mon-nympht

[mon-nympht]

Tutor: Feel-good

Words: 7k+ Summary: Rafe doesn't like how much Sarah wants to hang out with you, while you don't see what the problem is. And if there is anything that defines Rafe Cameron, it is petty. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {no condom, piv, biting, dirty talk, a bit of dacryphilia}, mention of alcohol consumption, petty silent treatment (because Rafe will always be petty in my fics).

Tutor Masterlist

A/N.: This chapter wasn't exactly planned. So enjoy it as the day off drama for my two babies <3

It is the day before your graduation ceremony, so the days have gone by pretty quickly since you left your parents’ home. You’ve received your results from your last exams, you got the answer back from UNC-Chapel Hill, and your summer is finally starting. Nothing's holding you back now. There are no more secrets. No more drama. Nothing. It’s just you, Rafe, and, of course, Patty.

“I’m starting to think they love you more than me,” Patty says as you two look through the snack aisle.

They, meaning her parents, got home last night with no prior warning and discovered you living in their spare room. You expected to be given at most a week to pack your things and go. Nope, you got invited for dinner and got wine drunk with her mom as you celebrated your high school grand finish with straight A’s.

“You’re exaggerating.” You roll your eyes.

“I wish I were,” She sighs dramatically, “But they’ve literally just texted me after we left the house to make sure that you wear sunscreen.” And you laugh uncontrollably at that.

Maybe you had a magic touch with families. After all, Rafe’s wasn’t much different. You haven’t been to his house to tutor Wheezie ever since she got done with her exams, but he has been telling you how Rose wants you to come over for dinner nearly every night. And Sarah has been nagging him non-stop to finally have your number, since you’re a lost cause when it comes to answering DM's on social media. Also, Wheezie has always loved you, so dating her brother only really made things that much better for her. And Rose and Ward welcomed you, maybe a little too fast, after the party.

With your hands full of your favorite snacks, you decide to abandon not-so-only-child-anymore Patty to go leave them at the register and vacant your hands once more. There, some drinks already wait to be paid for, but you assume Rafe and Kelce are still going to grab some more. You offer the girl working at the register a small smile, which she answers back with one of her own, and the sound of the ringing bell of the door invades the small store.

You look over to find Sarah and her friends soon follow. You’ve never formally met them, but you’re sure many people could recognize them from afar. It’s the usual group of JJ, John B, and Kiara, though Pope is nowhere to be seen. Probably waiting in the van, just like Topper is waiting at the Jeep.

Sarah’s squeal of excitement fills the store when she sees you, and before you can even smile at her, her arms are securely around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, I finally get to see you,” She exclaims, “Rafe has been an asshole and refuses to give me your number.”

She pulls away from the hug to look at you, and her excitement is contagious, making you smile at her back.

“I’m not sure why he’s not giving you my number,” You try to justify, “I’ve told him to do it-”

“He's a gatekeeping bitch, that’s why.” She says, probably knowing that he’s somewhere in the store and might hear him. “I only want to go shopping or hang out with you. He acts like I’m trying to steal you away every time.”

You laugh at her frustration, and as you pull your phone out to give it to her - in a silent gesture for her to give you her number and text herself - you notice that her friend group has not moved on with their shopping without her. They’re all looking at you two.

You can tell from some faces that, at least, John B. and JJ don’t recognize you, but Kiara surely does. You went to middle school together, after all. The guys look at you as if they’re not sure about you, whether to like you or not. Sarah surely likes you, but, from the conversation they’ve heard till now, they’re not all that sure about you anymore. Kiara, on the other hand, seems bored with having to wait for Sarah, but her face grew into annoyance pretty quickly.

Sarah grabs your phone from your hands to type in her number, and, as you begin watching her do it, a hand appears from behind you and snatches the phone. You two look up to find none other than the true enemy of this friendship, your boyfriend.

“You are unbelievable,” Sarah tells him, her tone full of frustration and pure hate.

“Leave my girl alone, Sarah.” He tells her, serious as all hell. “If you have something to say to her, say it to me first and I’ll pass on the message.”

You scoff at his behaviour and smack him on the stomach. He looks down at you in response.

“Give her my phone, Rafe.” You tell him, and he’s unmoving. “We just want to hang out, what’s so bad about that?”

“I don’t trust her,” He motions at his sister, “She’ll convert you into her little tribe there-”

And that’s enough to startle the thin peace among the Pogues. Kiara, who had stayed back and been silent, now scoffs at the loudest volume she could muster, and JJ takes his cap off his head in utter disbelief. You notice that Rafe’s mouth twists up in amusement, and you only shake your head at him.

“My phone.” You outstretch your hand at him, “Please.”

“Please, nothing.” Sarah interrupts, “Give me her phone, dofus. You have no right. It’s her phone, she doesn’t have to ask you for anything…” She keeps going.

You sigh as they start to fully argue in the most sibling way possible, and you can’t help but share a look with the girl at the register. Even she is dumbfounded.

Sarah and Rafe continue to call each other the most outrageous names while also fighting for their right to either spend time with you or 'look out for your safety,' as ridiculous as that sounds. You think about walking away, but you’re literally the only person on Sarah’s side, and you don’t want her to lose this battle.

Halfway through Rafe’s sentence, you put your hand in his pocket and grab his own phone. Sarah and Rafe are too distracted in their argument to notice you at first, but then Sarah’s phone dings loudly.

They pause mid-sentence, and you lock Rafe’s phone.

Sarah reaches and looks down at her phone, reading the just-received text from her brother, with your number on it. Rafe doesn’t have to read it to understand what just happened, so his eyes go to you, disappointed, as you return his phone to his pocket. You look up at him after. A little startled to already find his eyes on you, you give him a small smile, and it’s enough for Rafe to calm down his staring and lose his previous deadly look.

His sister then starts laughing in his face, and you can’t help but smile a little. Rafe rolls his eyes and decides to take his brooding self elsewhere. You watch him disappear into the cold section of the small store, back to grab more drinks with Kelce.

John B. and JJ decide they’ve seen enough and go look through the store to find what they need, but Kiara stays back with Sarah, which intrigues you. Is she also 'looking out' for Sarah? Just like Rafe had with you?

“... Wheezie needs to come with us too, she has been telling me how much she misses you.” Sarah continues telling you about your plans together. “We could have a sleepover!”

You smile at her, “Sure!”

“Do you want to come with us, Kie?” Sarah asks, turning her body to face her friend. Your eyes go to her too, and she stares back, unstartled from being, all of a sudden, included in your conversation.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” she says directly to you, which confuses you. It’s as if you’re the reason for her answer, even if you two haven’t spoken in years.

Sarah doesn’t accept that, “Oh, come on. It’d be so fun!” Her volume rises in excitement, “I haven’t had a girls' night in so long. You have to come!”

Patty appears beside you with a lot of chips and other savory snacks and lays them on the counter beside you. She doesn’t say anything yet, but she studies you and Sarah for a bit, almost as if waiting for something. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Do you want to come too, Patty?” You invite her, only raising Sarah’s excitement by a million, because: more girls!

“Kiara, now you have to come with us,” Sarah tells her friend, but Kie is unmoving. “Why not?”

“Not exactly my crowd,” She answers with a shrug. Her eyes stay on you and on Patty as if to appoint the crowd in question with her eyes.

“Okay…” You say in a low voice, only for Patty’s ears to hear. You turn to her and then to Sarah, not enjoying the vibe that has been laid out between all the girls after that. “I’ll go help Rafe with the drinks.”

Kiara’s slight reaction to your words gives you a good enough justification for her tone towards you. Her problem with you begins and ends with your association with Rafe. Good to know. She’s not the only one.

You send both your friends a short smile and disappear into the closest aisle to get out of Kiara’s sight. You walk by JJ and John B, who go silent when you walk beside them, and then finally reach the fridge section.

Rafe is with his back to you, staring at the open fridge as Kelce does most of the work to find the drink they want, and, when you reach him, you playfully nip at the skin of his arm. Rafe doesn’t even react. You frown and move to stand beside him, looking up at his face, but he doesn’t meet your eyes.

Rafe Cameron is sulking, people.

He shares some words with Kelce while you just stand there for a bit, and he continues to ignore you, even when Kelce includes you in the conversation too. You move closer to him, and, thankfully, his sulking doesn’t extend to avoidance because he doesn’t distance himself from you. With that information, you wrap your arms around his waist, as you always do, and kiss his chest. No response, so you smile and keep your body wrapped around his anyway.

Kelce disappears with the rest of the drinks to finally pay for everything, and Rafe leans away from the fridge door to follow him. But it’s difficult for him to do so when you’re still hugging him.

He struggles to walk, but he doesn’t move you out of the way. He’s petty enough to prefer to struggle rather than lose his silent protest against your actions. You don’t take it to heart, and he knows you wouldn’t. You just laugh into his shirt and let him go, before saying, “Fine. Be moody!”

You walk back to the register with a giddiness nevertheless present in your heart, and go help Kelce and Patty put all your purchases in bags. Rafe only shows up to swipe his card and pay for everything. And, after that, you all leave for the Jeep outside. You say your farewells to Sarah, and she smiles widely as she waves you goodbye.

(...)

It’s been a few good hours since the store, all of you have been in Rafe’s family’s boat ever since you’ve bought everything you needed, and, since then, all you’ve done is drink, swim, and lie in the sun. The, finally, good enough start of your summer.

Rafe… is still sulking, but not in the traditional way. Everyone has noticed his silent pity party to himself, but he talks and interacts with everyone else but you. That’s why they caught on so early. You still take everything he’s doing as a joke and continue on with your life. You still love him as if he’s reciprocating it, and, though he’s ignoring you, he doesn’t seem to hate it all that much.

After baking in the sun for enough time, your bikini is already mostly dry again, and you’re on your way to find a drink. You’ve been talking to Patty while in the sun for most of the time, so you have no idea what the guys have been doing ever since you left them in the water.

You go down a few steps after leaving the front deck, and you can already hear Topper and Kelce’s voices on the other side of the boat, probably still by the water. You grab Rafe’s shirt from the couch in the aft deck and pull it over your head, tying it at your stomach due to the heat.

You enter the dining area of the boat by pushing open the door, and your eyes fall on the half-naked man. “Hey, grumpy,” you say as you walk towards him. No answer. You kiss his hot skin as you walk past and go grab a glass.

You look around for the water bottle that you guys bought and see it in front of Rafe. You scootch in closer and try to reach the bottle as you say, “Excuse me” in a whisper. He does respond to you this time, not moving out of the way like you asked, but by grabbing the bottle and pulling it closer to you so you can reach it. And, just to get on his nerves: “Thank you, baby. I love you so much!” You enthusiastically say.

Still no response, but you can’t exactly see his face as he looks down at his phone, so you drink your water and lean against the cold stone of the counter. Rafe’s attention continues to be on his phone, so you lean in close until your bodies are touching. Rafe stops typing, and you see it as an opportunity to spy on what he’s doing.

You never felt so disappointed in your life. He’s, quite literally, answering emails.

“You’re no fun,” you whisper into the skin of his tanned and naked arm, “I don’t even think I recognize you.”

No response, so you do the second-best thing and start touching him more. Alcohol is already well a part of your system, so you welcome it with all your might. You lean in closer to Rafe and kiss his arm and shoulder. The room you’re in isolates all noise from the outside, so you two can practically hear your lips on his skin.

You leave your glass on the counter and go behind Rafe, wrapping your arms around him to have your chest glued to his smooth back and kissing his spine. But, right before your hands can even begin to explore, the door slides open and disrupts your peace.

