honeyinthesummer

[honeyinthesummer]

if you followed me to check on updates for my TOO HOT TO HANDLE (RAFE CAMERON), i haven't even started posting it yet but i don't think i'm gonna post it anytime soon. i'm sorry.

i don't have the energy to deal with it now and it's the type of fic that i want to be steamy and dramatic and so far anything i've come up with are not on par with my expectations. there are some rough drafts but the inspiration to just push through it is not there.

however, i ended up focusing on some simpler and less tense works of mine. i feel like making my colin x daycare principal! reader a thing (with a moodboard and all + series of blurbs and scenarios) because it's my favorite project of mine and i find it so adorable! on top of that, i'm excited for some second chance romance with rafe as a sucker for feeling that pang in your chest.

lastly, i feel like venturing this account to write for some nhl athletes (leon draisaitl is one heck of a MAN.) but i'll mostly follow up on my evan peters and drew starkey wips.

i wouldn't be as active as i was this summer because classes are starting and i took up accountancy being the dumb shit that i am LOL. i'm so excited for their upcoming projects and the new source material i could work on!

[honeyinthesummer]

i just turned 19 💥 i'm full of new energy LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

[honeyinthesummer]

"omg i look sooooo gray."

"no, you don't."

"i'm going to take pictu- what?"

"what? you don't look gray."

"i said great."

you could hear a pindrop. kyle has suddenly paused his movements, his eyes meeting your glare in the mirror before facing you properly.

"i thought you said gray! i'm so sorry. you're absolutely drop-dead gorgeous right now people will question how can i handle all that."

his apologies are muffled when he envelopes you in a warm embrace, but now your giggles drown his frantic explanations.

"just kidding. i totally said gray." you joke.

he's not an explosive or reactive kind of guy when you mess with him like this, but he'll probably headlock you just to have you wheeze and wiggle free from his grasp before you'd actually turn gray.

he'd remember this trick and pull a reverse card on you. sometimes he could pull it off with a serious facade. you can't prank him ever because he'll just do it better.

[honeyinthesummer]

rafe is bald and he's terrorizing people with hair!

inspired by the totally spies audio "she's bald and she's torturing people with hair!" not proofread.

"my dad is bald and he's torturing people with hair!"

laughs bordering on screeches fill the atmosphere of your moving car. you're on your way to the beach with rafe and the kids, and there's nothing rafe enjoys more than speeding down an empty route with the windows down and the music blasted up.

rafe gently shoves away his daughter's phone from his face, but that doesn't stop rhian screaming from the backseat and recording the frenzy happening right now. her long hair is up and blindfolding her brother rio's eyes.

"i have a buzzcut! i'm not bald!"

the music is long forgotten now, their voices blending in together (they're mostly yelling). you'd think you'd be overstimulated but no.

car rides have always been eventful even when it was just you and rafe. he likes the freeing nature of being alone in the road, mumbling tunes and letting the wind hug you.

you know it enough that you spent 20 minutes in the shower just for your hair alone, making sure your shampoo and conditioner settle in fine to avoid a birdnest hair disaster on the way to the beach.

your children obviously don't share the same ritual as you.

"dad, please roll the windows up now." rafi pleads.

"you guys are dramatic. bunch of divas."

"men who look like they belong in an egg tray don't get the permission to speak right now."

rafe's fakes a hurt gasp to what rhian said, his eyes looking at you as if saying she did not just say that.

you reached out a hand and placed it gently on his thigh. when you softly gestured to the windows button at rafe's side, he rolls his eyes at you before begrudgingly saying fine.

you could finally hear the music again, the vibe in the car finally calm and somewhat peaceful. turning back to see the kids, you could see rafi and rhian fixing their hairs, while rio's tight curls stay on handsomely.

"hair ties for my sisters."

rio stretches out his arms, pink and purple hair ties around his tanned wrist. your heart clenches at the sight of your youngest baby waiting patiently for his sisters to grab them, but instead they lean over to his car seat to smother him with kisses.

when rafi and rhian's mess of a hair tickles rio in the face, he squeals.

a/n: i think rafe's eldest would be a girl and name her after him like rafaella aka rafi. he'd oppose to favoritism but he'll give her special attention the eldest children deserve

[honeyinthesummer]

hii! as u asked for some requests, can u write one where kit walker sleeps over his gf!reader house bc she is having a really hard time going through something personal in her life and kit wants to comfort and reassure her... so that he cuddles her in bed and keep running his fingers through her hair while talking to her and stuff, also telling her stuff of how he dealt with bad things that ge went through in briarcliff?

kit walker x gf!reader. comfort. 670 words.

"The last thing you've thought of before you sleep will be the topic of your dreams."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is! Why do you think I'm sleep-deprived for the past few weeks?"

Your voice breaks at the last few words in your futile attempt to make small talk to ease your nerves. Kit's heart clenches at the sound of it.

"It's like I can't catch a fucking break."

Even if you're baring yourself to him now, you've only given him bits and pieces of your conflict, not enough to help him paint a picture or give appropriate advice. But the way it eats you up to the point you refuse to sleep because you know your mind will just play games and let it haunt you in your dreams, he's never felt as useless.

"The longer I sit this one out, the more chokehold it'll have on my life. Every time I close my eyes to take a moment, it's all I can see. It's all I can think. It's all I can hear. And I'm just so tired. Why are bad things always happening to me?"

Hot tears pool at your eyes, and the room seems warmer and smaller.

Kit brings his hand to your face to cup your cheeks. You're the picture of vulnerable, bordering on giving up. Besides loving you, Kit must ensure you don't lose your spark.

"I wish I could take away what's eating you, love. From all I've heard, you don't deserve to be this shaken over something you didn't want to happen in the first place. It seems like you got caught up in something you had no intention of occurring, and you're getting all the lashes for it."

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Briarcliff. You got caught up in something you never wanted to happen in the first place. It wasn't your intention to hurt women. You beat yourself up for it."

