, shit, maybe I do. But I need some time before I can really say that shit, you get that?” his words are honest and raw and she thinks her rattling heart is going to beat out of her chest.  

“I— um…yeah, of course. Take all the time you need,” she finally manages out.  

“Hey, c’mere,” he says before he’s practically dragging her dumbfounded form into his embrace; — beefy arms pulling her flush against his chest.  

“I mean, we’re basically already datin’ at this point, no? Wasn’t sure how to make it official without freakin’ you out but since you love me, think you’re all good, yeah?” 

She mumbles something incoherent in response.  

“So wanna be my little girlfriend or what?” he murmurs into her hair.  

“I— of course I do,” she speaks against his shirt.   

“Yeah?”   

“Mhm,” she hums before he tucks an index finger under her chin and lifts her face to look up at him—his thumb toying with her bottom lip before he’s leaning down and smearing a sloppy kiss against her mouth.   

“Shit, you’re so adorable, jus’ wanna swallow you whole sometimes,” he murmurs with a soft smile tugging at his lips and eyes twinkling with something syrupy in them.   

“I love you,” she mumbles, almost inaudible; words still too tender to consciously say out loud.   

“Say it again,” he practically demands.  

“Um…I love you,” her voice is nearly a whisper.  

“What was that? Think you can say it a little louder?” he teases.   

“Rafe, stop…you’re embarrassing me,” she whines, cheeks heating up.

“No, m’not. Jus’ wanna hear you say it,” his smirk is all big and smug and it makes her huff.  

“ILOVEYOU, okay?” the words mesh together like fluffy clouds in the sky and her volume is louder than he’s probably ever heard it, causing a couple of curious heads to turn and the lively chatter around them to quiet down some.   

“Yeah? You guys heard that? She LOVES me,” he’s nearly shouting, looking around with a stupid grin on his face— making her flush and hide behind her hands as a few customers cheerfully titter in entertainment.  

“Congrats, dude!” someone even yells.

“Oh my god, Rafe. Why would you do that?” her mortified eyes widen as she crouches down; trying to find shelter behind the pale-yellow counter. “M’never leaving my house again,” she complains with a glare.   

However, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the whole thing, simply chuckling with dimples denting his cheeks— the light-hearted sound making her stomach flutter despite the humiliation crawling up her spine and making her want to vanish into the cracks on the floorboards.   

“Of course you are, m’your boyfriend now which means m’takin’ you out on a date tomorrow, yeah?” he lifts her up with a grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him while his fingertips slip underneath the hem of her shirt, smoothing over her bare stomach and making her let out a squeak.  

Then, he’s grasping her jaw in one hand and pressing his mouth on hers again— her protests withering away like a dead rose when he slips his tongue past the seam of her lips, dragging out an involuntary whimper from her, before she pulls away and hides her face in his chest when she feels multiple pairs of eyes staring at them.  

“Rafe, can we just go already?” she pleads, voice small before he’s guiding her out of the coffee shop; his hand resting on the small of her back and calming her down some. 

And he thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, especially when she smiles at him all bashful, trying to hide the way her eyes round out and her breath gets caught in her throat whenever he leans closer to her; asking what she’s doing after her shift with a slow drawl.  

And while she’s busy answering, he lifts his thumb to her cheek to swipe away a smudge of flour dusted over the skin there, lingering for a second too long. “Messy girl,” he’d murmur, purposefully trying to make her blush, taunting her.   

Slowly but surely, his visits become the best part of her day when she realizes she’s beginning to harbor fond, gooey feelings towards the slightly older guy who makes a show of loudly humming in satisfaction when he bites into a raspberry chocolate muffin she’s baked, honey dripping from his tongue when he showers her in compliments.   

And he seems to be pleased when she diverts her jittery eyes from his gaze and tries to busy herself with swiping a rag over a spot on the countertop (for the fourth time already), sneaking glances at him indulging in the confectioneries she’s practically forcing him to taste test now because whenever she tries a new recipe, she always wants him to be the first one to try it. And he’s not complaining.   