You squint at the light behind whoever comes in, and, to your surprise, it’s everybody. You don’t separate from Rafe, given that they were the ones who came in during your love session, and lean your head against him. Rafe looks at them, too, and speaks, as if he doesn't have you glued to him.

“I checked it,” He says to Topper, making his torso vibrate with his voice, “they didn’t talk about any collaborations in the email. Just something about…” and you zoned out.

Patty, having her priorities straight, walks over to the food on the opposite counter and starts making herself her lunch. You eye her as she works in silence, thinking about what you could put on your own sandwich, but Rafe starts moving, disrupting your peace of scanning the imaginary list of ingredients that you brought into the boat. 

You begin to let go of him, thinking he’s planning on leaving the room or whatever, but he simply turns around to lean his back on the counter, and, consequently, faces you. Kelce and Topper start another uninteresting conversation, and you look up at Rafe, who is looking and listening to them attentively. 

Your eyes eye him with much annoyance, and you pull away before your drunken mind decides to really test his ability to ignore you. Aka, twist his nipple.

Moving over to Patty, you look at everything in front of you and decide on your lunch.

“Still ignoring you?” Patty asks with a smile.

You look up at her and shrug. “Guess so”.

“Men…” She says as she shakes her head and resumes her stacking of her ingredients, and you can’t help but laugh.

You grab two pieces of bread and join her in the stacking. You two decide to go eat elsewhere, and you don’t even spare Rafe a look. Yet, if you had, you would’ve seen his eyes on you as you left.

(...)

Hours and many drinks later, everyone gave up swimming for the day. Topper grilled hamburgers for dinner on the above deck, and, with a stomach full of food and alcohol still pumping through everyone’s systems, some retired directly into their beds. The only ones remaining are you, Rafe, and Topper. 

You scroll through your phone’s gallery while they talk, still not being affected by the need for sleep, unlike Topper, who has yawned endlessly for the past 10 minutes. You’re entertained and happy while looking at your screen. 

Now that you and Rafe have no one to hide your relationship from, posting on social media has become a thing. You two aren’t posting anything crazy, like endless pictures of each other's faces or collages of you two kissing – of course not. But things like the same locations in your stories, the same parties, or, in this case, the same boat. Or even other photos, like ones with the entire group – tendency of Patty to force everybody in a group photo spontaneously – or just canon pictures of you or your friends.

It’s maybe dumb that something as small as that makes you happy, but showing off Rafe had been the privilege you had been deprived of ever since the beginning of your relationship. So, you bet your monthly photo-dumps or random groups of photos get to include him and his friends. Your boyfriend’s hot, damnit, god forbid you let the entire world see that.

You’re lying over the couch, mostly hidden by the table in front of you, while Rafe and Topper sit at the head and foot of the table, leaving you more than enough space to just lie down on your phone and roll in whatever direction you might like to.

After a good few moments of scrolling through your gallery, Topper announces his wish to go to bed. They might think that you’re asleep by now, since they both start cleaning up the table without you, so you decide to come out of hiding.

You stretch and sit up, letting Rafe’s shirt, now untied, fall to your lap, and see them talking with the door slid completely open as they throw everything in the trash. You get up, grab the remaining trash, and walk over to them. Topper looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile to acknowledge your presence, and you give him one of yours, too.

“Good night, love birds.” He says as he turns around to go downstairs to the bedrooms.

“Good night,” the two of you say, almost in sync.

Rafe closes the trash once you throw in your stuff, and you go back outside to grab your phone, tying the shirt back up as you walk. Surprisingly, Rafe follows you and takes back his seat at the head of the table. You watch him as he grabs his phone and just continues to be in his own world.

You stand there, just a meter away from him, watching him, and the man just keeps on scrolling.

“Want to go to sleep?” You try to ask him.

No response.

You groan out of frustration and throw your phone back on the table. You’re not going to sleep until he talks to you and stops being his petty self. So, you try to be annoying.

You poke his head, flick his forehead, play with the buzz cut, pinch his neck… Literally nothing.

As you watch him, Rafe leans back on the couch on his phone, and you, with a lack of patience, snatch the phone from his hands. You stare at the screen and sigh. At least he’s not checking emails, but he was just scrolling through social media. You look over at him, and he is still not meeting your eyes.

You throw the phone in the direction of yours, and it falls perfectly in the middle of the table. You take a seat next to him and face him.

You tell him, “All of this because I gave Sarah my number?”

You expected to be ignored, but he, dead serious, turns his head to face you like you hit the nail right on the head. You sit still for a second, shamelessly enjoying his attention on you for starters, and then laughing in his face for how petty this entire afternoon has been. You move, with his eyes still on you, to sit on his lap, facing him, and Rafe doesn’t look away at that.

“Why?” You ask him, looking down at him.

He doesn’t answer, and you roll your eyes.

“How am I supposed to not want to hang out with your sister, when you don’t even tell me what’s so bad about her?” He gives you a look that it’s comical, but you continue, “I’ve known her for as long as I've known you. She seems as normal as any other person in your family.”

That gets him talking, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You laugh at the baffled look on his face, and lay your hands on his shoulders. “You’re still not answering me.”

“She’s annoying,” he tells you.

“That’s it?” You frown, lifting your hands off his shoulder to lay them on your thighs. “Everyone can be annoying, and I still hang out with them.”

Rafe gives you a look of ‘you better not be talking about me’, making you smile, and you look over at the closed glass door everyone had gone through to go to sleep.

“So…” You start again, looking over at Rafe to already find him looking at you, of course. “I can’t hang out with her?”

He shrugs. Like a complete toddler. “You do what you want, babe.”

You groan out of frustration for him and smack his chest, making him sit up and hold back a grin of his own. You two are now much closer to one another, though you still have an advantage in height for sitting over his legs. Your hands move upwards, and your fingers begin to play with his buzzcut.

“What’s so bad about Sarah?” You ask again, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“She is annoying.”

“To you, maybe. Because you’re her brother.” You shrug, “I’ve never found her to be annoying.”

“That’s because you don’t hang with her enough.”

“And you do?” You pause your hands, knowing damn well that Rafe does not spend time with his family unless he is forced/coerced to. He leans back on his hands while looking at you. “Why is she annoying?”

“Babe,” Rafe starts, letting out a dry laugh, “Hang out with her, if you want. You can be friends with whoever-”

“But you’re sulking,” you tell him.

“I’m not.”

“Rafe,” You say seriously, “You’ve been sulking all day.” He makes a face as if you’re the wrong one, “You have to be kidding me.”

He doesn’t answer, and you huff out a breath. You use his shoulders as something to hold as you stand up. His eyes, in return, only watch you as you move.

“I’m going to bed. I’m done talking to you.” You tell him, only meaning those words half-heartedly, and Rafe knows it.

“Why?”

“Because you’re being annoying,” You tell him. “You ignored me all day. I have a right to be mad at you.”

Rafe smiles at your words, and you begin to walk towards the glass doors. You hear him moving behind you, but you’re quicker. You slide the door open and get in, closing and locking it behind you. Rafe, on the other hand, stands there, on the other side of the glass, hands on his hips like he expected you to do this. His hand doesn’t even reach for the door to know that you locked it.

“Open the door,” his voice is muffled, making you smile.

“What?” You lean in closer to the glass, “Can’t hear you.”

Rafe doesn't say anything, just to add suspense.

“There are other doors,” Your eyes widen, “you know that, right?”

First, your brain thinks that surely the other doors would be locked, given that time has begun to reach AM, and all of you have to be safe out here... But, if they're not, can you even run that fast to close everything up before he gets in?

“And where is the fun in that?” You shrug.

“So what? You want me to stand here and-”

“And think about what you did, yes.”

Rafe looks at you as if expecting you to laugh and unlock the door, but you’re unmovable. You cross your arms and lean against the kitchen counter, watching him. He looks over his shoulder as he sighs, and then a smile appears on his face.

“You left your phone out here.” Damn it.

“That’s fine, I’ll get it after.”

Rafe makes a face that makes you lean away from the counter, “I don’t know. He might fall in the water during the night.” He takes a step back, towards the table, making you smile in panic.

“Rafe,” you try to sound serious, but fail miserably.

“What?” He pretends to not hear you, mimicking you, and keeps walking towards the table. You watch as he grabs his phone first, putting it into his pocket, and then yours. You don’t fold just yet, but keep watching his every move.

Rafe looks down at your phone, acting as if he’s messing with it, and then, suddenly, starts moving away from the table and the view of the glass. You call out his name, no answer. Gosh, will you actually have to fall for his bluff?

“You’re not going to throw my phone in the water.”

“It’s outdated anyway,” You hear him a little far away already. “I’ll get you a new one.”

You try to be strong and hold yourself together. You can’t fall for his tricks this easily, but blame it on the alcohol, which is minimal at this point, to make you more gullible. You have too many things in that phone to lose it in the waves because of locking your boyfriend out.

“Okay, fine!” You exclaim, unlocking the door.

You step out, expecting to see him just by the door, with a stupid smile on his face about how he tricked you. But you don’t see him anywhere. “Rafe?” You call out, still no answer. You leave the door open behind you and keep walking.

You check the front deck first, empty. You go down and keep calling out his name. Still nothing. You look around, trying to not spook yourself with something so dumb.

The waters surrounding the boat are dark, and so is everything all around it. The darkest you’ve ever seen the night be. The boat, of course, is well illuminated, but it still leaves you uneasy.

As you keep walking, now nearly by the back of the boat that leads to the water, you’re silent, not calling out for Rafe anymore. Maybe he went around and is now locking the door to keep you out? Should you go back? And then, when you least expect it, he just comes out of nowhere and grabs you.

The scream that comes out of you is inhumane, which makes you laugh as soon as you come to your senses - hopefully, not waking up anyone. Rafe is laughing at you, and you smack his head.

“You’re such an asshole!” You ask him, “Why weren’t you answering me?”

He mimicks you again, now putting on a squeaky voice, “Where’s the fun in that?” You smack his head again, making him laugh more.

“I was scared, you ass.” You say, admitting it outright, as you look up at him while being glued to his chest. “What if I’d fallen in the water?” You point to the water right next to you.

“You think I’d let that happen?”

“Yes!” You say a little too loudly, making him smile brightly at you. “Yes, I do. You’re an ass, and that would be an ass thing to do. So, yes!”

“I would never.” He tells you, making you give him a death stare.

Rafe kisses your lips anyway, but you don’t budge. He deserves to have you be the one to sulk now. After this entire day, and now this? He deserves worse.

Rafe seems to notice what you’re doing right as you start it, which makes him chuckle, but, of course, the way Rafe deals with you is much different than the way you are with him. He begins kissing your cheek, holding you close to him, and then he lands a kiss on your neck... right before throwing you over his shoulder.

You hold in any sound of surprise, and he starts walking upstairs again. You don’t move. You act dead, letting yourself swing on his shoulder as he moves.

When upstairs, he grabs the phones from his pocket and throws them on the table again, confusing you, as you expected to be brought to your bedroom. Rafe takes you off his shoulder and sits you down on the table, too. You stare up at him, with no reaction, and then his lips go directly on yours.

You kiss back, but you make sure to lay your hands on the table, refusing to touch him as you usually do. Rafe’s hands hold onto your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then move over to your hips. You ignore it at first, but it’s hard to when he starts untying the bows at the sides of your pink bikini.

Still, you give him no reaction.

Your lips don’t separate, but your bikini lies now open, making a warmth travel and burn at the bottom of your stomach. One of Rafe’s hands, previously lying over one of your thighs, moves between your legs, and you hold yourself together when you feel his fingers touch your pussy. He groans into your kiss when he drags his fingers in between your lips down towards the entrance, to already find you wet. You concentrate on your silence and on the kiss, but his fingers move up to your clit again, making you lose almost all hope in yourself.