He doesn't respond momentarily, and you just realized how ridiculous you sound. Not only are your circumstances different and irrelevant to another, you just forced him to unpack all the hurt he's been trying to heal for years.

"Just to be clear, you're bent on something you never wanted to happen in the first place?" Confusion seeps in at Kit's sudden question, but you nod.

"You know, I seriously believed I was responsible for those women for a while. Maybe every accusation they hurl my way carried an ounce of truth somewhere. And I let myself get lost in it, and I was ready to own up to the rumors."

"But someone told me if I'm starting to believe what they say about me, then that means I'm completely innocent. Because I would never doubt myself if I were the one who had done it. I guess what matters is when you know the truth, you fight for it."

You don't respond. You looked at Kit softly, taking in the man who's been in way worse conditions than you'll ever be, and still managed to be the gentlest person you know.

"You're not saying anything," Kit laughs nervously. "I just gave a shit advice."

Laughter bursts from you, and whatever fear Kit had in him dissolved quickly. He takes in the sight of you, your cheeks up and red, your lips in a smile, probably the first time in a few weeks.

"No, you're right." Your hand fidgets with Kit's ring finger, tracing your name on his skin. "Some situations are out of our control, but that doesn't mean we must give up. I shouldn't let it throw me off-balance."

Your boyfriend listens intently as you fully explain to him what's been eating you up for weeks, and he reels in how your uneasiness stems from the worry of other people's thinking of you after what happened. But this time you're eager. Braver even. Because you just told him how to stop this and claim your well-deserved peace. Attagirl.

a/n: i'm sorry this took long! i hope it brings justice to what you asked <3. i give shit advice btw so this was hard... JSKAJSJSJHEHE

[honeyinthesummer]

daycare principal reader x dad colin zabel <3

warning: VERY LONGGGG BCS I AM COLIN DEPRIVED. not proofread HUHU

colin who would fetch you from the daycare when your schedules match. he'd bring a simple bouquet of different flowers every week. but when he's joined by your toddler son cohen when he's also done with daycare for the day, cohen would hold a smaller version of their gift, all smiles and at the ready to give them to you.

colin and cohen, who compete on who can give you the grandest bouquet every time they visit. this started when you pointed out that cohen, at the age of just 16, is now standing tall just like his dad. he would tease that colin should be the one holding the smaller bouquets from now on.

colin who would help you prepare your staffs lesson plans and activity sheets for the day. sometimes, when he likes the stickers you're preparing for the kids, he can't stop himself but steal one and paste on his laptop. you'd nag him, telling him now you'd print another one because he just stole from a kid but he just smiles goofily at you.

bonus — your son cohen also inherited this habit from his dad. fruits, cartoon characters, even if it's just stickers of the alphabet, they feel the need to claim one as if they're also part of the class. if colin sticks his collection to his laptop, cohen decorates his phone case with it.

colin who one time seriously considered rating your students' names for baby names inspiration when you were still pregnant with cohen. he liked your student max, thought catherine was a good sweet name for a girl, but one day it just clicked in you cohen and went with it. catherine was a contender for a girl baby.

colin who felt lost when raising a teenager cohen with you. he wasn't exactly a rebel kid but everyone has that phase. as someone who's line of work lets him firsthand witness the ugliness of the world, he was rather harsh and firm with his rules. they argued a lot, with cohen hurting his dad's feelings by saying he's suffocating to be with.

you comforted your husband that night, his eyes red and his breathing unstable. you don't miss the way he's trying to be quiet, not wanting your son to hear how his father is right now.

you whispered lovely things to him, reassuring him that he is such a strong father for being able to recognize and set how to make his kid feel safe. you also share his same need of protecting cohen, because as a teacher and principal with literal kids, there's nothing you'd want more than a safe and happy place for their innocence and childlike wonder to remain.

you talked to an apologetic cohen the next morning after colin went in early to work. you told him that there will still be boundaries, rules, and curfew, but it will be eased a bit provided that he behaves and cooperates. you made sure he understands that his father is only right to be that strict, but he doesn't have to be harsh. cohen only nods and goes off to school. for the next years, he's never caused trouble.

colin who enjoys roadtrips with his family. the car is full of laughter, music, and memorable silents. you try not to sleep much during long drives to entertain colin, but his light and loving touches to your hand and thighs lull you to sleep.

colin who once had to bring young cohen to work because you both had changes in schedule and your usual nanny is not available for your rush notice.

luckily, the cases that day were nothing serious. colin and another officer were in the middle of writing up a few people for vandalizing when they hear the familiar sound of a spray. they turn their heads to see cohen using one of the confiscated spray paints and crossed out the word SHERIFF in the beat up sheriff truck, replacing it with "DADA'S CAR" just right above the word easttown, the wobbly blue writing looking radiant against the old car.

thank god they weren't using his black land cruiser that day.

colin argues with your students as they wait for their guardians to show up and for you to finish your files in your office. he doesn't hesitate grimacing at the statement of a kid saying paw patrol is the best cop show ever. this led to the kids uniting against your husband, cornering him with reenactment of the show's best moments. when your husband teases them why paw patrol sucks, someone said they don't expect much coming from someone who looked like they enjoyed cocomelon. colin took offense and that was the loudest the kids had ever been in your daycare.

when colin was assigned to a case a few towns over for a few weeks, it was one of the hardest time between you and cohen. two of your teaching personnel just relocated to another state, so you're short-staffed and forced to work shifts between sessions of two different age groups. on top of colin being tied up to his work, you just had to drown in yours at the same time and leave cohen all alone.

this is what you've been avoiding. as someone who grew up with a father who is a principal in a school a few hours away, you sulk in the fact that other children get to see him more than you, his own biological child. you don't want cohen to feel what you felt, and so far you have managed with colin to work with a schedule that at least leaves one parent with your son.

that night, you were about to come up to your son's room when he heads down the stairs, your teaching materials in hand. cohen doesn't notice you but instead sets everything down in the living room, cutting up papers and stapling things.

when you told him that he doesn't need to do this, he insists. "dad won't be here for a while so i'll take his job. you can watch your show here or take a nap. i won't touch the things that are too complicated for me so it won't be messed up."

you almost dialed colin to ask him who the fuck has been raising this gentleman in front of you. you sat beside cohen, giving him a kiss on his forehead, before grabbing some things to prepare your work. you both talked about your days, and when you were an hour in working, you allowed your son to order whatever his craving is as a thank you.

cohen lights up and grabs the telephone eagerly. so here you are, 10 in a tuesday evening, munching away a huge box of pizza with two flavors while a show plays in the background. you saw cohen keep a star sticker for himself and placed on his phone case. you don't reprimand him, but instead asked him to reach for his phone and call his dad goodnight.