When he finds out she walks home by herself, even late at night, there’s no other option for him but to insist on driving her home because he doesn’t like the idea of such a pretty girl walking alone in the dark, doesn’t like it at all.   

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t wanna be a bother, m’fine,” she denies him immediately, to which he merely furrows his brows; telling her it wouldn’t be a bother at all since he can often work quite late as well— practically demanding to know what time she gets off that night. And she has no choice but to hesitantly reply, his stern tone almost compelling her to give into his every wish.   

It becomes a routine for them; him waiting for her to finish up cleaning and her mumbling out a soft thank you when he holds the door of his truck open with his palm on the small of her back guiding her inside. Whenever he teases her about being his little passenger princess, she practically melts into a puddle on the seat; trying to hide her flustered face from him, but failing miserably.  

And no matter how many times he’s driven her home, she still feels rather overwhelmed in the small space of his car, a plum tinge heating up her face whenever she feels his eyes on her, catching her staring at his big hands. She doesn’t know why he’s allowed to have such alluring details in the first place; a singular gold ring adorning his index finger and his strawberry lips so inviting.  

Therefore, it’s not really her fault when her mind gets lost in a haze and her brain turns foggy when she notices how his strong arms flex whenever he turns the steering wheel while his thumb taps against the leather. Or when his blunt fingernails scratch at the slight stubble on his face and she wonders how it would feel on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs or— 

“You, uh, you good, sweetheart?” Rafe asks and she blinks, realizing he’s asked her a question. A question her dazed cerebrum has no recollection of.   

“Sorry?” her face burns with embarrassment.  

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “What’s on your mind, hm?”   

“Oh, um— nothing, just, uh, tired and…stuff,” she attempts to sound convincing.  

However, his grin only widens. “Yeah? So, you, uh, you tellin’ me you weren’t just checkin’ me out?” his tone turns into something patronizing.   

“What? I— no, no I was just—”  

“Relax, m’just fuckin’ with you,” but there’s a mocking glint in his eyes that indicates she’s not being very subtle. 

“Asked if you were hungry?” he flits his eyes to hers once more.  

“Uh...yeah, sure. Don’t even remember how long it’s been since I ate lunch to be honest,” she starts to ramble, trying to ignore the murky thoughts trying to breach the surface.   

“Why don’t you, uh, come over to my place then ‘n I could make you somethin? Jus sayin’...I’m a great cook. Feels unfair that you’re always the one fillin’ up my belly,” he says as his mind starts to concoct a few other ways he could fill up her belly, willing to bet that she’d let him.   

After all, he’s not an idiot. He sees the way her moony eyes travel down his features whenever she thinks he’s not paying attention— thinks it’s absolutely adorable how sheepish she gets about it. However, he’s hesitant about the right way to approach it, not wanting to scare the shy little thing away.  

Therefore, he opts to warm her up with a homemade meal, and afterwards let her have a sweet treat; fuck her dumb until tears trickle down her cheeks and she’s a whimpering mess. He knows he could make her feel so good, wants to show her just how much she’s missing— wants to make her beg for it and wants to be a little mean about it, but most of all just wants to make her his. 

She mumbles out a soft thank you, and even if the thin material really doesn’t weigh a thing and it wouldn’t have been a bother to hold onto it herself, she still feels all gooey inside from the sentiment.  

They have lunch at her favorite place; a small picturesque restaurant with leafy vines and scarlet roses trickling down the brick wall as they sit outside on a little patio, enjoying their meals with cheery bluebirds chirping and the passing laughter of pedestrians on the lively streets as their background music. And when their tummies are full of yummy food, they decide to get ice cream.

But as they’re padding along the pavement and she’s mindlessly licking her cone, some of the sweet treat drips down her chin without her noticing.  

“You’re so messy,” Rafe tuts and reaches out to grab her jaw in his hand, angling her chin to face him before swiping a thumb under her bottom lip—catching the cold dessert and tucking the digit into his mouth, humming when the strawberry ice cream melts on his tongue. 

