mariclerc

[mariclerc]

What happens when rafe accidentally yells at reader?

The sun was starting to hide behind the trees, casting a warm golden light over the driveway Rafe had been working under his truck for the past two hours, covered in sweat, grease staining his forearms and the front of his shirt. He was on his back beneath the chassis, grumbling under his breath every time a wrench slipped or something clanked against metal

You stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting from one foot to the other like a restless child. You’d been watching him forever—first from the porch, then closer and now, completely ignored, you were growing bratty.

“Raaaaafe,” you sang out, dragging his name like a child teasing a tired parent
He didn’t answer

You walked over and squatted beside the truck
“Come ooon. You said we’d go out ” you pouted. “You’ve been under there forever”

Still no response. Just the sound of a tool clicking into place

Your fingers twitched, and in your irritation, you picked up a small pebble and tossed it” lightly” so it tapped against the side of the truck
Clink

Then his hand froze

Rafe slid out from under the truck slowly, his face streaked with grease, sweat dripping from his temple.
He sat up, tossed the wrench down, and looked at you with barely restrained fury

“What did I say earlier? Huh? I said I needed to get this done,” he snapped. His voice was louder now, sharp like the crack of thunder


“And you just keep pushing. Keep nagging. You never just listen.”

“Do you EVER stop?Do you EVER just—LISTEN for once He bellowed, voice cracking like a whip through the room

The sudden explosion in his voice made you shrink back

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. Your face twisted, and the tears came fast

faster than you expected, hot and painful
“I—I wasn’t trying to bother you,” you whimpered, backing up a step. “I just wanted to spend time with you…”

Your voice cracked at the end
And that broke him

And then your face crumpled.
Your shoulders trembled and tears spilled, fast and hot, your hands balling into little fists at your sides.
“I just wanted you to notice me…” you hiccuped

Rafe's rage dissolved in a blink
He stared at you, the guilt hitting him like a truck his features softened instantly, as if the anger had been sucked out of him by your first tear

“ baby—no, no no…”

He stepped in front of you, gently catching your wrist before you could turn away

“C’mere. Come here, little one,” he muttered, pushing himself up and dusting off his hands, voice ragged, full of regret


You didn’t even have to move as he came to you, wrapping those strong, calloused arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest

“‘M sorry, baby,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.”

You clung to him, silent sobs shaking through your small frame
He picked you up gently like you weighed nothing and carried you to the old porch swing, settling down with you curled up in his lap your body curled in his like you belonged there like you always had

Rafe rocked you slowly, the chains of the swing creaking rhythmically.
One arm held you close, the other ran up and down your back in soothing strokes.

“You know you’re my girl, right?” he murmured, voice low and full of guilt. “Even when I’m mad, even when I’m tired, I don’t ever stop loving you. You hear me?”

You gave a tiny nod against his chest
He kept rocking.
Back and forth, back and forth, the creak of the swing and the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling you toward sleep.

“I got you now,” he whispered again, more to himself than to you. “I’ll always got you.”

You fell asleep tucked into his chest, your cheeks tearstained, his shirt still smelling like motor oil and sweat but it didn’t matter. You were safe

And Rafe? He didn’t move an inch with you in his hands

[mariclerc]

Making out with butcher rafe for the first time?

Making out with butcher!rafe for the first time :p

Rafe didn’t look up at first.

He told you not to visit his shop without telling him first

, His thick forearms slick with sweat, cleaver in hand as he hacked through a slab of meat like it had personally offended him. Each strike echoed through the tiled walls

But you felt it.

The shift.

The pause in his rhythm.

His eyes dragged up slow from the chopping board, locking onto you like you were a fresh cut of temptation wrapped in softness and sin. His jaw ticked. His gaze lingered too long on your mouth, then your throat, then your mini skirt

Still, he didn’t speak. Not right away

Instead, he moved from behind the counter wiped the blade on his apron, leaned in close so close you could smell the salt and steel on him —and murmured low in your ear, voice rough as gravel

“Out back. Five minutes. Not a word.”

You didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. Your breath hitched, your pulse kicked, and Rafe smirked like he already knew what your answer was

He went right back to chopping like nothing happened.