[honeyinthesummer]

You hate it when Rafe messes your hair.

He didn't realize it at first. Rafe's got you on all fours one night, his hands tracing from your hips to the arch of your back when his right hand mindlessly grips your hair. He tugs at it harshly to make you kneel upright against him like he had always loved when you wiggled out of his touch.

Caught up in a sex haze, he lets you straddle him, your warmth enveloping his cock once again. Your hands creep their way behind his head. Rafe was about to kiss you when you surprisingly yanked his hair before whispering don't do that again.

He thought it was because you weren't in the mood, so he didn't dare to repeat it that night. But when he was fucking you from behind in a cramped closet at a random party, his fingers dug into your scalp for a moment before he tugged at it to feel you closer to him. Let's just say you've made it clearer than ever before that you don't love it.

"Was I too rough on you?"

His voice had an edge, but his blue eyes glaze at you with concern. You settle your book on the center table before standing up and settling on Rafe's lap, his fingers automatically tracing patterns on your thighs.

"I just don't like it," you say. "You know how much effort I put into caring for it."

"So is it like off the table now?"

You think for a moment. You know how Rafe can be mad in bed, but you reel in how he puts your comfort first.

"I mean, you can grip on it? But not necessarily harshly pull. My hair's my favorite part of my body, so no one can ruin it. Not even you, Rafey." You sheepishly said, mumbling a few sorrys.

He doesn't say anything, but when he got you laying between his legs that night with your upper body nestled against his chest, you directed his free hand to your head before sleepily muttering, "put me to sleep, Rafey."

Your boyfriend's fingers hesitantly snake through your hair, his nails lightly grazing on your scalp. He knew he was doing right when he heard you hum in appreciation. His other hand leaves his phone just beside him before he starts brushing the long strands, and he notes how his fingers brush over easily, how it is silky and giving off sweet vanilla scents from the products you've begged him to purchase for you.

Rafe continues massaging your scalp when he finally feels your full weight on him, and you are now in a deep, happy slumber.

Sex can be intense between you two, so it took him time and strength to stop himself from pulling your locks. But he remembers how your lips pout in concentration as you meticulously shop for your hair care products, the long showers you take, and how you jokingly said you prefer a punch in a fight to the typical catfights of hair pulling.

You've always been thorough with your appearance, curating looks and scents that make people believe you deserve the Kook Prince. It makes his blood boil whenever you say that because you shouldn't be after people's approvals, constantly wondering if that skirt is appropriate for the girlfriend of a Cameron or if your makeup comes off as too strong for the conservative ladies of Figure 8. But when he sees how you obsess over your hair, it stems from your personal needs and not from the impression of making others like it.

Rafe makes it his mission to spoil you when you shop, trying to make you admit what you want for yourself instead of nurturing a persona for others. It's this confident and contented glow you have when you're in your element and when you feel like you can do whatever you want without the fear of being judged.

So if someone makes an uncalled comment about your appearance, if Rafe isn't jabbing them, best believe he's finding a way to stitch their mouths close forever.

a/n: yooooo i don't like hair pulling HEH

[honeyinthesummer]

# .... kai anderson slaps you mid-argument

dad!kai x mom!f reader. violent argument. 1k words.

"They are too young for this."

You continue to ramble about how it's only been a year since you legally adopted them. That even if Daphne and Kaiser are now adults, it's not yet the right time to include them in action—particularly in ones that involve murder.

But your logic falls on deaf ears as Kai paces back and forth, running a hand all over his face in frustration. Nothing has been going his way. It's been such a grueling week, full of rejection, that the last thing he needs to hear from you is how foolish you think his plan is.

You were in the middle of justifying your decision when you felt a sharp sting on your right cheek. Before you could register what happened, the back of Kai's hand landed another blow on the same place, before faintly muttering a "shut the fuck up."

"That hurt, you son of a bitch."

"I could've broken your nose if I wanted to," he says dismissively.

You weren't exactly a stranger to Kai's outburts, but it's been years since he lashed his anger on you. Looking at him—his fists clenched in fury but his eyes laced with remorse—for a moment, you were sure he was about to revert to his old self: uncontrollable, impulsive, and unforgiving.

"My answer is still no. We're not taking the kids to the mission."

You stood up, aiming to appear firm and final, but Kai just snickers at your stance. He ruffles his hair in exasperation, then steps back just a little bit to have one more go at you. However, before he could deliver some pain once again, Kaiser barges in and shoves his father down on the floor, Kai's hips hitting the drawer beside him in the process.

Daphne storms in after her brother and takes you in her arms, standing unbothered between you and Kai, as if you to shield you against him.

Your husband curses out loud, but before he could attempt to stand up, Kaiser kicks him in the knee, forcing Kai to fall back on the floor and groan in agony. Afraid of what he would do to his son, you took Kaiser by the wrist and settled him behind you, along with Daphne.

"How long have you been listening?" you gasp, not wanting the kids to be in the same room as a furious Kai.

"Long enough to realize daddy's turning into grandpa."