Rafe breaks the kiss to look down at his wet hand, and so do you. His fingers work slow circles over your clit, and you let out a breath, making Rafe smile and look up at you. Your eyes meet, and his hand stops, making you want to protest, but you stay put. Rafe lays his hand on your stomach, laying you down over the table, and he goes down on his knees.

With one of your legs over his shoulder and one of his hands on the other, Rafe’s mouth starts working as soon as it can. You lift your hand over your mouth almost instantly, feeling the warmth of his hand against you, his tongue on your clit, and his breathing on your skin. Your eyes stay trained on the white roof over the table, and you focus on your breathing.

Rafe’s mouth licks, sucks, and kisses your pussy like he’s a man starved. He knows what you’re trying to do, but he also knows that you’re near failing. You’re trying to control your breathing, your sounds, your hands, and your legs to not let out any reaction, and it’s getting to be too much.

His mouth abandons your clit to move down to your entrance, and his nose touches your clit almost by accident. You bite your tongue, but Rafe catches the feeling of your thigh twitching once on his shoulder. He smiles into you and brings up one of his hands to start playing with your clit while he slides his tongue inside you.

His thumb moves faster in circles on your clit, and you can’t help but let out a small whimper. Your eyes sting a little, as tears are wanting to escape from the corner of your eyes, and you blink them away. Rafe slides his tongue out of you and moves upwards to your clit, moving his hand away for now. The warmth of his mouth is almost too much for you, but then his tongue starts moving, and you feel two of his fingers slide into you with almost no warning.

You cough out a moan, but your hand doesn’t move away from your mouth. Rafe wraps his lips around your clit and sucks on it while his fingers begin to move back and forth inside of you, knowing exactly where to hit every time.

As always, his knowledge of your body is beginning to be a little too much for you.

And then, what feels like seconds after, his mouth pulls away, and so do his fingers. When you see him stand up, you take your hand off your mouth and try to ignore the cold between your legs as you pull yourself up on your elbows.

“Turn around,” Rafe tells you, with his hands on your hips, but you don’t move, both for still trying to catch your breath and for your promise to not give up that easily.

Without any delay, Rafe flips you easily to lie on your stomach, and you huff out a breath of annoyance when you almost face plant into the table. Your bikini bottoms now fall to the ground, but you ignore them as you feel Rafe grab onto your hips from behind you. And, just in a few seconds, your annoyance evaporates when you feel Rafe’s dick slide into you. It’s slow. Torturing. And without any pause. But you almost forget your anger the moment it happens.

You two stay like that for a bit, but then Rafe begins to move. You try to concentrate, of course you do. You repeat the words, you got this, over and over in your brain, but it’s way harder than you think it is. The pleasure that had gone dormant from Rafe’s pause of his initial attack on you resumes exactly where it left off, and you almost lose it.

Your entire body feels warm, your pussy feels soaked, and your back naturally arches as soon as Rafe keeps moving. You hear him chuckle behind you, but you try to ignore it so as to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. His dick slides easily back and forth inside of you at a pace that, though it isn’t the slowest he has punished you with, it’s nowhere near the pace you wish you could be at. It’s almost anxiety-inducing because Rafe knows what he’s doing. And he’s just telling you, without using any words, that though he almost has you breaking, he hasn’t even started yet.

And then, finally, he speeds up to a normal pace, and you lean your head onto the table. You focus on your breathing, knowing that it is already shaking, and at the beginning of a moan, but you know that Rafe can’t hear it. So, you let yourself indulge in that alone.

You close your eyes, concentrating further as pleasure continues to burn at the end of your tummy and travels down to your legs, and Rafe doesn’t seem to like how silent you are.

Out of nowhere, Rafe grabs you by your torso and pulls you up, making you arch into him and almost lean your head back on his shoulder.

“Why are you doing that?” He asks you in a mumble just below your ear, “Uhm?” He questions you.

You don’t respond, but your hands lie on the table to hold you better. His hands hold onto your waist, and you try to ignore the sounds coming from both of you. Rafe knows it right away.

“You think you’re winning, uhm?” He continues, “But you're so fucking wet that the whole boat could hear you if they were awake.”

The sound of the wet smack of skin and squelching of your pussy, makes you unconsciously squeeze Rafe’s dick, and he laughs into your ear.

“Look at you,” He kisses your neck between words, “Holding yourself together so well.” He nips at your skin, and then all you feel is his lips and tongue over your skin.

Rafe’s hands undo the tie of his shirt on you, and his hands disappear under the fabric. Your hands lift off the table as Rafe pulls you in closer and closer to his chest, and the angle worsens your entire situation. His hands find your chest and pull your tits out of the tight bikini, and, as soon as you feel his mouth on your skin again while his fingers pinch at one of your nipples, you let out a loud and shaky sigh that Rafe can now definitely hear.

“You got it, you got it.” He pokes fun at you. He kisses your cheek and the corner of your lips, “But I got to say… I already miss your whining.”

You intake air harshly through your nose as Rafe thrusts into you with a little more force, and you open your eyes. He kisses your jaw and pulls you in closer to his chest, making his warmth familiarly engulf you.

Rafe looks down at you, his head just beside yours, and you force yourself to not meet his eye. “You know what, baby?” He asks, “I’m being way too nice with you… And I really shouldn’t.”

You stay silent, biting your tongue to try and distract yourself with the slight pain of it. Rafe’s hands move away from under the shirt, and he pauses his thrusts. You breathe in and out slowly, and he grabs one of your legs, lifting it to the table and opening space for his hand. His thrusts resume with that, and his fingers return to your clit.

Rafe kisses up your neck and lets go of your waist to force your head to face him. You strengthen your back to hold yourself up as his hips continue to meet yours - his movements at the same pace as before - and Rafe looks you right in the eye as if nothing is affecting him. His poker face is surely better than yours, but you try to not lose hope in yourself.

“Am I being mean to you?” He asks you, the sound of his thrusts invading your ears and making you hold in your breath. “Uhm? Am I?” He kisses your lips with a peck, and you look down at his mouth when he pulls away, “You can tell me, baby, and I promise that I’ll take better care of you.”

He kisses you again, and a little sound escapes your mouth when Rafe’s tongue meets yours. Your hands itch to touch him. To grab his head to force him closer to you. Or his arm to hold yourself up. The kiss is wet and messy, but Rafe intends for it to be so. You squeeze his dick harder and harder, and smaller sounds escape you as you get more drunk off of him.

Rafe then decides to put some more force into his thrusts, and, with your mouths open into a kiss, an actual moan breaks out of you. Rafe smiles and pulls away from your lips, victorious and proud. You try to go back down to the table, trying to get yourself back together by distancing yourself from him and his warmth, smell, and lips, but Rafe doesn’t let you. He roughly pulls you back to his chest by wrapping his arm around your waist as he thrusts, and a shaky breath comes out of your mouth.

“Are you going to cry?” He asks you, his tone so heavy with humor, that you find it evil when directed at you. You close your eyes and force down the urge to cry out your pleasure, and Rafe just keeps making it worse. His fingers pause on the small circles on your clit and pinch it softly as he leans his head onto the crook of your neck. He bites your skin and moves away to look down at your face. Rafe looks as he speeds up his pace and thrusts fully into you. He reads your face like a book. And though you’re silent, you couldn’t make it more obvious to him. “You can cry. I got you. I always do.”

You’re getting distracted. Your pleasure is getting higher and higher, and Rafe does not shut up. He keeps talking in your ear, knowing that if he does, your pleasure just gets worse as your pussy squeezes him like a vice. He calls you his crybaby, his baby, his pretty girl. All of it to get in your head. And he succeeds.

Your hand lifts off the table and moves towards his on your waist. You grab it to try and get some strength back into you, but Rafe sees it as a slip-up and starts moving his fingers quicker against your poor clit to only make it worse. Your eyes open, and Rafe bites at your neck. Your other hand lifts up to his nape, scratching his skin, and he grunts at your touch.

“You want to come?” Rafe asks you against the skin of your cheek, and you find yourself nodding. His chuckle hits your face, and he forcibly kisses you. “You do, yeah?” You nod again when he pulls away, “Ask me, then.”

You sob out loud as the pleasure intensifies and a tear escapes. Rafe smiles at you, prouder than he’s ever been of himself, but you don’t ask him for anything. He kisses you again, with bruising force, and that just makes you whimper against his lips. His fingers move faster and faster, and your hands hold onto him like a lifeline. Your sounds start getting louder and louder, still not yet being their usual volume, but Rafe takes them in like medals. Every single one of them.

“I’ll stop.” He warns you, making you look at him in surprise. “If you don’t ask for it, I’ll stop, and we’ll go to sleep.”

And the look you give him… Rafe could’ve melted right there and then. You plead with your teary eyes, small sobs of pleasure leaving your mouth, as you almost pout at him. Rafe was ready to give you the orgasm and more. Anything in the world could be yours if you kept it up. But you decide to shake your head.

“No?” He asks you, “No, you don’t want to come?” He tests you, “Or no, you don’t want me to stop?”

He pinches your clit when you don’t answer, and you, finally, let out a real moan. He can tell that you’re getting closer. Your pussy is impossibly wet, your breathing is irregular, you're holding onto him as if he’ll let you fall to the ground at any second, and then you tense up. Rafe, though it pains him to, stops moving right away.

“I guess we’ll go to sleep, then.”

“No, no, no…” You whisper at him, pulling at him with your hands as if scared that he’ll disappear. Rafe leans in as you pull him by his nape, and you peck his lips. Rafe kisses you for more time, and you start to feel everything. His naked chest against you, his tight hold on your waist, his lips on yours, his dick entirely inside you, and his other hand paused at your clit. He pulls away, and you sigh.

“Say it, then.” Rafe encourages.

“P… Please make me come.” You whisper against his lips, so low that Rafe’s ear almost doesn’t register, but he takes it as enough.

“Of course, baby.” He kisses you at the end of the sentence, “Anything for my pretty girl, yeah?”

You nod at him, and he starts slowly at first. As soon as the speed and force come back, you’re too aware of every single thing and come incredibly fast. Rafe holds you as he keeps going, thrusting into you deeply as he forces you to ride out your orgasm as he finds his, and, the second you start making your overstimulated whines, Rafe is done for. He thrusts a final time and comes inside you, and he grunts against the skin of your shoulder.

His breathing takes some time to calm down, and you relax your hold on him. Rafe takes his hand away from your pussy and lays it over the table to stand up straight. Your hand falls from his head as he does so, and you grab his wrist from that same arm. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, and the wind of the sea hits your wet face. Gosh, what a mess.

You two don’t talk for a bit, but Rafe doesn’t take long to feel himself get back to normal. He is careful when he pulls out of you and pulls his shorts back up. He’s slow to let you go, making sure that you can stand on your own already, and he grabs the bottoms of your bikini from the floor. He hands it to you, and when he goes to pick you up, you stop him.

“Rafe, the table.” You tell him, looking at it.

“What?”

You laugh and point at the table you just had sex on, “We got to clean the table. We have every meal on that thing”. Rafe sighs as he looks at it.

You put your bikini back on while Rafe trusts you to stand by yourself, and he cleans the table very well, to your request (also known as orders). Once he’s done, he goes to wash his hands, and you move towards the inside of the boat. You close the door and lock it behind you, and look over to find Rafe drying his hands on the kitchen cloth.

“Don't forget the other doors,” you tell him.