But your knees were already weak

You slipped out quietly, and Not even 2 minutes , rafe was behind you


“y’know i dont like you hear alot” he whispered behind you ,

“I just missed you s..since our l..last date” you nervously replied

“Missed me..? ..Think you’re funny, huh?” Rafe growled, breath hot against your ear

His apron was still on, stained from the day’s work, his hands calloused and warm as they grabbed your waist

And this time, Rafe snapped

He cornered you before you could even blink, and spun you around, big body closing in, heat rolling off his skin

“I warned you,” he muttered, voice low, voice shaking.“Don’t mess with me like that, girl.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you never got the chance

His lips crashed down onto yours wild, desperate, too much all at once. The kiss wasn’t soft or sweet. It was hungry. Rafe didn’t kiss like a man. He kissed like a storm. Like something that had been building for years and finally broke loos

It was messy. Brutal. Teeth clashing. His lips devoured yours like he’d been starved for years, one hand already tangled in your hair, the other gripping your throat so tight it burned,

You gasped into his mouth when he hoisted you up without pause, He gripped your thighs and slammed your back into the nearest wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct, the cold tile forgotten under the press of his weight

His weight pressing you against the wall, every inch of him thick and unrelenting , his chest, his stomach, his belt digging in you as he ground closer

His hands roamed without thinking everywhere fingers digging into your sides, your jaw, your neck. His thumbs brushing your throat

He didn’t realize how hard he was holding you.

Didn’t realize the bruising grip on your neck until your breath hitched, sharp and panicked, your eyes filled with tears

He froze

“Shit,” he muttered, yanking his hand back just enough to let you breathe,His mouth still against yours, breath panting, eyes wide

“…Too much?” His voice softened for the first time that night

You blinked at him, lips kiss-bruised, chest rising with shallow breaths

“Don’t stop,” your voice cracked , arms were still around him

And your lips were still chasing his.

Because rough or not, you didn’t want him to stop.

And just like that, Rafe leaned back in —slower this time, but still burning, still gripping you hard

The first kiss tasted like longing, and it was already too late to turn back

[mariclerc]

Rafe tells reader to block all of her friends !

AN: this is really self projecting cause my friends lowkey hate me😝

You were pouting, shoulders hunched like a scolded kid, phone face-down on the coffee table. You didn’t even need to tell Rafe what happened—he could feel it the second he walked in. Your so-called friends had said something again. Left you out. Made you feel small.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and deep, before sitting beside you and pulling you gently—yet unarguably—into his lap.

“C’mere,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you like a cage. “You crying over them again?”

You nodded, lip trembling. “I dunno, maybe I just did something wrong...”

“No,” he cut you off, voice firm but soft. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. You always do that, sweetheart, ‘cause you’re too soft for your own good.” He tilted your chin up with two fingers, making sure you looked at him. “That’s why you got me.”

You blinked at him, teary and confused, chewing your lip. “But they said I act different when I’m with you…”

He chuckled low, eyes glinting. “Good. You should act different. I’m not them. I actually give a damn about you.”

His tone sharpened just a little, just enough. “You let them talk to you like that? Again? After everything I told you?”

“I didn’t mean to, I just… I got nervous,” you mumbled, eyes flicking away. You were so sweet, so unsure. He could see it—how badly you wanted someone to just guide you.

“That’s the problem. You keep thinking you know better,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face slowly. “But you don’t. You never really have, have you, baby?”

You shook your head slowly, leaning into his hand.

“That’s why I’m here,” he whispered, thumb tracing your cheek. “To take care of you. To think for you. 'Cause you got a good heart, but you let the wrong people near it.”

You didn’t say anything—just breathed softly against his chest, heart slowing under the weight of his voice.

“You don’t need friends like that,” he finished, kissing your temple. “You need me. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

You melted into his chest, your cheek pressed to the thick muscle beneath his shirt, fingers fidgeting with the hem like a scolded child trying to redeem herself.

“I’m sorry…” you murmured. The words were small, barely formed.

“For what?” he asked, brow cocked. He wanted to hear it.

“…For not listening to you.”

Rafe smiled then—just a little. That was better. “You should be,” he said, brushing his knuckles under your chin. “I tell you these things because I know what’s best for you. Not them. Me. Always me.”

You nodded, slowly, dumbly, trusting him more than you trusted yourself.

He tilted your face again, speaking slowly like he was walking you through something delicate. “You don’t need to waste energy trying to make people like you. That’s not your job. Your job is to stay close to me. Let me take care of everything. That’s all you need to do.”

“But… what if they get mad if I stop talking to them?” you asked, voice small and anxious.

“They will get mad,” he said simply. “Because they’re selfish. They liked it better when you were easy to push around. But they don’t get a say anymore.” He kissed your forehead, his thumb sliding gently across your bottom lip to still your fidgeting. “You belong to me now. That’s not up for debate.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt safe. And dumb. But safe.