Azi's sweet voice accentuates the tension in the air, her presence leaves you and Kai stunned. Dressed in her favorite pink Sunday dress and a plushie resting in her arms, she looks at Kai by the door, disbelief and disappoinment visible in her doe eyes.

The moment those words left her lips, you held on tightly to lead them out of the basement, abandoning a distressed Kai. He sits in silence, the words of his favorite kid coming back to him, each recall hitting like a wave, giving him no time to think and breathe.

While you were up in Daphne's room, she tends to your bruise with a gentle touch as Kaiser rambles about how disrespectful his father was. Azi sits on her sister's big vanity, her tiny hands holding your hair so her big sister can apply some cream on the sore spots.

"Fucking asshole. If he wasn't your husband, I would've squared up, ma."

Daphne was quick to shush her brother, but you don't miss the way she's gripping the cloth hard, her efforts in masking her disapproval with what her father did through feathery dabs of medicine on your skin. Azi goes down from the vanity and gently settles on your lap, not wanting to further hurt or surprise you.

"That wasn't my daddy," she says out loud, her voice full of conviction. You slowly start explaining how the argument began and the way things took a violent turn was completely unintentional. The three of them were quick to cut you off, refusing to listen to some bullshit story, claiming their ears are open for apologies coming from their dad, not to excuses.

It was a draining conversation, and a painful one on Kai's end. He brings his fist up to knock, but then he hears a comment from Azi—the same comment that knocked the air out of his lungs.

How her daddy is turning into grandpa.

His hand stays stranded in the air, his fist curled tighter, feeling how his nails keep digging deep into his skin. He can hear how you're defending him against the rowdy children, your faltering voice being overpowered by your angered kids. You don't stop to protect him, though. Kai takes a step back and decides not to interrupt, walking down the hallway instead.

There's no way he's going to turn into his father and let the family you've worked so hard to accomplish and love suffer the same tragedy as Kai's own. He was desperately hoping you wouldn't cling to what Azi said, let alone realize how he's started to fall back to the destructive path once again.

a/n: i like writing dad fics of characters just so i have an excuse to use some baby names i surely won't be using lawlsz

[honeyinthesummer]

set my only angel (evan peters) private bcs i'll revamp it for a moment

[honeyinthesummer]

three's a party — rafe cameron.

nsfw. sofia x female pogue reader ft. rafe cameron. fingering. 1.3k words.

This is a big no-no — a non-negotiable.

Just when you thought you hit your luck in meeting a handsome, remarkably hot, and filthy rich man, there had to be an insane catch. Rafe Cameron just had to sell and use drugs, with Barry, of all people.

You've heard things about the man, and none were praises. How were you supposed to assume that the Rafe who makes it his mission to buy beverages from your cart, tip you generously, and compliment you with deliberate touches just below the hem of your short uniform of a skirt is the same Rafe who came from a family of murderers, capitalists, and scandals? With the rate of people talking about the Cameron family, it's not just mere gossip anymore. But you don't immediately accept evidence of some semblance of truth because, after all, to see is to believe.

Well, your ignorance has almost made you act on your fantasies about the fine man, possibly tainting the image you've been carefully crafting if word gets out you tried to get in the pants of a suspected murderer and, apparently, drug dealer. As a pogue, you've been working jobs to carefully build your dreams of joining the corporate world of Malibu. Working in a prestigious golf club has aided you in forming connections with established people, courtesy of your easygoing and flexible personality.

If you dream is about being proper and part of Malibu's high society, sleeping with a criminal in the making is undoubtedly not one of its steps.

When Barry sneakily handed a pouch, and Rafe accepted the drug money, you immediately turned on your heels, ready to call it a night. You didn't notice that Sofia was already behind you, and she caught your realization, so she gripped your arm tight, a pout on her face.

"Nooo, baby...I swear he fucks good!" She yells to you over the club's booming music, the lights highlighting the puppy eyes she's giving you. You keep shaking your head, but Sofia turned her grip on your arm into a side hug, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

"If word comes out that I approached first and tried climbing that tree, people would think I'm crazy and siding with an offender."

"Yeah! But if we make him approach us, people will think we're victims and clueless about it. That way, we get to sleep with him without people thinking we're sluts!"

Considering what Sofia had just said, you glanced at Rafe, but there he was, already observing you two. Sitting comfortably on a black leather couch by the corner, he sipped a drink. His gaze was somehow intimate as if he knew what you two were talking about and was preying on your dilemma. The flashing lights are suddenly in hues of blue, the color somewhat enhancing his aura, his vibe now addicting.

Sofia's soft pinch to your sides shifted your attention back to her. If you talked to Rafe first, people would assume you're a gold-digger. If Rafe approached you first, it'd be like a predator after his prey - a natural fate in this world, unstoppable. Besides, you're a pogue even if you stay close to kooks as you work for them. It'd be just like a language barrier, two worlds apart, where you're not relevant in the other's bullshit. There's no way you could've known he's a lawbreaker, right?

"Okay," you say softly, looking Sofia in the eyes. "Let's give him a show to watch."

Your lips collided in an instant. It was intense and eager, and the feeling of your friend's soft lips on yours proved addictive. You could taste some whiskey; the sweet kiss and presence of your favorite liquor taste made you hum. Sofia harshly nibs on your lower lip, her tongue dominating yours. You don't back down and return the energy with so much fervor, your grip on her waist tightening by the minute. Her hands slide down to the edge of your red mid-thigh dress to cop a feel of your ass, her fingers having caught on that you're close to wearing nothing underneath—just that thin red lace set of yours. Sofia lets out a small, breathy moan at the discovery, her hands now dangerously toying with the fringe of your dress.

When the DJ's upbeat and booming music transitioned into a sultry 2000s beat, Sofia broke off the kiss before turning you around and pulling you closer by your hips, and you both immediately started to jam. Nothing about your dance steps was innocent. You both were shamelessly grinding and twirling one another, giggles escaping your lips from time to time. You could feel his stare, this time more fierce, his attention on you both undivided.