“What other doors?” He asks, making you frown.

“You said they were unloc-” And he smiles at you.

Asshole.

Rafe throws the now clean, once again, cloth onto the counter, and you kiss his arm. “Let’s go,” you whisper at him, and he nods.

Both of you are about to get the best night of sleep in your lives.

[mon-nympht]

DEAN WINCHESTER

Supernatural | S1-S8 : Not all kisses are sweet.

[mon-nympht]

Tutor: Promise

Words: 8k+ Summary: After the party, everything goes down. Warnings: Female!Reader. Insults. Slut shaming. Difficult relationships with parents, specifically fathers. Mention of drinking, sex, drugs, and violence. MDNI. A/N.: Ignore the fact that I've been gone for almost a year. Imagine it only took me like... 2 months :) Probably needs more proofreading, so, pls be nice <3

Tutor Masterlist

Time felt weird. It felt like it was going too fast and too slow at times. When you walked out of that building, the cold outside made everything too real. All the words. The expression on your parents’ faces. All of it. They kept replaying yet again in your memory, making you more nauseous by the second. And, with each second that went by, your parents never seemed to finally walk out of the building.

You tried to prepare yourself for when they did, what to say, and how to act so that nothing could become much worse for you by not knowing what to say. You thought of saying a whole speech of how you regretted not telling them, and how you will explain everything. You thought of maybe even calling Rafe out of the room, but that felt even worse. You thought of not saying anything at all, but you could already see how that would just leave them to assume more and more of what went down.

When the doors of the building behind you opened, you almost lost your footing, watching as your parents walked out. They looked composed at first, like nothing had happened. But the closer they got to you, right beside the car, you noticed your father’s tense posture and your mother’s eyes, reddened and moist with tears ready to burst out.

You opened your mouth to talk, your chin shook when her broken eyes met yours, and, with much disappointment on your side, no words that you practiced came out, just a small sob. Your father’s eyes moved to stare at you once the sound came out, but he didn’t say anything just yet.

You tried to reach for your mother when she was close enough, but she didn’t respond, simply sniffled and moved her hand to clean the corner of her painted eyes, careful to not smudge a thing. As your father reached for the car keys, you swallowed some of the tears and tried to speak, letting out a short and ridiculous “I can explain”, but it met deaf ears. No one responded.

Once the car was unlocked, your mother opened the door and walked right in, but your father stood there, watching her as she did it, deep in thought. You tried to open your mouth to talk to him instead, but when his eyes met yours again, all he said was, “Get in the car.”

You did, and the trip home was horrible. You held your tears in, feeling your chin shake and your face wet from tears you didn’t care to wipe away. Your mother cried in small sniffles, ones which at times got the response from your father as an understanding look or a hand over hers. No words were said, and it all hurt more by the second.

Once inside your house, you felt like it all broke loose. Your mother put down her bag at the entrance, and her eyes met her feet as she let out a sob for the first time. Your father does not move, standing mere inches from the door that was just closed behind him.

“I can try to explain.” You blurted out again, heart beating out of your chest, and panic beginning to rise higher and higher.

“Is there anything to explain?” Your father asks, almost spitting his words in your direction.

“Yes.” You nod, trying to sound convincing, but your following words, with the nerves, just shoot out of your mouth, “I didn’t mean to hide it like this- It was not really planned- It all just started as a… I’m not sure- But there is nothing wrong with Rafe. I love him, and he treats me well. I promise. He is nothing like people say he is-”

“Do you hear yourself?” He asks you, his expression morphing into a worried yet angry look.

“Yes, Dad, please. You have to believe me!” You step closer to him, wanting to hold his attention and make him believe your words, “Rafe is not as bad as you think he is. Please don’t be mad.”

He shakes his head and pulls his hand away before you can even reach him. Your heart breaks, and he walks away from the door, creating a larger distance between the two of you as he needs space to think. Your eyes stupidly fill up with tears again as you grow more and more helpless, and it all seems to get worse just because of it.

“Stop crying,” Your mother says, looking at you, finally. “You have to stop crying every time something does not go your way. You are not a child.”

“But mom…” You try to talk, but your broken heart wants to express itself further, consuming your body and making you want to cry or else run out of air to hold it in further. “You have to believe me. There is nothing wrong with this. We are just dating... He is like any other boyfriend.”

Your father chuckles at your words, and your wet eyes meet his again. Your body is starting to feel weird. Your skin feels clammy, your body feels hot, but your teeth keep wanting to chatter. At the same time, your mind is going too fast with ideas of what to say to the point of not being able to get anything out to defend yourself or Rafe. Your previous attempts had been bad enough. You feel ridiculous, but there isn't much you can do.

He leans forward as if to hear you better once you speak, “Like any other boyfriend? Do you hear yourself?” He asks you, chuckling but finding no humor behind his questions. “The Rafe that I keep hearing gets into multiple fights a week and got into the hospital for alcohol poisoning, is like any other boyfriend?”

You frown amid your tears, “That isn't freaking true!” You exclaim, “This is what I mean when I say that Rafe isn’t like what other people say he is. He does not get into fights like that, and he doesn’t drink- I never saw him drunk, even!”

Your mother turns to face you, “When could you have seen him drunk? At home?”

“I-”

“Y/N, you better shut up.” Your father interrupts you, “You are only digging yourself a bigger hole.”

“How long has it been going on?” Your mother asks, going against your father’s wish to have you in silence.

“Months.” You admit, “Not sure how many.”

“More than two?” You nod, “More than five?” You nod too, and her eyes swell up in tears again before she looks away, all while your father seems to be driving himself to madness as he looks at you. “Have you been to parties too? Is that it? Without your friends?”

“Kristy and I haven’t been talk-”

“And why is that?!” Your father asks loudly and angrily, making you flinch.

“Because she found out about me and Rafe.” You admit, forcefully wiping away your tears to grasp onto any dignity you had left.

“What do you mean ‘found out’?”

“I didn’t tell her either when we started seeing each other,” Your father chuckles again humorlessly, “And she saw me with him once.”

“Let me guess, he has been in our home too?” Your mother asks, trying to see if there is anything the man hasn’t done yet without her knowledge.

“Yes.”

She shakes her head, disappointment filling her every pore, and she does not try to hide it from you. Your heart keeps jumping in your chest, but you try to calm it down as it is doing you absolutely no favors.

A silence follows, and you notice that you have finally run out of tears, even when your mother has not, and her make-up has become too smudged for any of it to be salvaged. Your father stands feet beside you, seething with the idea of anything ever happening between you and Rafe.

You smooth your hands down on your dress, cleaning the sweat from your palms, and try to think back on what you had been wanting to tell them before you lost control of everything around you. “I am not proud of hiding it from anyone. I did it to try to calm down any unwanted reactions. I tried to not make this a surprise. I-” You pause to clear your throat when you notice you are nearing tears yet again, “I meant it to be me who would say it to you and to Kristy and the rest of the girls. I wanted to tell you everything when I would be done with school. Not be ambushed by it twice in a month… I’m sorry for lying and for hiding all of this. I never meant to hurt anyone with it.”

“Hurt anyone with it?” Your mother asks dumbfounded, “Has it ever occurred to you that we, or Kristy, are against this relationship, not because of our feelings, but because we are scared for you?”

We… or Kristy…

“You’ve talked to Kristy…” You realize in a low tone. They ignore it as they mustn’t have heard it.

“Rafe, rumors or not, is dangerous. He has always been.” Your mother throws her hand in the air to emphasize her despair, “I am angry that you did not tell me, but I am angrier with the fact that you chose him, of all people, to date. He can hurt you. He can… He can do so much wrong. Drugs, alcohol, unprotected relations, all of it.” She breathes, “He is bad news, Y/N. He has always been. You cannot do this to yourself.”

You turn to your father and see that he must agree with all of your mother’s words, because he doesn’t seem to have anything else to add. Angry or not, he seems to prefer to be silent.

“No matter what you think, I am not breaking up with Rafe.” You tell them both. “I am not doing it. I have said this to Kristy, as I’m sure both of you have heard from her. And, since our conversations weren’t exactly civil, I am sure you will not even want to hear when I say that I know Rafe. I know him and I have known him for quite some time. I have watched him before. I have met his family, years ago. I have met his friends. I have seen him do everything possible under the sun, and he has not once hurt me.”

There is a short silence until “What about Aiden?” Your father asks, bringing his hand up to rub his jaw in frustration.

“What about him?” You ask, knowing exactly what he means.

“Rafe sent him to the hospital. He beat him to a pulp, Y/N.” He explains, still angry.

“I know he did.”

“You were there?” Your mother asks. Her mouth hangs open as she isn't able to contain her shock.

“I was.”

Your father can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you sound, “And you’re fine with it.” He affirms it, moving his shoulder as if it is so natural to say it aloud.

“No, I was never fine with it. I have always hated violence. Rafe knows how much I’m against it, too.” You tell him, trying to sound sure of your words. “But though I think he took it too far... Aiden did deserve it.”

“Deserve it?!” Your mother repeats in a squeal.

“Who even are you?” Your father dramatically asks, “Because my daughter would never say this, ever-” You interrupt him.

“I made Rafe apologize for it. I’ve contacted Aiden, and he himself told me that Rafe did indeed say ‘sorry’ and paid for the medical bills.” You tell them, “I didn’t make him do it like he was a child, or because he needed someone to tell him how wrong it was. He knew that he went too far, and that is why he apologized as soon as I called him out on it.”

They don’t say anything.

“That was the only time I saw Rafe being violent. He didn’t initiate it, and, still, he never did it again.” You conclude.

“So, Aiden started it?” Your father asks. “The Aiden that I’ve known for so many years and has sat at our table, that Aiden- That Aiden picked a fight with Rafe?” He almost laughs at how ludicrous it all sounded.

“No. Aiden started it with me, and Rafe ended it.” You clarify. “Aiden was drunk, and that is why I don’t think he deserved what happened to the full extent. He came up to me, figured out that I didn’t want anything to do with him, insulted me, and Rafe punched him.”

“Right…” Your father nods, finding you to be full of shit. “Rafe, the gentleman.”

You look away, noticing how he’s beginning to make fun of you. You look towards your mother instead, who has been silently listening to you and never tried to test your patience as much as him.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe it, Y/N, I am sorry.” She tells you. Her natural, saddened pout reappears as her eyes fill up with tears again, forcing you to look down at the ground. “I’m scared for you, really. I am.”

“Mom-” You try to stop her.

“He is dangerous, Y/N. People will talk as soon as you go public with him. Everyone will see it and think the same thing.” She says, almost running out of breath as she fights her tears.

You don’t seem to have any more words to say.

She tells you outright, “He is a drug addict. My friends have kids just like you who have been to these parties with Rafe. He is always coked up, they say.” She tries to wipe away her tears. “He drinks a lot. He is rude. He is mean. And he might sound dreamy, but that is only because you are a teenager. He sounds dangerous, and that is why you are attracted to him.” She holds your shoulders now, “But you need to get away from him before it is too late-”

“Mom, stop it!”

“He is a bad influence… He will get you into drugs, too. You cannot do this to yourself. To us!” Her eyes are wide, and she looks insane. As if she has already gone mad with all that has happened. “You need to break up-”

“Shut up!” You say loudly, and she shuts her mouth. She lifts her hands from your shoulders and brings them over her mouth, creating a distance between the two of you. “Jesus Christ, Mom! Please stop this craziness about how he will hurt me. You don’t even know the guy!”

“Watch how you talk to your mother!” Your father defends her, “She is worried about you!”