His hand came to rest on your throat—not squeezing, just there. Warm. Protective. Possessive.

“You don’t need to think so hard, baby. That pretty little head of yours wasn’t made for worrying,” he murmured. “That’s what I’m here for. So when I say something’s not good for you, you listen the first time, yeah?”

You nodded quickl

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Now block their numbers. All of them.”

“But—”

He raised a brow.

“…Okay.”

“See?” he smirked. “That’s my girl. Nice and obedient.”

And as you curled up tighter in his lap, your phone locked in his palm as he helped you block every last contact, you didn’t even miss them.

Because Rafe was right.

He always was.

[mariclerc]

Thinking about butcher!Rafe and his obsession with reader :(

You always knew Rafe wasn’t the kind of man you should talk to too long since you were a child

Not because he was mean.

But because something about him had always been a little too much. Too intense. Too rough

Too Rafe.

Your mom used to buy from his family's butcher shop every weekend . And She would walk home with bags of meat every time swearing they had the freshest cuts in town. She would drag you along her, barely tall enough to see over the counter but you remembered the sound of meat chopping like it was stitched into your bones.

Thud. Thud. Crack.

And there he was rafe , a silly teen boy acting rough

Ever since then, you’d catch glimpses of him behind the counter, apron soaked through with red, arms flexing with every chop. Hand running over his freshly shaved head every other day, Even then, he looked like trouble .

Now?

Now he is 6’4, thick arms, and knuckles that looked like they’d cracked more than bone.

Still in your neighborhood. Still the same teen boy with trouble in his eyes you knew

Every time he saw you walk past the shop your scent drawing attention to you , he'd lean against the frame of the shop’s open doorway, smirking like a menace he is.

“You still playin’ smart girl at that fancy college, huh?” He would tell you this anytime you would come near him

And You would always pretend not to smile. “Maybe I am?”

Rafe smiled again not a innocent one but a mocking one, “Mm. Thought you might’ve outgrown that phase.” Then, with a lazy glance over your body
“Still wearing that skirt . Cute.”

Today was no different., You were walking home when you passed the shop. He was just finishing up cleaver in one hand, dragging a whole slab of ribs across the butcher block. His apron was soaked. His forearms were coated in red. He didn’t flinch when he wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing a streak of blood near his temple.

You stopped without meaning to.

He noticed.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and familiar. “What brought My smart girl now “

“I…i just came to say hi” you stammered didn’t think he would notice you this far

He dropped the cleaver with a loud thunk, leaning over the block, eyes raking over you. “Still wasting time at that university?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Still chopping meat?” Already getting tired from him talking about your personal life

He grinned. “You think you’re clever. But baby, you’re just tired. I can see it all over your face.but you’ve always been soft.”

He came around the counter, wiping his hands with a blood-slick rag, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You took a tiny step back, but he followed slow, towering, full of the confidence of a man who never give a fuck

“I’m not soft,” you said. Your tone challenging him

“Oh, princess,” he laughed, stepping closer, voice dropping. “You’re pretty . You're delicate. You cry when the power goes out. You think that overpriced cold coffee a breakfast . And now you’re gonna tell me your silly little brain can keep up with essays and deadlines and pressure?”

“I’m passing,” you defended yourself

“For now,” he smirked, stepping behind you before you realized he moved. He leaned in close, breath warm near your ear. “But let’s be honest. You don’t want that life, right i can see it in your eyes baby.”

You hated that he was right

“You want someone to tell you when to sleep. What to wear. What to eat,” he murmured. “Someone who keeps your fridge full and your schedule empty. You want me, and you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

You spun to face him. “No..no you-“

He caught your chin gently, tilting your face up with blood slick fingers. Not rough. Not violent. Treating you like an expensive porcelain doll Overpoweringly certain.

“Baby,” he said, smiling, “you think I haven’t noticed you all these years?” “you’ve been on my mind since the first time you stared at me over that counter with wide little eyes. I remember. I saw it before you did.”

He let go. Stepped back. Let the silence hang Then, casually stated 
“Drop that college shit. I’ll take care of you.”

Your voice barely worked. “You think I’m gonna throw away my life like that?”

“No,” he said. “I think you’re tired of pretending you’re not.

And just like that, he turned and walked back into the shop leaving you with bloody fingers stained on your cheeks rethinking your entire life decisions

[mariclerc]

how will be꧁athletic!reader ꧂

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who wakes up before sunrise to run when the world is still quiet, headphones in, sneakers tied tight, breath steady

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who’s competitive, but never cruel. Who celebrates others’ wins like her own, but trains harder the next day. Who believes in discipline over talent and effort over excuses.