You've almost forgotten about Rafe, drowned in your world with your girl friend. Sofia gently pushes you away after you slyly planted a love bit on her neck before taking you by the hand to head to one of the backdoor rooms of this club. You passed by Rafe, now part of the crowd, when Sofia gently pushed him to get past. His arm holds on immediately to your intertwined hands, and you swear you've heard you and Sofia let out a short, sharp gasp at the same time to the feeling of his hot skin against yours.

His piercing blue eyes gazed upon yours, amusement shining in them. He loosens his grip but lightly trails the length of your arm with his pinky.

"Having fun?"

You feel the words clump at your throat, this closeness making your brain haywire.

"Could be more fun. Right?" Sofia calls out your name, and you nod.

"Something's missing, but I don't know what, though." You added, feigning innocence. Sofia's lips curved into a smile before she continued walking, not letting Rafe utter a word.

You swear, when you get past him, you feel a feather touch right by your ass, the electricity sending heat to your core. A few quick strides and you open one of the lining doors, but before you and Sofia enter, you both decidedly take one last glance behind you.

And there was Rafe Cameron, walking oh so casually, but the way he's got his thumb cooly brushing over his lip, his eyes on you both, the steps he's taking towards your direction looking so determined.

You gently close the door, not locking it, and then Sofia hurriedly pulls you towards the bed. She kisses you again, making you stumble on the bed, and she lands on your lap. Your arms snake around your waist, one hand staying in that position, the other caressing her thighs. Your make-out session this time is relatively tame, feeling the nervousness from Sofia.

"We're doing this without him?" You asked in between kisses when you felt her now grinding on her thigh. "Well, he's taking too slow. If he doesn't want the hint, screw him. I still have you." She whispers, and you moan at the teasing touch of her fingers on her core. Sofia pushes you down to lay on the bed, briskly moving your dress up to your tummy, her hand automatically reaching for your clothed cunt.

When Rafe opened the door, your girl friend promptly inserted two fingers in you with no prep, forcing a loud moan from you. Sofia heard the door click, but she ignored it, focusing on your pleasure instead by moving her fingers fast, her digits teasing that sensitive spot in you. All you did was spare him a quick glance before cupping Sofia's face, her lips swallowing your loud cries. You mutter a firm "close the door", and you swear Rafe had moved as fast as lightning. He's probably gonna cum like that this night, too.

note: i've been meaning to release some rafe cameron x golfcart girl pogue reader x sofia series (drabbles as a throuple) because she is so drop-dead gorgeous and kind and should be walking rafe around on a leash. what do you think?

[honeyinthesummer]

my sister says doing text gradient here takes time how do you do it easily do you think my lazy ass can do it bcs i cannot stand the default green...and red...

[honeyinthesummer]

atonement — rafe cameron.

warnings: nsfw, oral (m!receiving), f!reader. 1.1k words.

SUMMARY: Rafe assures Ward that you've made it up it to him for setting his motorcycle on fire.

"Nu-uh, you don't get to complain, girl. Fucking take it all."

You let out a faint whimper at the feeling of Rafe's cockhead hitting the back of your throat, your hands holding on to his thighs to keep yourself from gagging. His hips buck, and you bob your head to meet his thrusts, earning a groan from him. Ward's voice booms from the laptop again, and you don't miss the insult he's thrown your way.

"It's the pogue in her, son. Don't deny it." You could hear disapproval laced in his voice. Rafe retrieves his hand on your shoulder to unmute his mic while the other forces you down to keep sucking.

"Yeah, no, Dad. She said she was sorry. It was all that Maybank's fault."

"And you're really gonna believe her? She trashed your motorcycle and lit it on fire. She is accountable as much as that fucking JJ. Spoilt, and a total airhead she is."

You abruptly stopped what you're doing to retort to Ward, but Rafe's got to you first, his free hand covering your mouth harshly. His eyes are on you, full of warning, and you know better than to disobey Rafe after what you have done to his treasured bike. You bit his finger out of frustration, and then a loud smack came your way as your boyfriend's hand left a stinging mark on your cheek, totally displeased with what you've done.

"Rafe? You okay? What was that?"

He held eye contact with you until you surrendered, putting your mouth to work to give his tip apologetic kisses, both of your hands moving up and down his length.

"Y-yeah, that was nothing. Don't worry."

He glares at you in warning before going back to conversing with his dad. They continued talking about you, Ward convincing Rafe to ditch you and go after this one Kook girl that's a family friend, but your man defends you, reassuring Ward that you're a good girl and have been atoning for your sins.

Insult after insult, you redirected your anger into pleasuring Rafe. You focused on the underside of his cock with some kitten licks while your hands worked their magic on what you can't swallow, pressuring a bit harder than usual, your pussy leaking at the sight of cum oozing out of your boyfriend's slit. But it's the way Rafe talks to Ward as if nothing sinful is happening under the office table, his voice steady, his breathing stable.

You deserve this punishment. You helped your friend JJ ruin your boyfriend's bike without knowing it was his, but you don't appreciate the way Rafe controls himself as you slut him out. You want your efforts to be adored, appreciated, and acknowledged.

His right-hand snakes its way through your hair, his left cupping your cheek to lead your mouth back on his cock, and in one swift thrust, you take all of him at once, causing you to gag out loud. Rafe adjusts himself and sits by the edge of the seat before pushing your head up and down at a fast pace, his hips fucking your face from time to time. You could hear Rafe mindlessly grunt short responses to his dad. When you look up, you can see beads of sweat on his forehead, his curtain bangs falling softly to his face, his chest heaving.

The sight of him coming undone in front of you and his dad sends heat to your core, so you shift yourself a bit and sit on Rafe's foot; the feeling of his firm leather shoes under you does wonders to your cunt. Rafe jolted a bit in surprise only to see you grinding heedlessly on his foot, your mouth making noises in a mix of gagging from his tip abusing your throat and a few moans from rubbing your clit on his shoe. You look up at him, letting out a loud whine when you lock your eyes, and something feral just awakened in him.