Her eyes round out at the nearly obscene sight.  

“Mm tha’s good, but mine’s better,” he thinks out loud before laving his tongue over his own mint chocolate chip flavor.  

He notices her gaze linger, the corners of his mouth tugging up. “Want some?” 

“Uh…no. It tastes like toothpaste,” she complains, trying to clear her suddenly foggy mind with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” he grins. 

“There’s no good way for ice cream to taste like toothpaste,” her brows crease. 

“There is, alright? Here, try it,” and instead of offering his cone to her like a normal person, he dips his thumb (the one that was just in his mouth) into the frozen delicacy and pushes it past her lips before she has the chance to refuse. 

A sound of surprise escapes her throat when he presses down on her tongue, letting her get a proper taste of the minty sweetness. He lingers for a moment too long because suddenly, there’s an itch in his lower abdomen, the sight of her sucking on his thumb urging him to push another digit in, make her gag around his fingers.  

He clears his throat, an attempt to shake the thoughts away before he’s pulling his thumb out from her greedy little mouth, no complaints or grumbling about toothpaste following after. She merely blinks up at him, seemingly having lost the ability to speak with her doe eyes all dumb.

“S’good, right?” he asks, a mocking lilt to his tone. 

“Mhm,” she manages out, brain mushy and mind clouding over with a starry haze that seems to follow her for the rest of their walk, merely nodding and humming out responses to his questions while he finds it all entirely too amusing, unable to wipe the taunting smile off his face.  

When a group of people pass them by on the narrow sidewalk, Rafe settles a heavy palm on her waist, pulling her closer and preventing her from stumbling into them. However, instead of removing his hold on her after they’ve successfully bypassed them, he opts to slip a warm hand in the back pocket of her jeans; tugging her to his side once again. And she really can’t contain the stupid smile from pulling at her lips in response.

Absentmindedly, he continues on with whatever story he was telling her (she stopped listening the moment she felt his touch on her) as if this is all completely mundane for him and they aren’t walking around like an enamored couple right now.  

Then, as if for good measure, he mindlessly squeezes her ass with the hand stuffed in her back pocket, causing her to look up him, but there’s merely a lazy grin hanging on the raspberry mouth she remembers kissing just the other day on his couch. Her brain nearly short-circuits and she has half the mind to scold him. After all, they’re in public and he’s practically groping her.

However, she’s unable to open her mouth when he gazes down at her— his eyes mirroring morning dew underneath the amber glow of the waking sunbeams.

“So, what do you think?” the question suddenly breaches her eardrums, making her pause.

“About…what?”  

An amused chuckle tumbles from his throat. “Said your boss wanted to renovate the cafe, right? Could, uh, help with that, give her a discount ‘n shit?” 

“Oh. That’d be— great, yeah. I’ll make sure to…let her know,” she barely manages out because his palm resting on her ass is making her thighs press together and it’s getting more and more difficult to inhale and exhale like a regular human by every passing second.

Once they’re back in the shelter of his truck, instead of starting the engine, he turns to look at her, causing her to shift ungracefully in the leather seat, trying to ignore the ache deep in her marrow that’s been bothering her the whole way back.

And since he’s wearing shorts, her eyes zone in on his thighs, heavy lids blinking as she tries to avoid his stare. 

“You want somethin’?” he raises his brows.

“Hm? No… why would I—”

“You think I don’t see the way you keep lookin’ at me?” he rasps out. “Been feelin’ a little needy after you sucked on m’thumb, haven’t you?”  

“I…um—” 

“Bet you’re so sticky right now, must be uncomfortable at this point, no?” his face creases in faux concern as a faint whine leaves her. 

“C’mere, yeah?” he encourages, patting his thigh before she clumsily wobbles over the console, settling on his lap.

“Didn’t tell you to sit there, did I?” he says before lifting her up and setting her back down so she’s properly straddling his thigh. “Now that’s better?” 