“Yeah, because she prefers to think back on the rumors that she’s heard rather than listen to her daughter. She prefers to listen to Kristy rather than her own daughter, who is healthy and not into drugs, and tells her that everything is fine. And, still, everyone is going ABSOLUTELY INSANE!” You almost scream out the last words. The frustration inside of you had to get out in some way.

“You need to leave him.” Your father says, ignoring your words.

“And why should I do that?” You ask him, scoffing.

“Because your mother is right, Y/N. He is dangerous. Even you, yourself, admitted it in your version of the story. Rafe preferred to start a fight instead of talking it out with Aiden! Imagine when he has an argument with you!”

“He punched Aiden because Aiden called me whore!”

Before you even get to say anything else, your father responds, “Well, given how you are acting, maybe Aiden was right.”

The entrance hall of your home goes silent, and even your mother stops her sobs amid all the yelling. No one dares to speak, but your father does not seem to regret his words. He doesn’t try to correct himself or, as he usually does, admit he only spoke from a space of anger and frustration. You stay silent because you wait for him to say it, but he never does. Your father thinks you are a whore, all because of your relationship with Rafe.

Your mother doesn’t say anything, but her eyes find her husband’s. She doesn’t agree with him, but she doesn’t try to defend you. You are acting too differently for her to recognize you in your actions, but all these words were going too far.

“Maybe.” You tell your father, looking him in the eyes.

“What?”

 “What?” You repeat, “Maybe Aiden was right. That’s what you said, why are you so surprised?” You shrug, “But since you agree with him that you have a whore of a daughter, and maybe a druggie as a future son-in-law, it's not that bad, right?” You spit your words, letting them escape your mouth, finally with no filter. “Just like I have an idiotic father and mother who prefer to believe strangers over their own daughter.”

Your father is fuming at your words. Only now that your words finally have a bite, and you aren't struggling to put a coherent sentence amid your tears. He has a problem with all that you’ve been saying, even if all you’re doing is repeating what they’ve said to you.

“Did you know that Aiden was the one who introduced me to alcohol, along with Kristy?” You tell them both, and then fixate on your mother, “Aiden also was the one who took my virginity and introduced me to unprotected relations…” You quote her. “The same Aiden that you both have known for years and has sat at your table.” You smile sarcastically, “That Aiden.”

And then your cheek stung, but you expected it.

“Get out of my house.” Your father says. His hand is hot from the impact.

You look into your mother’s wet eyes as your smile falls, and your own eyes plead to cry from the pain and humiliation of its form. You sniffle before you say, “Okay.”

(…)

The walking out wasn’t as smooth as you’d wanted it to be. You were still able to hear your mother gasp as you reached for the handle of the door, as if walking out of the house had been your idea all along. She didn’t stop you, physically or verbally. She let you go, but you still heard her project her worries to your father as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You hesitate on who to call. Rafe felt obvious, but he was also at the party. Rose already knew enough. You didn’t want to pull him away from the family hangout and ruin it any further. So, you thought about it a little more. You had Topper or Kelce, but they probably already got too drunk. As soon as Patty sent you a text asking where you’d gone, you didn’t hesitate to call instead of typing.

“Hey, where are you?” she asks, loudly, as if in a loud room. “I went outside for a bit and, when I came back to check on you, you were gone.”

“I’m at my house.” You tell her, holding in any of the tears.

“Oh, okay.” She says, finding the location weird, given how early the night still is.

“But I actually have to get out of here,” You try to explain, taking a deep breath to make sure you don’t make this any harder for yourself, “Could you come pick me up?”

“Sure,” She says, but her tone is thick with utter confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“I got kicked out.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah…” You sniffle and kick a little bit of gravel into the path before you. “So, could you come pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course!” She says, loudly, almost as if snapping out of the shock, “I’m going to my car, now.”

“Thank you.”

 “No need,” She says, “See you soon.”

You answer her before turning off the call, but your phone starts vibrating with another one right after. You expected it to be Patty, having found Rafe, or forgetting your address, but no. It’s actually Kristy. You have no idea why you thought she would stay away now.

 You smooth down your dress, thanking the summer night for not having you shaking in the cold as you waited for your friend. Your breathing is shaky, but tears seem to have dried out completely by now. A miracle. It must be from dehydration.

The phone vibrates yet again from another call, but you deny it again when noticing that it is Kristy calling you yet again. What more could she have to say to you?

Hope rises in your chest every time a car drives by, expecting it to be Patty, who will finally drive you away from this house, where you can finally stop thinking about what went wrong.

You had to start thinking about your life. Your parents have always given you everything. They were going to pay for college and support you in whatever future you’d decide to have. And now, you’ll have nothing. No help. No support. You’re on your own. Could you even afford to go to college anymore?

A car slows down to a stop in front of your home, and you get ready to talk to Patty. But that isn’t Patty’s car.

Well, shit.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. For everything!” Her voice shouts out into the night, and you close your fists in pure irritation to see her again. “I never meant for it to go this far!” Kristy shouts as she gets out of the car.

You don’t answer her. You simply fish out your phone from your purse again and text a ‘Hurry up’ to Patty to keep yourself busy. Kristy doesn’t seem to have cared for your lack of attention, as she continues to walk in your direction and outstretches her hand, as if asking you to hold it. You can't even hold back your disgust once you notice it.

 “I am so sorry,” Kristy says, now standing in front of you. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it. I should’ve listened to you.”

Her hand tries to envelop yours, but you pull away quickly. “Don’t touch me.”

“Please, you have to hear me out. I was just so worried about you. I even tried to talk it out with your parents to calm them down, too.” She breathes out as if she ran to say this to you. “But they just wanted to leave and talk to you about it.”

You still don’t say anything.

“Let’s go inside and talk to them together.” She reaches for your hand again, and you take a step back. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? We’ve been best friends for so many years, we can’t just throw that away, right?”

“You already did.” You answer her, surprising her. “You did it as soon as we talked in your car, and only fortified it with whatever happened tonight.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is to me.” You tell her, “I haven’t been your friend since then. So, yes. We did throw that away.”

Your name escapes her lips in a pleading tone, and you almost slap her across the face when noticing tears forming in her eyes. She had to be joking. What reasons could she have to cry? In your face, specifically?

Another car comes to a stop in front of your home, and you sigh when you notice another right behind. Patty told Rafe. Great.

You start walking towards them, but Kristy seems not to really get what you told her, because she stays close behind. “We can fix this, still, Y/N.” Kristy says, “Let’s go inside, please. Let’s talk to your parents and sort this out.”

You look over your shoulder and see her turn around. You watch her as she starts knocking on your front door. All while Rafe, Patty, and Topper all start getting out of the cars, you begin to want to bury yourself in a literal hole. With this, the front door also opens, and you let out the biggest sigh. This could not have gotten worse.

You decide to keep on walking in the direction of the cars, and Kristy’s voice starts again, but now with your parents. It's all the same: apologies and trying to amend anything that she’s done. But the reality is that your parents are not focused on her or her words, but really on your back as you walk away, and the cars that are parked in front of their home.

“What the hell happened?” Rafe asks you as soon as you stand close enough, and his voice, though low, gets everyone’s attention.

“Got kicked out.” You say, surprising yourself with a shrug.

Your parents stand by the door with Kristy right in front of them. She tries to reach out to them, trying to hold onto your mother’s hand and rain down more apologies, just like you had listened to. Your mother’s hand is unmoving, even when Kristy’s hand goes around it. She tries to speak to her, but your mother’s eyes are focused on you only. She cannot hear what you’re saying to Rafe, who is still wearing his suit, and as he lays his hand on your shoulder. His own eyes haven’t lifted to face anyone else. They are stuck on you as you speak.

Patty and Topper also walk closer, almost covering you away from your parents’ gaze. Your father notices how Rafe’s expression twists multiple times throughout the sentences that you tell him. A mixture of anger and confusion all around. A girl he doesn’t recognize, Patty, wraps her arm around you and continues to listen to you in silence. All while Topper Thornton has brought his hands to his head, listening to you, frustrated, as he scrubs his hair.

“We can all fix this.” Kristy’s voice cuts through everyone’s trances, those who listen to you and those who are fixated on you from a distance. “This can all be fixed.”

Rafe lifts his gaze for the first time with her words and looks directly at her. He has no reaction, but Kristy still cannot find herself to meet his eye. Not after all of this. She holds onto your mother’s hand and squeezes it before facing her, with her smudged makeup and teary eyes.

Rafe looks away and down at you. Your parents notice that you seem to be calmer than when you were inside the house. At least, you didn’t seem to be violently crying as you once had done amidst the argument inside. Rafe says something to you that your mother cannot understand, and you only nod in response. Patty smooths her hand down your back in comfort, and Topper shares a look with her in complete shock. He never knew how bad this was.

Kristy looks between the two groups in despair, not knowing what to say or do. She lets go of your mother’s hand, making her realize she had been holding it this entire time, and decides to start walking towards you. Topper notices her first, and Patty right after. Patty looks Kristy dead in the eye, and it makes her stop walking.

 “We should go,” Patty says to you before turning her head to face you.

“Where do I even go?” You ask her, and Kristy looks at you, noticing you are holding Rafe’s hand as you speak.

“Any of our houses.” Patty shrugs, and you look up at Rafe, who is looking down at you in silence. “Why don’t you stay with Rafe today, and I’ll get the spare room in my house ready? My parents are on a trip for a month.” Her hand rubs between your shoulders, and you nod.

“Is that okay?” You ask Rafe, as if he could ever say no to you.

He gives you a look that would’ve made you laugh any other day, but not this one. Rafe then pulls you over in the direction of the car, and Patty’s hand falls from your back, letting you walk away. Kristy, for the last time, tries to follow you before you leave for the Camerons’ home, but Patty steps in her way, stopping her.

“You’ve done enough today,” Patty tells her, as she listens to the car door closing on the passenger’s side. Rafe walks around the car to the driver’s seat, and Kristy follows him with her eyes.

“I have to tell her that I’m sorry.”

“It won’t do anything,” Patty tells her, almost letting out a groan when noticing that your parents are walking closer too.

“Let us speak to her.” Your mother says, right as Rafe’s car starts.

Patty opens her mouth to answer her, but she is walking in the direction of your, blacked out, window before she can even say anything. You look over at your mom, watching as she moves her hands to ask you to roll down the window. You don’t do it.

“Honey, please let me talk to you.” Your mother still says to the window, but you look away and say something to Rafe, which makes him drive away without you sharing a word.

Your mother sobs out loud as the car pulls off the driveway, and Patty looks over at Topper, who is in absolute shock at all that has happened.

What a hell of a night.

(…)

Waking up seems to have become easier after a few days in your new bed. It, obviously, doesn’t compare to your old one, but you have a sense that your body is finally getting accustomed to it. The lack of curtains, on the other hand, is what you think you'll never accept into this new home. It is absolutely ridiculous to be brought up from your slumber by what feels like a spotlight right in your face.

You stretch before bringing yourself to sit on the bed. Your hair already feels like a mess, and you haven’t even touched it. You let out a breath and bring your body up on your feet, forcing yourself into the bathroom.

You decide to take a shower and start getting yourself ready for the day, even without breakfast, which has been hard to stomach lately. You run over to the bedroom to get something quick and comfortable to put on, and decide on a dress, given that today will be hot.

When finally out of the bathroom and bedroom, you can hear voices from the TV in the kitchen. You talk in the direction of the voices and, in the room, you get Patty's attention right away. She had just been distracted by her phone while mixing something in a pan when you stepped into her field of view.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” Patty excitingly tells you, “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” You answer, leaving it short and sweet.

“Do you still love my lack of curtains?”