He says a quick goodbye to Ward, not letting his father utter another word, before ending the call and shutting the laptop fast. He takes you off him and stands, dragging you out from under the table by pulling your hair. You let a wince from what he's done, muttering a few "so unfair" and apologies in between. He tugs you to kneel upright, and before you can say something, he shoves his cock again in your mouth, both of his hands gripping the top of your head as leverage, then he starts to pounding into your face mercilessly.

His thrusts are relentless and unforgiving, his hold on your head painful and tight. The pain and pleasure make you moan around Rafe's length, the vibration clinging to him as he shudders. You don't feel like your boyfriend's about to slow down anytime soon, so you put your hands on his hips and then meet his thrusts, your jaw hurting and your drool creating a mess on your chin.

"You had the fucking nerve to ride yourself on my foot," Rafe says breathlessly, the way he pounds in you never easing. "Soooo nasty...s-so undeserving." He continues to taunt you, screaming how a slut you are, shaming your kink for wanting to be seen by Ward giving his son a blowjob, and all of these just send your brain haywire that all you can do is gag, moan, and cry at the intensity.

With one final push, Rafe cums in your mouth, his hands now at the back of your head to lock your mouth around him. His tip reaches the back of your throat, your breathing constricted as you are pressed by his abdomen, that all you can do is scratch his waist and his thighs, tapping out for you to breathe, but he never listens.

Rafe stills and groans as he shoots his load, plunging again for you to milk his cock. Out of frustration, you cupped his balls and squeezed them hard, causing Rafe to buck himself into you for the last time, his mouth letting out a pathetic whimper you didn't know he was capable of producing. Feeling smug, you bobbed your head once again, your hands giving his balls attention as well, and you smile as he lets out another pitchy whine.

Gone is the stoic and toxic boyfriend who wants to punish you. In is the submissive part of him, all putty in your hands, his undoing up to your mouth.

[honeyinthesummer]

Bestie I love your writing hehe

thank you for appreciating it bestie!! 🥹🩷

[honeyinthesummer]

faith and pride — kit walker.

dad! kit walker, fluff, kit comforting his daughter. 664 words.

SUMMARY: Lecturing your daughter for slashing her ex-boyfriend's tires leaves Kit emotional.

"Baby, your feelings are valid. But you shouldn't have gashed his tires like that."

You've been lecturing your daughter for a good few minutes now, but all she does is lay down in her bed, facing the wall and sporting that pout whenever she's rebellious.

"The man had sex in his car before he fetched Katherine, mom. I believe he deserved worse than that, but you did great, sis." Knoa interrupts from behind you, and you groan about how your son is just igniting the fire in your daughter that you've been trying to put out. Reaching for one of Katherine's pillows, you playfully throw it toward your son, but Knoa just catches it with a giggle.

Kit scoots beside Katherine at the foot of the bed, concern etched in his face and laced in his voice.

"Did you make us change his tires because you felt bad?" Your husband asks quietly, caressing Katherine's legs in comfort.

"No," she replies, her voice muffled as she cuddles her plushy tight near her face. "He didn't know how to change a tire. He offered to call his mom for a tow truck, but she didn't respond. He wouldn't also like to call his dad because he sneaked out with the Audi. Bastard told me we had to wait out in the woods until his mom answered."

Your eyes widen at the revelation while Knoa snorts out loud at the boy's loser behavior. It was hurtful enough that your daughter's boyfriend hooked up with a girl right before their date, and it would've been torture to leave Katherine with him for a few more hours somewhere isolated. Luckily, Kit's auto repair shop was just a few streets down.

"My poor baby." You say as you lean to her, wrapping your arms around her and resting your head on the tip of her shoulder.

You almost felt bad for focusing on what she did more than what was done to her, and you can feel Kit joining the pile, hugging you both, and planting sweet pecks on both of your heads.

"Besides, I had to show him how it's done." Katherine gently pushes you both away so that she can sit upright, her eyes red, her face stained with tears.

"Had to teach him shit. We don't have cars as grand as his, but at least we know how to take care of it, even the basics. Besides, it felt good showing off how we Dad and Knoa do it as he stands there, useless."

Knoa agrees with a loud uhuh, and you swear Kit is blushing right now. You raise a brow at him teasingly, and he just shakes his hand, his lips trying to stop a smile.

"Well, at least you should know that you deserve a better man. But if you still feel like crying over it, you don't have to rush yourself to heal."

You said softly, but Katherine wiped off her tears, shaking her head, and now she feels better.

"That won't be necessary. Why would I bawl over a guy who's not even half the man dad is?"

Your heart tightens in a good way at what she says. And you recall how Kit answered her call on the first ring, yelled for Knoa to come with him, and left with the shop's truck fast with the wheels screeching—your husband, their father, who the three of you can always rely on.

If you thought Kit was blushing over how his daughter relies on him, it's his turn to shed a few tears. He tries to play it off by wrestling Katherine for a hug, her laughter and squeals lightening the mood. Knoa joins by launching himself into the cuddle fight, making Kit wince and earning a harsh smack from Katherine. You stay where you are, taking in the beautiful sight before you.

"I will always be there for you, suga." You hear Kit whisper to Katherine, gifting both of your twins soft kisses on their foreheads.

[honeyinthesummer]

VIDEO PHONE — rafe cameron.

warnings: nsfw, f!reader, reader is a sex worker, 1.2k words.

SUMMARY: Out of impulse and lust, you decided to film yourself on Rafe's phone.

What you're about to do is way above your pay grade.

Rafe is specific in what he wants. You've never tried it out with him; he hasn't asked you to, but you just feel like it. It's one of those early mornings when he allowed you to stay over at Tannyhill, your favorite client, probably in his father's home office drowning in paperwork.