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who cries at the gym, wipes her face with her sleeve and finishes her reps anyway

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who teaches you how to pace yourself — in life, in love, in healing. Who encourages you to keep going, one step at a time "Just one more round," she says, but she means: don’t give up yet.

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who was the best in every domain in high school — sports, grades, leadership, all of it. Not because she was trying to prove something, but because she didn’t know how not to give her all.

🏃‍♀️ athletic!reader who wears old team hoodies, hair always in a ponytail or messy bun, and a water bottle always within reach. Her skin smells like sun and salt — like early morning jogs by the water, sun-warmed pavement.

꧁ storie with athletic!reader ꧂

How athletic!reader and ex-athlete!rafe meet

[mariclerc]

how athletic!reader and ex-athlete!rafe meet

they meet at the gym. not his scene anymore, not really — not since the injury, not since everything changed. But he's there anyway, lingering near the squat rack like a ghost of who he used to be.

you walk in, earbuds in, all steady breath and focused eyes. you're the kind of girl who doesn’t slow down for anyone. except today. today, you notice him.

he’s watching — not creepily, not with arrogance, but with this... quiet, aching kind of gaze. like he knows every move you're about to make because he used to do it too. you catch his eye between sets. he looks away first.

later, you see him wrap his knee in a brace. There's a softness in his frustration, something you understand — that language of limits, of pushing through anyway.

you offer him your towel. a nod. a half-smile. he laughs under his breath. “You’re the real athlete now.” you just shrug. “Once an athlete, always an athlete.”

you don’t flirt. not yet. you compete — quietly, respectfully. who can hold their plank longer. who finishes first on the treadmill. he starts showing up more often.

you never ask what happened. and he never tells. but in the silence between reps, the understanding grows.

[mariclerc]

how will be꧁ fratboy!rafe ꧂

☄ fratboy!rafe who shows up to every party in a backwards cap and a smug grin, smelling like beer, bonfire smoke, and expensive cologne

☄ fratboy!rafe who gets in fights for sport, bruised knuckles, and bloodied smiles. He doesn’t care about the reason, just the rush.

☄ fratboy!rafe who skips class but somehow still passes, flashing a grin that makes professors sigh and girls fall harder than they should. He’s too charming, too reckless, too much — and he knows it.

☄ fratboy!rafe who calls everyone “man” or “dude” except when he wants something.

☄ fratboy!rafe who’s loud, cocky, impossible — the guy who talks shit during games and flips off the ref with a grin. who drives too fast, texts like he’s in a rush, and never answers calls before 2PM.

☄ fratboy!rafe who swears he doesn’t care about anything, but clenches his fists when his name comes up in a bad light.

[mariclerc]

How will be ꧁ sunshine!reader ꧂

☀ sunshine!reader who smiles like she’s carrying a little sun in her pocket — warm, bright, and impossible to ignore. she spreads light in every room she enters, laughing easily and making strangers feel like old friends.

☀ sunshine!reader who hums cheerful tunes while she walks, her energy infectious and endless, like she’s powered by pure joy and caffeine. she offers compliments freely, like tiny gifts wrapped in sunshine.

☀ sunshine!reader who listens with her whole heart, tilting her head and nodding like every word matters — because to her, it does. she’s the first to notice when you’re sad, and the last to leave your side until you smile again.

☀ sunshine!reader who dresses in light, airy fabrics that dance with every breeze, as if she’s trying to catch the wind itself. her hair glows golden in the sun, and the faint scent of citrus and fresh flowers seems to follow her like a soft perfume. she has a habit of humming softly to herself, a melody that lingers in the air long after she’s gone

☀ sunshine!reader who believes in second chances and new beginnings, never holding grudges for long because she knows that everyone deserves forgiveness and a fresh start

☀ sunshine!reader who cries when she’s overwhelmed — not because she’s weak, but because she feels everything so deeply.

[mariclerc]

How will be childish!reader x killer!rafe cameron

♡ childish!reader who doesn't really understand the danger he's capable of — or maybe she does, but chooses to ignore it, like a child covering her ears and humming when things get too scary. she sees Rafe with those wide, trusting eyes, still thinking he’s just “a little mean sometimes.”

🔪 killer!rafe who talks to her like she’s made of porcelain, soft voice, low and slow — not because he’s gentle by nature, but because she’s the only thing that calms him. “You don’t need to know what I do, bunny. Just keep smiling like that. Let me worry about the ugly stuff.”