“Absolutely.” You give her the fakest smile ever, making her laugh out loud.

You walk over to the island, and Patty hands you a plate full of food. You thank her, and the room soon goes back to just the noise coming from the TV - some sort of podcast video Patty tends to listen to while she cooks. You don’t mind the noise. Nor do you mind Patty’s silence as she cooks. It only leaves you to think to yourself, or, better, not think at all about what truly wants to be brought forward into your mind and made into a real issue.

Everything just went down 4 days ago. It’s supposed to still be fresh and still make you want to cry your eyes out. You’re supposed to be okay with being upset about what happened. But you really can’t bring yourself to cry anymore.

“Where’s Rafe?” You ask Patty, making her look away from the pan.

“Gym, I think.” She shrugs, “Topper picked him up just an hour or two ago.”

You nod and go back to eating. Your phone sits right in front of you. You’ve made yourself block Kristy and many of the other girls by now, as your phone was becoming unusable by the number of notifications you’ve been getting. And now, your mother’s contact flashes on the screen, and you hesitate before you grab to answer it.

“Hello?” You say, as Patty turns around to notice what you’re doing. She stands still.

“Y/N.” Your mother says, “I need you to come grab your things as soon as possible. I need your room vacant by this afternoon.”

If you didn’t know your mother, this would’ve hurt more than a stake through the heart, but you know what she’s doing. She’s trying to rub at the wound, so you’ll go back home and tell her how right she was all along.

“Okay.” You tell her.

You could hear a pin drop with her following silence. You let yourself continue it for longer, getting yourself a mouthful of food while you’re at it. Once you swallow it, you speak again.

“I’ll make Rafe drive me there, we’ll go grab everything as soon as he’s back from the gym.”

There are a few seconds of silence.

“And when will that be?” she asks, suddenly. “I want to be out of the house when that happens.”

Dramatic.

“In-” You’re ready to say a random number, but the doorbell is heard from the front of Patty’s house, “In an hour, max.”

Patty walks out of the room to open the door for Rafe, Topper, and probably Kelce, and you take another bite from your food. Patty really does know how to cook.

“Alright.” Your mother says, dryly.

“Bye.” You say before ending the call.

The voices of the three, as you had assumed right, men fill the house all of a sudden, and you look over your shoulder to find Rafe walking into the kitchen, definitely looking for you. You smile at him and jump out of your seat. He leans down to get a kiss as soon as he’s close enough, and you continue smiling up at him.

“I need a favor.” You tell him.

(…)

You have been packing with Patty for the past hour, and you still feel like things are far from being all packed. Rafe came to be of no help at all. He helped in the first few minutes, finding much pleasure in looking through your things as you put them into bags and boxes, but now, as he says, he is bored. You’ve thrown 3 pillows at his face in this entire hour. With no regrets.

He keeps lying on your naked mattress, as you had decided to take the sheets off your bed while you were packing. His phone has been asking for battery for the past minutes, and he is seemingly close to closing his eyes and going to sleep. You don’t have it in you to force him back up. At least he will be quiet.

“Do you want to take these too?” Patty asks, pointing at the things on top of your desk.

“Yes, please.” You say, seated on the ground as you forced closed a bag of clothes.

Your wardrobe is empty, except for some boxes that you have no interest in taking with you, as well as the bedside tables. Your book stands are just halfway done, and all you can think about is how you are probably taking too long, and your parents might appear sooner or later.

“At what time did your parents say they would be back?” Patty asks, and you walk to your phone.

Your phone is on your bed, just beside Rafe, who opens his eyes as soon as you step closer. You try not to trip on your way to him and, as you reach for your phone, Rafe tries to caress you. You simply smack him away.

“In thirty minutes.” The text from your mother only said that you had less than two hours to pack everything. And then leave the key on the kitchen table.

Patty sighs and starts to throw your things with less care into the bags. You can’t judge her. You two have no more time, and it’s been long enough to start losing the patience you once had when you first got here. You look down at Rafe, who is burning a hole through your skull, and he pretends to close his eyes as if he’s going to sleep. You grab onto the pillow that hadn’t fallen onto the bed on your previous attack and hit him square in the face. Rafe gets startled, and you embarrassingly squeal as you try to get away from him before he grabs you.

Rafe refuses to get out of bed, so you get back to work in peace. It takes Patty a few more minutes to clear out the desk and the rest of the book stand, and then she announces that she needs to go to the bathroom really quickly. Right as the door closes, you grab the plastic hangar closest to you and throw it at Rafe.

“Why are you throwing things at me?” Rafe, with his male audacity, asks.

“Because you aren’t moving a single muscle, that’s why.” You tell him, sincerely. “Help me out. We’re almost done, anyway.”

He huffs out a breath with his dramatics and gets back up. You hand him the hangars, and he starts putting them down on the box as you collect them from the ground.

Right as you’re holding the box together so that Rafe can tape it closed, a sound interrupts your peace. It isn’t Patty getting out of the bathroom, or a notification on your phone. Nope, it was a door. More specifically, the front door.

Rafe looks directly at you when the door closes, and you take a breath. Everything will be fine, you tell yourself. Patty gets out of the bathroom with an expression that could only show that she, too, heard the front door. So, all of you get back to work without saying anything.

Whoever is in the house among you may not hear your voices as you work, but you three aren’t silent with packing, nor do you intend to. It’s better if they know you’re still here.

“Want me to take anything to the car, yet?” Rafe asks, hands on his hips.

“Yes, please.” You tell him, pointing at the boxes closest to the door. “Can you go with him, Patty?”

Patty nods at you, letting out a breath as if relieved from being free from the packing job, and they grab as many boxes as they can. Patty takes two boxes piled on top of each other before getting out of the room, and you help Rafe pile the second one as he already has a bag over his shoulder. A pink one too. He looks cute.

“Be right back.” He says before leaving the room.

You turn back to face the boxes and decide to finish up the tape first. At least, whenever they get back up here, they’ll be able to take more boxes and free up some space in the room. You grab Rafe’s phone to check the time, and you supposedly have 20 more minutes. Whoever just got home, got here early.

You kick the least fragile box of clothes closer to the door for easier grabbing and go back to the hangers, taping the box shut and kicking it away. You look around the room and start taking down your posters and whatever else is left on the walls.

Due to your complete concentration, you fail to realize that Rafe and Patty have come back to grab more boxes, and that, after they’re gone, someone now stands by your door. They wait for you to notice them, but with the back and forth of taking things down and shoving them into bags, you don’t even realize you’re being watched.

At some point, you zip up the small backpack and notice someone at the door. Naively, you assume it’s Rafe as he’s usually the fastest to come back for boxes, and Patty had just left, so you speak to him.

“Babe, could you just-” But it’s not Rafe. When you turn your head to hand Rafe the bag you want him to take down to the car, you find your mother instead. “Oh, hi.”

She doesn’t talk, at first. You watch as she takes in the room, absent of nearly all your belongings and having lost all the personality it once had.

“We’re almost done packing.” You clear up, “We’ll be done in like… 5-ish minutes.”

She still doesn’t say anything, but she steps into the room. Your eyes follow her as she moves, and then she simply takes a seat on your bed. Your naked bed. She notices the lack of clothing and runs her hands over it.

“I put the sheets in the hamper,” You try to get her to talk again. “Thought it would be easier for you to clean it after.”

Out of ideas on how to break your mother’s silence, you decide to continue your packing, letting her decide when she’d like to talk. You finish up quickly, and soon Rafe shows up at the door again. He opens his mouth to talk, but immediately shuts it when he notices your mom sitting on your bed. His widened eyes find you, making you the one to break the silence.

“Can you take these,” You point to the last boxes, “and these?” You hold two small bags in your hands.

Rafe doesn’t verbally answer. He just grabs everything and gives you a look before disappearing again. It was a look of caution, almost as if you are near some predator that is ready to bite you. You ignore it and take in the finally empty room.

You don’t let your eyes sting with tears. Not even when you think of how you slept most of your nights in this room. This was where you had the best sleepovers and late nights with friends. Gosh, even with Rafe. And now, it lies naked and cold. Something that makes you understand your mother’s sudden silence a bit too well.

You knew her bite over the phone was a fallacy. Her mask following arguments is always the same. Cold. Stoic. But they always crumble, and she’s always the first to apologize. Though you don’t think today will be it.

“I don’t agree with what your father did to you,” the slap, she means.

You don’t say anything.

“Nor what he called you.”

She lifts her eyes from the empty bed, finally, to you.

“But I want you to understand that we had worries before having any anger towards you.” She admits, with her voice low. “We don’t know Rafe. Nor do I think we wish to… Nor do we know his family all that well… But you need to understand that we were terrified when we first heard it.”

“I understand.”

Her silence makes you want to elaborate.

“I don’t agree with what happened. Nor do I believe I will forgive either of you.” You notice a flash of anger behind her eyes for a second, but it disappears quickly. “But I understand why you’d be scared. That’s why I wanted to be the one to tell you, and the one to ease you into it.” You let silence consume the room yet again before finishing with, “You don’t know Rafe. It’s fair that you’d be scared.”

“So, he isn’t what we’ve heard?” She challenges, though in a calm voice, almost sounding curious.

You hesitate to answer her, but then you remember. Your situation cannot get any worse, can it?

“He does drink, and he does party a lot.” You nod at her, and she’s focused on your every word. “I’ve seen him do drugs, too.” You admit, with little hesitation. “He has never coerced me into doing or drinking anything. And I don’t think I’ve ever really seen him actually drunk or high. Just…” You try to find a word, “dazed, I guess.”

The silence that follows is deafening, so you continue.

“I drink too, at parties.” You admit, “When I drink, he never drinks. And he always makes sure to drive me home, his or mine, and make sure I drink water before I go to sleep.” Your words surprise her, and she doesn't even hide it, so you continue. “He has fought a single person in front of me. Aiden, to be exact. And we got into a fight. And Rafe never fought again. Just like he promised.”

Your mother looks away to hide her surprise, which she is able to do by returning to her stoic and silent expression.

“He’s caring, and playful, and nice.” You keep going, “When he likes you.” You clarify with a short smile, which is evident in your tone. “And we didn’t start dating in the most romantic way possible. Nor did we go on a bunch of dates… we just… got together and enjoyed each other’s company too much to just… stop.”

You move towards the door, initiating your exit, but her eyes find you again.

“He loves me, Mom. He really does. He makes me feel safe and taken care of.” You admit with complete sincerity, “Since that fight after Aiden, he has never, ever, made me doubt him.”

She listens to you, and you can tell that she doesn’t believe you fully. But, in the very least, you’re happy that she is listening. This had been the speech that you had intended to tell her, calmly, if things had gone your way. You would’ve eased Rafe into her life, not forced him all in one go, like Kristy has done. Maybe you'd mention how he is when you tutor Wheezie, and how he helps you out so much with drives from his place to yours. Then, slowly, you would mention how he isn’t all that bad. Not anymore, at least. How nice he is to his sisters. How much of a clown he is with his friends. How gentle he is with you.

Rafe is someone you’ve grown out of a crush and have begun to love with your whole heart. You’d want your parents to love him, too.

“Where are you staying?” Your mother asks.

“Patricia’s house.” You explain, then prefer to actually say the location of the house on the island, and provide more specifics, “She has a vacant room. So, I’ll probably stay there until college.”

It will be less than three months of summer. You’ll be off the island before you even get used to your new house.

Your mother sighs while looking away, and you watch her in silence.

“I don’t feel ready to talk about the other night, yet.” Her eyes meet yours again, “As your mother, I know that I should. But a lot happened, and it doesn’t feel right yet to talk to you about it.”