“Rafe…someone could see us,” she suddenly remembers, turning her head and peering through the car window at the busy parking lot; girls in bikinis carrying towels, couples laughing and chatty families all thriving under the beaming sun.  

“Honestly don’t really give a shit. Why don’t we just…let them see how much of a dirty girl you are, hm?” he grins, showcasing pearly white teeth and making her whine in response. She flits her eyes towards the window once more, inspecting the seas of people loitering about, but she doesn’t think anyone’s noticed them yet.

However, she doesn’t have any more time to observe before he’s yanking her back to face him once more, fingers digging into her jaw.  

“Look at me,” his brows furrow, seemingly upset that her attention isn’t on him. 

“Sorry, I jus’...” 

“Relax, alright? They can’t even see your face, just a horny slut humpin’ me,” he reassures her before mushing her cheeks together and smudging a sloppy kiss on her lips when she drags out his name, flushing in humiliation.  

“Why don’t we, uh, take these off, hm?” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for a response before he’s dragging down the zipper of her jeans. Then, he’s tugging them down her legs, leaving her in just a flimsy pair of underwear.  

She gasps when she feels his firm thigh against her drippy cunt, relieving some of the tension in her limbs.  

“This shit gets you off, doesn’t it? The fact that anyone could jus’ look through the window and see how fuckin’ desperate you get for me?” he asks, something mean glinting in his eyes. 

“Go on then, if you want it, you gotta work for it, yeah?” he leans back against the seat, his long legs spreading out and a smirk painting over his face as he simply gazes at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt more embarrassed, cheeks burning when she gives a tentative roll of her hips against him, whimpering out because the fabric between them is not only paper thin but also soaked through at this point.  

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel good?”  

She mewls, nodding all frantic and rutting against his thigh some more. Then, he’s plucking at her panties, pulling the sodden material to the side and allowing for her to really feel the sturdy muscles there; skin to skin. She grows louder and louder as her swollen clit keeps bumping against him, making him smear his mouth over hers— muffling her whines when her thighs begin to grow sore.  

“Rafe…m’tired— can you…”

“You’re tired, huh? What if I’m tired too?” there’s something in his mocking question that tells her he’s anything but.  

“Rafe, can you jus’— can you help?” 

“Where’d your manners go, hm? Why don’t you ask nicely?”  

“Rafe please, need to…can you help me please need you to— need you to help,” her distressed eyes are turning watery when he merely chuckles, low from his chest. 

“You don’t even know what you’re sayin’ do you? Get so dumb every time we do this, couldn’t even fuck you properly before you passed out on me that night in your bed, remember?” 

“That’s not fair, I was so sleepy—” 

“Wha’s not fair is me havin’ to do all the work while you jus’ whine like a helpless baby,” his voice is condescending, making wet droplets stain her cheeks.   

“M’sorry, don’t mean to...”  

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says while gripping at her hips, supporting her weight and dragging her over his thigh, making her moan out loud.  

“Can’t do anythin’ yourself, can you? Need m’help with everythin’ yeah?” his rugged paws roll her hips against him, hard, again and again.  

“Mhm. Need you—” a loud noise leaves her throat when he suddenly pushes his leg up against her— forcing her puffy clit to harshly rub against the skin that her weepy cunt has made so wet, to the point where he can feel it whenever she glides against it. “Rafe, m’gonna…” 

“Yeah? Gonna soak m’thigh for me?”  

She whimpers when he presses her down firmer.

“Shit, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters out, blue gemstones fixed on her trembling form before the knot in her stomach begins to loosen— the piece of yarn snapping as she begins to unspool in his arms, crying out because she feels so delighted she doesn’t know what to do.  

“There you go, jus’ do anythin’ I ask, don’t you?” he murmurs, her head dropping against his steady chest while his blunt nails scratch at her scalp.  

There are stars in her eyes, nearly a full-blown galaxy while his strong grip steadies her and makes her feel like nothing else matters; only this moment. Him and her.  

And she wants to stay in the safety of his hold forevermore because she’s positive the only reason her poor heart is beating these days is because of him.