♡ childish!reader who throws small tantrums when he won’t let her go out alone. she pouts, stomps her feet, threatens to “run away forever” — but ends up curled in his lap, hugging his neck and mumbling, “you’re still mean,” while he strokes her hair.

🔪 killer!rafe who gets irrationally angry when someone makes fun of the way she talks, the way she gets excited about childish things, or calls her dumb — because only he gets to tease her, and no one else gets to see her eyes well up. “What did you say about her? Huh?” he growls, already pulling up his sleeves, and she has to tug on his arm with a “Rafie, please don’t be scary...”

♡ childish!reader who decorates his knives with tiny stickers, “so they’re less spooky,” she says. he lets her. he lets her because every time he sees the little pink star on the handle, he remembers why he’s still pretending to be human.

🔪 killer!rafe who lies to her constantly — “that guy moved away,” “there was no screaming,” “my hands are red ‘cause I spilled paint.” she believes him. or maybe she just smiles and plays along, pretending not to see the blood on his boots, because her little world is safe as long as he’s there.

♡ childish!reader who makes him friendship bracelets with glitter beads and crooked letters, proudly tying them on his wrist like she just gave him a sacred gift.

🔪 killer!rafe who becomes obsessed with protecting her innocence, like if he shields her long enough, the rest of the world won’t taint her softness. He’ll kill for her. he has killed for her. And the worst part? She probably knows. And she loves him anyway.

[mariclerc]

how will be꧁ ex-athlete!rafe ꧂

🖤 ex-athlete!rafe who got injured during his senior year — a clean snap that echoed louder than the crowd. He never talks about it, but he flinches when people bring up what he “could’ve been.”

🖤 ex-athlete!rafe who keeps his old trophies in a box under his bed. who scrolls through highlight reels at 2AM, replaying moments like they’ll bring it all back. They never do.

🖤 ex-athlete!rafe who works out like he’s still training, even if there's no game. Who pushes himself too hard, like maybe pain will make him feel something again, like perhaps he still deserves the body he once had.

🖤 ex-athlete!Rafe who keeps his old jersey at the back of his closet, untouched but never forgotten. not out of pride, but because some versions of himself feel safer folded away

🖤 ex-athlete!Rafe who peaked too early and knows it — who walks around like he’s still the golden boy, even if no one’s chanting his name anymore. Who laughs loud but only when he drinks.

🖤 ex-athlete!Rafe who’s reckless in ways that don’t look like self-destruction at first — sleeping in his car sometimes, skipping meals, ghosting people who get too soft.

[mariclerc]

quit brainrot. unfollow trolls. read essays. go down rabbit holes. have a calendar. maintain a todo list. read old books. watch old movies. turn on dnd. walk with intent. eat without youtube. chew more. train without music. plan for 15 mins. execute. organise your desk. take something seriously. read ancient scripts. act fast. find bread. eat clean. journal. save a life. learn to code. read poetry. create art. stay composed. refine your speech. optimise for efficiency. act sincere. help people. be kind. stop doing things that waste your time. follow your intuition. craft reputation. learn persuasion. systemise your day (or don't). write. write. write. write more. iterate violently. leave your phone at home. walk to the grocery store. talk to strangers. feed the dogs. visit bookstores. look for 1800s novels. experience art. then love. sit with a monk and offer them lunch. don't talk shit about people. embody virtue. sit alone. do something with your life. what do you want to create? turn off your mind. play. play a sport. combat sports. notice fonts in trees. fall in love. notice patterns on a table. visualise it. talk to people with respect. don't hate. be loving. be real. become yourself. cherrypick your qualities. discard the useless. rejections aren't permanent. invite what aligns. accept what does not. read great people. be different. choose different. do great work. let it consume you. lose your mind. value your time. experience life.

[mariclerc]

Curate everything.

Curate your hygiene routine, curate your clothing items, curate your home, curate your habits, curate your nutrition, curate your environment, curate your circles, curate you socials, curate the content you consume, curate your social skills, curate your financial situation, curate your emotions, curate the version of you that shows up in public, curate your hobbies, curate your knowledge.

[mariclerc]

journal prompts.ೃ࿔*:･🍨🎀

journaling is one of my all time FAVORITE things to do. its so much fun especially since i LOVE to yap and just write to myself. my journal prompts are super unserious and super girly and just so perfectly me, so in this post im just gonna share some of my journal entry titles as prompts for inspo for the other girlies who love to journal…💬🎀

❤︎ ideas - if u dont write ur ideas down i guarantee you won't remember them so its important to jot things down. i write down all my ideas for my blog, business endeavors, even just things i wanna do.