“I agree.” You nod.

“Just…” She hesitates, “Know that your dad is regretful. He really is.” Your face must have shown your surprise, because she adds again, “He should’ve never done what he did. I made sure he knew that, too.”

You aren’t sure what to say, but you know this conversation is coming to a close.

“And… while we don’t get this over with,” she waves her hand between yourselves to symbolize your argument, “Just promise me…” Your eyes sting at her sudden tone of voice. It's soft. “Promise me that you’ll be safe.”

“I promise.” You say right away. “I promise, whole heartedly.”

“Good.” She nods before her eyes hit the floor again.

Silence comes back to haunt both of you, so you decide that it is time to leave. You don’t reach for her, even when your heart begs you to. You have always been close to your mom, and knowing that she has come to her senses… It makes you hopeful again.

“I’ll be going, then.” You announce, and she nods without looking at you.

And, with that, you go and, with a quick reach into your pocket, leave the house keys with her.

A/n.: Feel free to send me asks about literally anything: my plans regarding the following chapters (spoiler free, of course), where the hell i've been, etc. I've missed y'all <33333

[mon-nympht]

pairing ; boxer!rafe x ditzy!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ porn with little to no plot, praise kink, dirty talk, age difference, slight breath play, mentions of boxing, fem terms used, aftercare at the end.

NOTES ⭑.ᐟ once again, you’re responsible for the content you consume, read at your own risk.

WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ 1.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ hello!! likes, reblogs, & requests are appreciated and encouraged. thank u for the love 🐆

rafe was a force in the boxing world. with his gruff voice, buzzed blonde hair, thick biceps, bulging veins and that sharp jawline— he was impossible not to fall for.

you’d shown up to one of his matches, your eyes gleaming everytime he swung on his opponent, that hazy look returning to your face when his veins bulged. with your short denim skirt, cropped t-shirt, and high heels— he found it hard not to pounce on you.

he’d see you at almost seven more matches after that, your outfits getting skimpier time and time again, your eyes catching his more often than not.

he hunted you down after the match, sweet talking you till you agreed to go out with him, a grin on his lips as he listened to the click, click! of your nails as you typed in your phone number.

that was almost a year ago, time passing by quickly the longer you were together. matches got longer and your skirts got shorter, his possessive attitude growing stronger and stronger by the day.

you basically lived with him at this point— having a drawer in his dresser with your clothes in it, a section in his bathroom that held your toiletries and your makeup bag, a side of the pantry filled with your favorite snacks, as well as your own spot in his bed.

he’d had a little over a week off from matches, spending all of his free time in bed with you— high or not. today, you had been draped over his lap, trying to work yourself out of his hold, little hazy giggles leaving your lips everytime he tightened his grip.

which is how you ended up here— with your face wedged between his chest and his forearm, your hips in a tight hold, gruff moans and your lazy mewls filling the bedroom.

“take it, baby,” he groaned, his forearm tightening around your neck, “take it like i know you can.”

your pussy clenched around him, a choked moan leaving your lips as you scratched at his arm, your lipstick smudged from his kisses. “m’takin’ it— m’takin’ it!” you whined, your cheek smushed against his tan skin.

his forearm squeezed again, not enough to cut off your oxygen but enough to make you feel it, enough to make the heat in your lower belly burn hotter than before. “yeahhhh, fuckin’ look at you, baby, ditzy as hell on my dick, huh?”

he pulled you back against his chest, watching the way your eyes rolled back into your skull, the bounce of your tits from the roughness of his thrusts, the whines that spilled from your plump lips. his pace picked up more, a ringed hand snaking down your torso, calloused fingertips rubbing your clit in messy circles.

“c’mon, baby,” he groaned, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “you were so mouthy earlier, thinking you could fight me, what happened to that, baby? too cock-drunk to think, huh?”

your moans grew louder, thighs squeezing around the fingers between your legs, squirming against his chest. “rafe— rafe, please, s’too much.” you whined, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, a muffled moan falling from your lips.

he hummed roughly, pulling you closer against him, his fingers working faster against your clit. “nah, baby, s’not too much. my tough girl can take it, yeah? can cum for me like a good girl, huh?”

he felt you clench around his dick, a groan leaving his lips, tucking his face into your neck as he worked you faster. “c’mon, baby, give it to me. make me proud.”

that’s all it took to push you over the edge. a hot, white flash rushed through your body, a loud mewl falling against his forearm, your pussy creaking around his dick. he groaned at the feeling, spilling into you with a longer groan this time, his fingers slowing against your clit.

he exhaled slowly, feeling your body slump against him, a roughened chuckle leaving his lips. “y’good, baby?”

his voice was softer now, his touch gentle against your skin, holding you up against him as your thighs wobbled, holding back a grin at the hazy look in your eyes. “m’okay..”

he huffed out a chuckle against your neck, his arms lacing your torso as he mumbled quietly. “nah, baby, don’t fall asleep on me— still gotta clean you up, baby. make sure you’re nice and clean.”

you let out a grumble as his arms slid under your legs, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom, your face tucked away against his neck. “love you.”

he hummed quietly, pressing a light kiss to your neck. “love you more, beautiful.”

© bardotfawn . copying or plagiarizing my work is not permitted.

[mon-nympht]

free use

cw. cnc, established relationship, free use, going at it CONSTANTLY, p/v, breeding, corruption kink, unprotected sex

synopsis. since discussing the idea of both of you being willing to fuck whenever, your husband has not let up off you.

masterlist

"we should try something fun."

your husband lifts his gaze slowly from the newspaper he was reading.

"fun?" he indulges you, tilting his head slightly to search your face. you suggested something without a description intentionally to make him ask for an elaboration, meaning what you're about to tell him will either be very intriguing, or the complete opposite. he searches your features in an attempt to determine which it'll be. "what kind of fun?"

you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."

the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?

"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."

you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."

he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.

"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"

you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."

he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"

your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."

"mm. no other reason?"

you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."

"exciting... how?"

you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."

"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."

you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."

he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"

you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."

he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.

"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.

you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."

he smiles. "you really don't."

the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.

your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.

he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.

"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.

you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.

"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"

you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.

he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.

he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."

"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.

you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"

he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.

your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.

"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."

you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.

your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.

"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."

you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.

he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.

"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.

he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.

"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."

you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."

he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."

it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.

there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.

he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"

he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.

next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.

"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.

he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.

"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.

you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.

his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.

you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.

"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.

you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.

he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."

you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.

he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"

you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.

you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.

you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "

"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."

your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.

he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.

"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.

you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."

you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.

"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.

"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."

"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"

"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.

" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.

his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.

within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.

[mon-nympht]

RAFE FUCKING YOU IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR WHILE HE’S GOT YOU IN A HEADLOCK… ㅤ♡ྀི

a breathy giggle slips past your parted lips as rafe tightens his arm around your neck, moving his head closer to yours so he can grunt against your ear. “ah fuuck.. you like that shit, don’t you?” he laughs, letting go of your hip to wrap his other arm around your waist, holding you flush against his chest, fucking in and out of your warm walls.

“m–mngh.. feels s–so good!” you whine, eyeing him through the mirror as he moves behind you. your palms rest on the flat surface of the dresser, desperate to hold on to anything. rafe’s face was just as flushed as yours, forehead glistening with sweat, his teeth clenched. “jesus, baby,” he groans, closing his eyes momentarily when your cunt tightens around him. “mmh yeah.. rub that lil’ clit for me.”

his eyes flicker to where you’re furiously rubbing at your sensitive little nub to your face, hungrily taking it all in. “wanna cum!” you desperately cry out. “uh huh? wanna cum all over this dick? yeah, yeah.. c’mon. give it to me.” he lets out a guttural groan, picking up the speed of his thrusts. the sound of your mewls grow louder as he repeatedly hits that one spot that practically has you going cross–eyed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

when the coil in your belly finally snaps, you let your head loll sideways, resting your flushed cheek against his bicep, soft whimpers falling from your lips. rafe’s movements slow down behind you as he spills inside of you, quietly groaning. “good girl..” he pants, pressing little kisses to the top of your head. “did so good for me. my pretty girl.”

[mon-nympht]

little blurb about bf!Rafe Cameron and his biceps. mdni!

warnings: smut, degrading, rafe’s massive biceps.

You just couldn’t help staring at his biceps.

The veins that would pop out when he brought the red solo cup to his lips. Taking a drink as he continued to chat to his friends. You think you’re just slyly looking. That he had no idea the way you’re rubbing your thighs together and adjusting in your seat.

Oh but he knew.

He could see the way you’re squirming as your friends chatted to you. You weren’t listening to a single thing she was saying. Just words rambling out of her mouth.

“You like these biceps pretty girl?” Rafe says as he’s got you in a headlock, pounding into you as he smirks. He’s worked hard on these muscles in the gym. So of course his girl taking a liking to them makes him proud. His ego boosting more and more everyday.

You nod quickly, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as his thrusts pick up. You needed this. After all that flexing he did. He owes you this.

“I should’ve known. Got me to do that fucking tiktok with the bow and shit. Got you off, huh?” He says into your ear as he keeps smirking. He’s loving this, loving having you like this all over a bicep. So with the nod of your head he lets out a little scoff, followed by a chuckle. “Fucking slut knew you did.”

wrote this cause I need him to choke me with them. thanks.

[mon-nympht]

Hold Me Down

Rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summary: Rafe overstimulates you for the first time. That’s it.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v, creampie, squirting, choking, headlock, Rafe is mean as always, mean!dom rafe if you squint, porn without plot

WC: 2k

A/N: I HAVE RETURNED🗣️🗣️ I really missed rafe. I have a couple requests and some works in the making but they’re plot heavy so they’re taking me a while, in the mean time here’s this to satiate my horniness (and yours)

Tagging my rafe babes @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride

You really should have known better. Perhaps your most perverted fantasies should have stayed, just that--fantasies. Because in practice? Not quite as practical. Especially not with the boyfriend you had. You knew Rafe was holding back for your sake, you had only been dating a month, afterall. But the freak in you wanted more, you wanted him to take you and use you in any way he desired. He wanted to ruin you. And boy, were you in for a fucking ride. The look of pure malice and excitement in Rafe’s eyes should have been your warning, but your insatiable need for him was stronger than your judgment.

“Ah—! Rafe!” You were a fucking mess, eyeliner and mascara stained your cheeks, your pretty lipstick was long gone, tears of pleasure stained your pretty face as you writhed on Rafe’s bed. His tongue was going to be the end of you. He had already made you come once and you were so close to your second. You were already crying and pleading with him to let you take a break. He ignored you, his eyes shooting you a glare as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. And you couldn’t go anywhere, not with the way he was holding down your thighs on the mattress. “Please!”

You didn’t know what you were begging for. Mercy? Sweet release? Maybe both? You were absolutely delirious, incoherent, all you could focus on was the delicious drag of his tongue as he rubbed circles on your clit with his thumb. It was so overwhelming, how he wouldn’t let up. Rafe all but made out with your pussy, moaning and groaning at the intoxicating taste of you. He loved the idea of making you delirious, making you beg on the verge of tears, it made him incredibly hard. 

With a handful of your ass, Rafe used his tight grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue slipping in and out of your hole in a way that had you seeing white. Rafe knew you were done for when you tried to drag yourself up the bed, away from his demanding mouth, your back lifting off the mattress as you turned into a sobbing mess. 

You whined as you weakly grabbed at his grown out hair and attempted to pull him off you. Rafe didn’t care if you couldn’t take it, this is what you asked for. He dragged his tongue over your swollen clit and you nearly screamed. 