You spot his phone getting charged by the corner, and you feel like Rafe won't be coming up soon, so you take that as a sign to do it. Standing up, you swiftly locked the door before prepping with a quick bath.

It wasn't clicking the record button the hardest thing to do; it was choosing the right angle that compliments you. Ultimately, you lean his phone against a pile of pillows by the foot of the bed, press record, and prop yourself against the headboard. Fingers fidgeting and taking off your purple lacy set that Rafe is obsessed with, your toes curling in anticipation, you start the show.

It took you longer than you expected, but you sensed he would appreciate the extra few minutes of the footage. Stuffing three fingers in your hole, you attempt to mimic the way Rafe fingers you, but it's just not enough, and now you have your other hand rubbing circles in your clit, the sensation leaving you panting and overwhelmed.

"Need you, Rafey..." you moaned just enough for the phone to capture, your legs closing in now and then due to the pleasure. It takes all of your might to keep your thighs apart. The windows of his room were slightly ajar, causing the curtains to flutter, and the sunshine gave the most natural lighting for your video. The sunrays hit your skin warmly, the light helping you appear blissful and extra erotic, the essence leaking out your cunt and dripping down your thighs being highlighted.

Screw Rafe for fucking you so good you can't bear to do it alone anymore.

Taking out your fingers, you sat on your heels, watching yourself on the phone as you lustfully lick your digits, releasing them with a wet pop. You crawled forward, taking a pillow from the pile behind the camera, your tits swaying at your every move. You returned to the center of the frame, folding the pillow, and let the stiffer part settle right below your cunt.

You whimper at the feeling, a wet patch forming in the spot you're sitting on, the black pillowcase now extra shiny. You take it off below you before facing the camera sideways and sitting on it again, letting Rafe see how your back arches.

It was pure filth. The way you were a moaning mess, your aggressive grinding on his pillow, and now you can feel it. You sat once again to face the camera, opening your legs as your fingers played with your pussy, letting the camera film the exact moment you felt your high, leaving your middle finger in to fuck yourself to prolong your orgasm, overstimulating yourself in the process. You moan and grunt Rafe's name, along with the strings of "please, sir" to rile him up.

Finished with your stunt, you charged his phone again, put his sheets in the laundry, and bathed. You noticed the hard cash he left by the bedside table for your service last night, grabbing it before heading out, afraid to face Rafe after what you did.

It wasn't like you needed to kiss him goodbye. After all, he's your client, not your boyfriend, even if the lines in between in the past few days have become blurry.

You told your regulars not to text you for a week as you will spend some time with your family outside the island, in your hometown. Your favorite and most demanding customer, of course, disagreed, and you swear he's masking his true feelings under the pretense that he doesn't want to be denied pleasure whenever he wants. That's why you did it, leaving him some souvenir for when he misses you, which you hoped he would.

But he didn't text you, though. Not a single letter, not even a call, makes you spiral whenever you're out of your family's view. He probably didn't check his gallery, just skimmed over your video, or maybe he has seen it and sent it to his kook friends, laughing and reeling at your desperation.

At some point, you decided not to return to the island. If you would, you would just ghost Rafe, not bothering to tell him you came back. But guess who's waiting by the docks, shades on and leaning against the hood of his black cruiser? Ignoring how your chest thumps in nervousness, you approach him, your grip on your bags tight.

You don't know how it led to this, but you're certainly not complaining. Because here is Rafe right now between your legs, one hand behind your thigh to fold it up your chest, the other lining his cock to your entrance. You whine at the feeling, begging him to just fuck you already.

"So fucking needy, dollface," he says breathlessly. "So. fucking. needy." Each word he stressed was equal to a single thrust into you. When he bottoms out, Rafe adjusts your position. He sits on his heels and wraps your legs around his waist, grabbing his phone to record where you guys connect, capturing how your precum eases him, sliding in and out.

And with one hand on your hips as leverage, Rafe pounds into you mercilessly, the noise of his cock abusing your cervix filling the room.

"This is what you're after that day, baby?" he grunts, bringing his phone closer to your cunt, watching on the screen how you take him so well, your pussy all wet and bruised. "Three fingers? You think three fingers is enough to make it feel like my cock?" You blissfully nodded, and he laughed at your reaction. You bring down your hand, one to toy with your clit, your digits applying more pressure, and the other hand pressing down on the bulge of your tummy every time Rafe thrusts in.

He doesn't let you come quickly, oh no. Rafe was pissed you did such a thing behind his back, knowing he wants to be there every time you pleasure yourself. Just as you were about to cum, he pulled out of you, making you sit up immediately at the sudden emptiness.

You felt something light hit your face, and now a pillow suddenly rests on your lap. You look at Rafe, confused, who is now standing at the foot of the bed, his cock upright and slapping against his abs, his precum tainting his skin. He ushers to the pillow on your, his hand busy pointing the phone at you with the flash on.

"Show me how you made yourself cum that day, doll. And I might just let you ride me next."

[honeyinthesummer]

the most beautiful thing — colin zabel.

fluff, daycare kids, dad!colin zabel. 688 words.

The foyer is vibrant with the innocence and laughter of the kids circling around the gentle giant struggling to stay seated on a kiddy-sized pink stool. Colin watches in awe as the kids perform for him the new dance craze in the daycare centre, girls to the right showing him their drawings, boys to the left toying his hair with yellow star-shaped clips.

You could sense Colin getting a little bit uncomfortable, but you know it's because he's struggling to give every kid the attention they deserve when they're all flocking at him at once. Still, you decide not to approach him yet, leaning to the doorframe of your office, taking in the wonderful sight in front of you.

Colin claps as the performance comes to an end, complimenting the girls for their uniquely artistic talent, and thanking the boys for making him extra handsome with the hair clips, reminding them to do the same for their mothers and sisters.

You laughed as the kids spoke at once, their excited voices coming off as one roar, shocking and overwhelming Colin with the number of kids he has to tune to and give love to. Your coworker notices the commotion and guides the kids to a room where they can wait for their guardians and not gush over Colin all at once. Colin thanks your fellow teacher, bidding the kids goodbye, as they walk away from him with slumped shoulders.