❤︎ shopping lists - especially ones that i use more than once like my essentials shopping list or my seasonal shopping list.

❤︎ lipstick swatch pages - you can swatch some lip liner and do cute little kiss marks on the pages so u can remember what the shade of gloss looks like when ur on the go.

❤︎ tattoos i wanna get and why - i wrote that page like a year or two ago and as im looking back at it, it still rings true.

❤︎ smash or pass - i have a page of my celebrity crushes smash or pass, and then the people i actually know irl smash or passes. or i'll do kiss marry kill or something fun like that.

❤︎ general diary entries - like talking about my day, everything im grateful for etc etc.

❤︎ sweetest inbox letters - because you guys always write sweet stuff to me and i always copy it into my journal so i can look back on it.

❤︎ all about me page - what can i say, i like talking about myself.

❤︎ letters to future versions of myself - and then i dont open them until later dates. sometimes i'll do a video diary entry or something fun like that.

❤︎ notes to my younger self - this one’s kinda healing. write to the little you with love, and tell her how FABULOUS and gorgeous she turned out.

❤︎ dream outfits i wanna recreate - i screenshot pinterest looks or outfits i see in music videos + write down how i’d style them with stuff i already have or wanna thrift.

❤︎ boy toys - i LOVE how juicy this page is. im a super detailed writer and i come with RECEIPTS. i include names, dates, details, the whole nine yards.

❤︎ my designer wishlist - designer pieces that i want in my closet. im super intentional with my wardrobe so i want very specific things.

❤︎ my spicier techniques - idk how in depth i can go about this on my blog 💀 but i write all my techniques in here. use ur imagination.

❤︎ my emergency contacts - not actual phone numbers but more so things that instantly lift me up when im having like a mood swing. like the exact shade of lipgloss i wear when im sad or my comfort movie and comfort soup order from my favorite chinese food place.

❤︎ my perfume wardrobe - i have a matching perfume wardrobe in my beauty binder but i like to have it in my journal too because its just such a fun page.

❤︎ glow up plans - cuz i love looking my best and thinking about how i can get even hotter.

[mariclerc]

Made For Me

blue collar!Rafe x sahm!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: lactation kink, big boobie appreciation, soft dominance, postpartum body comfort, oral (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected piv

mdni 18+

summary: Rafe comes home from work to find you tired and leaking through your nursing bra—but all he sees is how beautiful you are. With gentle hands and loving words, he shows you just how much he adores every part of you, especially the ones you feel most insecure about.

⸻

You’re folding laundry in nothing but your robe, half-open because it doesn’t quite fit your chest anymore. One side of your nursing bra is unclipped, and you keep forgetting to fix it—too tired, too distracted. You barely even notice the way milk slowly dampens the cup of your bra.

But Rafe notices.

He notices everything.

You hear his boots on the hardwood before you see him, the door creaking open as he walks in from work, cheeks flushed from the heat, Carhartt shirt sticking to his chest.

“Hey, baby,” he calls, eyes landing on you—and then his voice dips, goes all honeyed and low. “Damn.”

You glance up, flustered. “What?”

He drops his tool bag in the mudroom and walks in slow, his eyes locked on your chest like he hasn’t seen you in days, not just eight hours. “You know what that robe does to me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then down your neck. “S’like you’re beggin’ me to come home and ruin you.”

You roll your eyes, but your body reacts anyway—hot under his gaze. “I didn’t even notice it was falling open.”

He runs a thumb gently under the edge of your bra, where the fabric’s gone damp. “Yeah, you did.” His voice drops to a whisper. “You’re leakin’, baby.”

Your cheeks flush. “I know. I meant to go pump after I finished—”

Rafe pulls the robe open the rest of the way. “Nah. Don’t pump.”

You blink, heart skipping. “Rafe—”

“Lemme have it.”

The way he says it—like it’s a craving, a need, not a request—makes your knees weak. He drops to his knees in front of you, big hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the robe off your shoulders so you’re bare from the waist up, swollen and sensitive and too full.

He looks up at you like you’re the sun. “These tits…” He groans softly. “Fuck, baby. Look at you.”

Your arms twitch like you should cover yourself, but he gently pushes them down.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the underside of one heavy breast. “They’re so fuckin’ perfect. So big. Full. Made for me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “They make me look huge.”

“They make you look like a woman who carried my baby and feeds him with these pretty tits.” His voice is rough now. “You don’t look huge. You look hot.”

You whimper when he kisses the side of your breast, mouth warm and open. He flicks his tongue over your nipple, licking up a little spill of milk that escapes, and groans low in his throat like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“God, baby,” he pants. “You know what this does to me.”

Your knees buckle, and Rafe guides you to the couch. He lays you back, mouth never leaving your chest. He palms your breasts, heavy and tender in his hands, then wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

Hard.

You gasp. “Rafe—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, mouth still on you, hand sliding between your legs to tug your panties down. “You just sit there and let me taste what’s mine.”

You’re so wet you can feel the air on your thighs when he spreads them. He slides two fingers through your folds, then sinks one in slow, just to tease.

“Already so fuckin’ wet down here,” he murmurs, kissing a wet trail across your chest. “So good for me.”

You arch under him when his fingers start moving—slow, firm, curling just right. But it’s the way he keeps suckling your breast, switching sides every few minutes, moaning every time he gets another rush of milk, that makes your eyes roll back.

“Rafe,” you pant. “That feels—oh my god—”

“I could stay right here all night,” he mutters, dazed with it. “My perfect girl, all swollen and drippin’ for me. Tastes so sweet, baby. Bet you’re just as sweet down here too.”

He trails kisses down your stomach, then licks a stripe between your legs before you can even form words. You jolt, fingers sinking into his hair.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says, like it’s sacred. “You do so much, baby. Always takin’ care of everyone. Lemme take care of you now.”

He eats you like he means it—slow, reverent, with just enough filth to make you cry out. He never stops touching your breasts, even as he licks and sucks your clit, his hands full of you, massaging and squeezing and occasionally dropping back to your nipples for another taste.

Your thighs are shaking. “I’m gonna—Rafe, I’m—”

“Yeah, you are,” he growls. “Come on, babygirl. Give it to me.”

You come with a choked moan, trembling all over, his name tumbling from your lips as he licks you through it. He pulls away only to crawl up your body, kissing every inch as he goes. You can feel him hard against your thigh, straining in his jeans.

“Take it out,” you whisper, still dazed. “Wanna see you.”

He does—slowly, like a reward. His cock springs free, flushed and dripping. He watches your eyes go wide and grins, settling between your legs, stroking himself while cupping one breast again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My pretty girl. My perfect mama.”

You reach up to touch him, but he pins your wrist to the couch cushion. “No, baby. Not this time. You just lay there and take it.”

You whimper, legs falling open for him. “Please, Rafe—”

He lines himself up and pushes in—slow, deep, like he’s savoring every second. You both moan at the stretch, the way your body gives so easily for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re always so tight for me. So wet.”

He sets a steady pace, hips rolling while he bends down to kiss your breasts again, licking away more milk as it leaks from you, moaning like he’s drunk on it.

“You were made for this,” he pants. “Made to be mine. Made to carry our baby.”

Your whole body is burning—overstimulated, full, loved so deeply you could cry.

“Ray—oh my god—”

“Shhh, I got you.” He holds your leg up, angling deeper. “Gonna come with me, sweetheart? Gonna give it to me again?”

You nod, nails digging into his back. “Yes—yes—”

He groans your name, slamming into you harder, then stills as you both come—him spilling inside you, face buried in your neck, you shaking from the intensity.

Afterward, he kisses your chest one more time, softly now. “Still worried they make you look big?”

You laugh breathlessly. “Not when you talk to them like that.”

He grins, hands still full of you. “Can’t help it. These titties are heaven.”

a/n: this one goes out to the girlies with big boobies who just wanna feel hot, soft, and so loved—because Rafe sees those big tits and thinks: jackpot. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope it makes you feel as adored and worshipped as you deserve 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

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[mariclerc]

i have one!! doctor!rafe coming back from his shift and when he walks into your shared bedroom the first thing he hears is your whimpers 'cause you have a nightmare and he immediately sits down next to you still in his scrubs to comfort you:( <3

doctor!rafe x gf!reader

“I’m Here Now”

⸻❃⸻❃⸻❃⸻❃⸻❃⸻❃⸻

The apartment is quiet when Rafe slips inside, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders, the back of his neck sore from hours hunched over charts and cold exam room floors. The lights are off except for the hallway lamp she always leaves on—soft and golden and waiting for him like she always does.

Only this time, she’s not curled up on the couch with a blanket and one of his sweatshirts. There’s no sleepy smile, no half-awake mumble of “You’re home,” no warm arms reaching for him. Just silence. The kind that makes his stomach twist.