You finally walk over to him, reaching for his hand to help him stand up, before cupping his face to greet him with a chaste kiss on the lips. Colin lets go, his face glowing with love as he sheepishly hands you a simple bouquet of your favourite flowers. His smile falters, though, as if he immediately remembered something, and he speaks in a panicked voice.

"Can you tell Eris I really loved her art? I don't think I was able to tell her much how I appreciated it because Kelsey and Azi were speaking over her and — oh lord, I don't think I looked at Mike when I clapped for their dance. He must've thought I didn't notice him or something—" You cut off Colin's cute rambles with another kiss, and you can feel him relax in your presence, totally surrendering himself to you.

You thought Colin surrounded by the daycare children was the cutest scene ever. That improves five years later when he's by the foyer once again with a tiny boy, the baby's hair now showing a bit of curl, his brown little doe eyes looking back to your husband, babbling a mix of coherent and random words.

They're both holding a bouquet and Colin helps the boy grip carefully the smaller one in his hands when they have finally noticed you. You swear the air feels lighter when you three lock eyes as if their smiles replenish your energy.

"The first one to give Mama her flowers gets to love her the most!" And as if Cohen could understand his father's full sentences, your toddler runs and wobbles towards you, his hands up in the air, the flowers lightly swaying as he moves. You laugh at Colin, who runs in short strides, letting Cohen happily lead.

You kneel down and open your arms, cheering Cohen towards you. Colin yelps in fake agony but is now side by side with his son. Cohen takes a look on his left and Colin then sends a small mocking wave to his way. Now with all his might, your toddler speeds towards you, lunging to your hug, his small arms holding on to your arms.

You both let out a huge hooray as Colin stands beside you, his arm on his heart, crying crocodile tears for losing. Cohen notices his dad and immediately ushers you to let go of him, then immediately latches on to his daddy's leg, his free arm patting Colin's thighs in comfort. Once again, your baby looks up to Colin, now with flushed cheeks, adoring his sympathetic baby.

Colin with kids hits so differently, but it's definitely a sweeter picture when he's with your son.

[honeyinthesummer]

taxi — quicksilver.

nsfw. minors dni. not proofread

"Peter, let's just swoosh back home, please..."

"Dollface, you're tipsy. If we swoosh back to the mansion, the whiplash you'll get will make you forever hate me for it."

You whined at his refusal, your head falling on his chest, feeling extra impatient and lustful. You cling to him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulder, your hands toying with the hair at the back of his head. Looking up to Peter, you can see how the moonlight defines his glorious features. Particularly those lips that seem to know the perfect thing to say at the right time, that has poured words and trailed kisses on your body in worship.

Tiptoeing, you captured Peter for a kiss, your hands cupping his face. It takes the silver man a split second to adjust before he responds to you, his arms possessively wrapped around your waist.

Angling your head, you lightly bit on Peter's lower lip, wanting more. Having caught on, he lets your tongue battle, your lips show the fervor, and your whimpers reveal your need.

Breaking it off, you immediately gift his cheek feathery kisses before whispering on his ear, your hot breath fanning against his skin.

"I swear to god. If you don't speed us back home, I'll make you take me right here and now."

You thought your not-so-threathening threat would trigger Peter to move fast, but he only stares at you, his eyes now darker, his irises flicking something wanton.

"Don't threathen me with a good time." He whispers against your lips, saying your name softly, his hand creeping up to your right boob, squeezing it harshly.

You were about to retaliate when you spot an available taxi, immediately hailing it, getting right in first and leading Peter with your intertwined hands. You waste no time telling the driver the address of the mansion before climbing over Peter's lap, kissing him once again.

Your mouth this time is demanding, and it took all of Peter's will to reject your advances. You whined loudly when he slightly pushed you away, your brows furrowed in frustration.

"We're in a goddamn cab," he says your name sternly. You wiggled on his lap, feeling bratty and pissed, but his hands were quick to settle you still, his eyes now widened as if to warn you.

"But I'm horny..." You whispered rather cutely, attempting to attract Peter, but the man was quick enough to stop you when you tried to grind again on his hard-on.

"You fucking wait," He lectures you in a low voice, the faint sound from the radio muting your conversation in this pornographic scenario. Peter may seem irritated, but you don't miss the way his cheeks flush, the way his cock twitches beneath you, how your thin mini skirt and thong being the only divider between you two.

"Wait until we get to my room. We're in public." He warns. Even if the sight of thee Quicksilver sporting a mature and disciplined facade right now is doing wonders to your cunt, you know it's time to behave when people like Peter become serious. In resign, you nodded, and his hold on your hips loosens. You don't get off though, you positioned yourself in a way that applies the most pressure on Peter's cock when you sit, then you rest your head on his shoulder.

He adjusts your mini skirt, having been so riled up your thong peeks through. And he shouldn't have done that. Oh no. Because every gentleman and possessive thing Peter does makes your brain haywire and your clit to throb.

You took his hand to your own, moving it up and down your thigh to make him think it's to soothe you, before swiftly moving it to press on your clit, your hand holding his fingers tight to make him feel your essence leaking through your panties.

"You have your jacket so I'll sit beside you and cover my legs with it. You don't think the driver will notice you finger fucking me, right? You'll do it soooo fast his vision wouldn't spot it." You sneakily whispered to Peter's ear, and you can feel the silver fox's breath hitched. A low pathetic groan escapes his lips, and you laughed at his reaction.

His hands move to your ass to give it a squeeze but you immediately took off his lap, setting beside him, right by the corner to put some gap in between you. You can see the fire in his eyes, light bead of sweats on his forehead, and the fly of his jeans struggling to contain his feelings for you. Feeling bitchy of him telling you to behave, you snaked your hand to his hard on, giving it a tight squeeze, before mouthing later.