He sets his keys down gently, careful not to make noise, but his footsteps quicken as he moves down the hall. His heart tugs in a way he doesn’t quite expect.

The door to the bedroom is cracked. Inside, the soft whir of the fan spins lazily against the ceiling. She’s asleep. Or trying to be.

The sheets are half-off the bed. Her body twists restlessly beneath them, legs tangled, jaw clenched. He sees it instantly—the way her breath stutters, the low, distressed sounds escaping her throat.

His heart sinks. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, stepping in fast.

“Baby,” he says softly, crouching beside her, brushing back her hair where it sticks to her forehead. “Hey. Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

She whimpers again, back arching slightly, hands gripping the blanket like she’s bracing for something. Like she’s scared.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’re safe. It’s me.”

She jerks awake with a choked gasp, eyes wide and unfocused, blinking hard as if trying to reorient herself to the room. Her chest rises and falls too fast. Her whole body’s trembling.

“Rafe?” she breathes, like she’s afraid he’s not real.

“I’m here,” he says immediately, voice steady as he climbs into bed beside her, pulling her into his arms without hesitation. “I’m right here, baby. I’ve got you.”

Her hands fist into the fabric of his scrubs, nails pressing into his chest like she’s afraid he’ll vanish if she lets go.

“You weren’t here,” she mumbles into his skin. “I couldn’t find you. You didn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, resting his chin against the top of her head. He holds her tighter. “I wanted to. I got stuck at the hospital. I didn’t even check my phone until I was walking out—I didn’t know.”

She doesn’t answer at first, just keeps breathing hard against his neck, soaking in the solidness of him, the warmth, the scent of antiseptic and laundry detergent clinging to his collar.

“It felt so real,” she whispers. “I was looking for you and no one would help me. I kept calling your name, and I couldn’t get to you.”

“I’m here now,” he says again, slower this time. Like a vow. “It wasn’t real. I’m home, and you’re safe.”

Her voice is small. “I hate when you’re gone.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, then one to her cheek, then another just under her eye where he can still feel the heat of tears. “I know. I hate it too.”

She finally starts to settle. Her breath evens out, her body softens in his arms, and the tension that had wrapped around her frame begins to loosen under his touch. He pulls the covers back up around her and tucks them both beneath it, still holding her close.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep without you,” she murmurs, already sounding drowsy again.

He brushes her hair back gently, voice soft against her skin. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Go back to sleep, baby.”

Her hand slides under his shirt, palm resting against his heart like she needs to feel it beating to believe he’s real. “Promise you won’t leave?”

“Not tonight,” he whispers. “Not for a long, long time.”

And even though he’s bone-tired, even though the weight of the day hasn’t left his body yet, he stays awake just a little longer—watching her, holding her, breathing slow and steady until the last traces of the nightmare fade from her face.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby

[mariclerc]

[mariclerc]

soft girl dad rafe 😭😭😭 he tries to be “tough” on her but fails when if she keeps dropping her pacifier and makes him grab it

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“I’m not picking it up again.”

the baby begins to whine. you frown.

“pick it up for her, rafe, it won’t kill you.”

“but she’s doing it on purpose.”

you shrug and look down at your little girl sitting atop your lap. rafe was correct in assuming she was doing it on purpose— every time he would reach to take the pacifier, she would begin to giggle like she’d never seen anything better.

“just do it.”

he picks up the pacifier and the baby takes it happily, putting it back in her mouth and beginning to suck for a solid five seconds before she takes it out with a ‘pop!’ and throws it back on the rug.

rafe sighs as it hits the floor. he turns his gaze to you, a look of desperation. you smile.

“I’m not picking it up anymore.”

you frown teasingly. the baby begins to whine again and point to the pacifier on the floor, demanding that her father pick it up again.

if not for the baby’s heartbreaking pout he would not have done as she asked. but he did, handing it back to her for the fourth time today. this time, rafe places a kiss to her forehead.

happily, she begins to babble, dropping her pacifier onto her lap so she can grab her father’s face in a silent way to ask he kiss her again.

he does without complaint. but when rafe pulls back again, she throws the pacifier on the floor.

you raise your eyebrows at him. he had said ‘last time’ but everything in you doubts he actually meant it.

rafe shakes his head. “if I keep picking it up, she’ll think I’m gonna do it every time she drops it.”

“but she’s your little girl, don’t you love her?”

you hold up the infant in a displaying manner to get a point across.

unsurprisingly, with a glance to his baby girl, he reaches down and retrieves the pacifier once again.