“Rafe please. I mean it.” You choked out, digging your nails into his scalp. The burning sensation of your nails only riled him up more. He was determined to fuck you until you cried. And he hadn't done that quite yet.

“What? What are you crying about?” He mocked you with a laugh as he half-assed wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled up your body, propping himself up on one of his forearms. The sight of you so desperate and pathetic when he hadn't even fucked you made his cock twitch. “You asked for it, did you not? You wanted to act like a whore, now you can get fucked like one, hm?” 

He grabbed your jaw and forced your head up to meet his eager mouth. The taste of you still on his tongue made you moan against his lips. His mouth was so demanding, the kiss messy and sloppy, like him. When he pulled back, he grabbed your legs and folded them until your knees were touching your chest and your dripping cunt was on full display for him. He prided himself on his work, the way he left you so wet and ready for him, it rushed blood to his face and bumped adrenaline through his veins. You didn’t protest, and simply braced for what was about to come your way. 

The stinging feeling of his cock was always such an indescribable feeling. He always sank so deep, it made you dizzy. Rafe didn’t waste any time, he drilled into you like he didn't care about the integrity of your body. You slid up and down the mattress with each drag of his cock, and to say that you were a sobbing mess was an understatement. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty like this.” His lips were parted, his baby blues swallowing you whole as he watched your eyes roll into your head. He breathed out a laugh, leaning down to grip the headboard, nearly folding you in half. As if he wasn’t deep enough. The way you cried at the feeling of his cock stretching you like this made him delirious. “Look at you, taking my dick like it was made for you.”

He planted his other hand beside your head, groaning in delight at the feeling of your pretty nails dragging down his back, surely to leave angry marks he would admire later. You were holding on for dear life, unable to do anything but just take his cock as he split you open. You didn’t know what you loved more, the feeling of him damn near bruising your cervix, or the way he would do absolutely anything to have you like this.

“Please Rafe! Feels so good—Ah!” You whined as he gripped your throat. You swore you saw God right then and there. You didn’t know what this strange and tingly feeling deep inside you was. You had never felt like this before. And with him hitting places so deep inside you, you didn't even know existed, you were scared of what your body was going to do. “R-Rafe, wait. Wait please, I don’t—Oh, my—” 

Rafe squeezed your throat tighter, his cock bruising that one spot over and over until you saw white, gushing all over him. You were shaking and sobbing incoherent words Rafe couldn’t understand as your juices coated both of your thighs and dripped onto the sheets underneath you. Shocked, Rafe looked down to where his cock was slipping in and out of your dripping hole with even more ease, and he laughed in disbelief. 

“Ohh fuck, yeah. Squirt all over my cock just like that, fuck.” Rafe wasn’t one to spill himself this quickly, but that alone made him almost lose it. He grabbed your hair, forcing you to look down, though your vision was still blurry, you could clearly see it. “Look at that, doll. Look at the fuckin’ mess you made.”

You couldn’t even form a thought, let alone speak. There wasn’t a single thought in your pretty head. Shocks of electricity still coursing through your body as he never stopped fucking you, driving you to the point of overstimulation. But just like that, he grabbed your arms and flipped you on your back, leaving you breathless and empty. You gasped for breath as you planted your face on the pillow. You were praying for just five minutes to recompose yourself. But you prayers were crudely denied as Rafe grabbed a hold of your hips, unceremoniously dragging you down to meet his hips. You whined.

“No, please Rafe! I can’t!” You cried as you desperately tried to run away from him. He scoffed, reaching to grab your hair and forced you down on the bed. 

“Nah, don't give me that shit. Don’t fuckin’ run away. You wanted me to use you, right? You wanted to be my little fuck doll, hm?” He rasped into your ear, using your hair to press you down on your cheek instead so you could speak, but all you could let out was a whine. “You know what you have to say if you want it to stop.” 

He gave you the choice. You could use your safeword, and you knew he wouldn't be mad if you did. But you would be mad at yourself if you used it. You wanted him to push you to your limits, send you to a completely different universe then bring you back. You truly didn't want to stop. Not really. You simply shook your head as you lifted your ass up for him. The sound that left his chest then was damn near animalistic.

“Fuckin’ knew it. You love takin’ my cock, don’t you doll?” A low moan left the back of his throat, using your hair as leverage as he slammed back into you, wasting no time in resuming his punishing thrusts. You were sobbing into the sheets in no time, soft cries of his name being the only thing you could say.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You chanted as you took his cock like that was all you were meant to do in this world. It was bruising, and agonizing his grip, and each delicious drag. It was so overwhelming and you loved it at the same time.

You couldn't say you were shocked at the fact that eventually your entire body was flat on the bed and his chest was pressed against your back, holding you down perfectly to feel each and every one of his erratic thrusts. He held your face down by your hair, muffling your pathetic cries as he used you like you were nothing more than just an outlet for his pleasure.

“Please Rafe. It hurts.” You choked out, gasping for air when you managed to turn your head to the side. It hurt, but in the best way possible. He was just so big, you could never get used to the sting of his cock. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. Rafe heard you, barely, but he heard you, and he scoffed, forcing your head back to look at him. 

“Cry for it, then.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he threw his arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock. He damn near caged you in with his big fucking body as he fucked you to tears. Your sobs filled the room as he drilled into you, his grunts of pleasure filling your ear. “Just give me one more, c’mon doll, I know you want to gush all over my dick.” 

It took maybe two, or three more drags of his cock to have you seeing stars. It wasn’t as intense as earlier, but you were a sobbing and shaking mess nonetheless when you came all over his cock again. Tears ran down your face again and you clawed your pretty manicured nails into his arm as you damn near spasmed into his grip.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He grunted into your neck as he rutted his hips against your ass, chasing his own release. He dug his teeth into your plush skin as he held you in place, forcing you to take his harsh thrusts. “Gonna fill you up. You want it, don’t you doll?”

“Mhm! Want it so bad Rafey.” You choked out, mouth falling open in delight as he filled you up, not stopping until his come leaked out of your abused hole. 

When Rafe unwrapped his arm from you, you immediately fell face first on one of Rafe’s pillows with exhaustion. You felt him shuffling around for a minute until he flopped down next to you. You lifted your head up to find him with his eyes closed and one arm behind his head. His face was flushed red and his short strands stuck up like he had just his hand through them. Your boyfriend was actually the hottest man on earth and you didn’t care if your body fell victim to his intensity and stamina. You slowly shifted so that you were laying your head on his bicep and he happily threw his arm over your back. 

“What do you want to eat? You feeling Italian or burgers?” Rafe asked you quietly, the tips of his fingers running up and down your back softly. 

“Italian.”

“Knew it. Gonna run you a bath so you can get all prettied up for me. So I can do this all over again after dinner, ‘kay?” That sounded like a perfect Saturday night to you.

[mon-nympht]

Rafe and his choking kink!

It started by accident.

You were yelling at him—really yelling, for once. Voice high, hands flying, standing your ground. And maybe it was the fact that no one dared to raise their voice at Rafe Cameron, not in his house, not in his car.

So he snapped.

His hand flew to your throat, just to shut you up. Not hard, not even aggressive—just enough to remind you who was in control. Fingers curved around your neck. Your words cut off with a startled breath. And then…

The look in your eyes.

That soft flicker of shock. Lips parted. Breath catching. The smallest shift in your hips. He noticed everything.

You didn’t move away.

You didn’t hate it

He felt it.

That’s when he knew.

He started doing it more after that. Not during arguments—oh no, that would be predictable. Rafe liked surprise. He liked control.

You could be brushing your teeth in his bathroom, still wearing his shirt from the night before, and he’d come up behind you, arms slipping around your waist. You’d smile, expect something sweet.

Then suddenly— His forearm would snake around your neck, pulling you back into him, tight.

“Morning, princess,” he’d growl against your ear, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump under his grip. “You breathein’ okay?”

You always nodded. Always. Even when your thighs pressed together instinctively. Even when your knees threatened to buckle.

And he always chuckled, low and mean. Like he knew what you were feeling. Because he did.

At first, it was just touches.

A hand on your throat during makeout sessions. A thumb pressing under your jaw when you teased him. A casual headlock if you ever tried to walk away mid-conversation—he’d pull you back in, lips to your ear:

“Where you goin’? Hm? Thought I told you to stay.”

And God forbid you ever flirt with someone else. Or wear something tight out to a party.

“Wanna act like a brat?” he’d say, dragging you to the nearest dark corner. “I’ll remind you who you f*ckin’ belong to.”

And you’d whimper, breathless, the second his hand wrapped around your throat again—his signature grip, rough and possessive, never gentle.

You lost count of the times he put you in a headlock just to prove a point.

Like the time you told him he was “too controlling.”

“Too controlling?” he repeated, scoffing, already stalking toward you. “Say it again.”

“No—Rafe, I didn’t mean—”

Too late.

Arm around your neck, muscles flexed tight, dragging you back against his chest like you weighed nothing.

“You don’t think I own you yet?” he snarled, lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you get it? You’re mine. You breathe when I say.”

You swore your knees almost gave out again.

He used it like a drug.

Rafe needed that rush now—the sound of your breath hitching, your pupils dilating, the way your body would go completely pliant in his arms the second he applied pressure.

He’d pin you under him, both hands around your throat, and make you look him in the eye.

“Say it,” he’d demand, squeezing just a little more. “Tell me who you f*cking belong to.”

“You,” you whispered, always.

And he’d smirk, toxic and satisfied, because you meant it. You were wrapped so tight around his obsession, you couldn’t see where you ended and he began.

After one of the worst fights you ever had—

You actually tried to leave.

He caught you before you reached the gate. Didn’t yell. Didn’t beg. Just… stared.

Next thing you knew, your back was against the hood of his car, his forearm pressed across your throat, pinning you in place.

“You think you can leave me?” he hissed, eyes wild. “Nah. You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

You whimpered, legs trapped between his. You couldn’t even fight. Didn’t want to.

His other hand slid down your body, possessive, rough. “You want space?” he mocked. “I’ll give you six feet under before I let you walk out.”

And still… you melted for him.

Because no one ever wanted you this much.

No one ever claimed you like Rafe did.

Aftercare with Rafe wasn’t exactly what you imagined

It wasn’t soft.

It was Rafe’s version: forceful cuddling. Trapping you in his bed with his body wrapped around you, refusing to let you up.

“Stop moving,” he’d mutter, eyes still dark from the high. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He’d hold your jaw, stroke your neck where his grip had been minutes earlier.

Sometimes he’d kiss the bruises. Sometimes he wouldn’t.

“You know I don’t mean to scare you,” he’d say, voice lower now. “But you need to stop makin’ me jealous. You make me insane, baby.”

You always nodded. You always forgave.

And he’d press his lips to your shoulder and mumble:

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine.”

He became addicted to the sound.

The sound of you gasping when his hand wrapped around your throat.

The helpless whimper.

The way your body sagged into him, fully surrendered. It didn’t even matter where.

His dad’s yacht? His truck? A bathroom at a party?

Didn’t matter.

He’d press your back to the wall, wrap his hand around your neck, and stare straight into your eyes with that insane glint.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll ruin you,” he’d whisper. “Right here. Don’t test me.”

And you wouldn’t. You never could.Rafe Cameron wasn’t gentle.

He wasn’t safe.

He wasn’t sane.

But when his hands were on your throat, when he whispered filth in your ear while your head spun from lack of air and too much heat—

You forgot everything else. Even yourself.

[mon-nympht]

giving rafe an ego boost

rafe steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking through to the bedroom. he glances over at you on the bed, seeing you’re distracted by your phone and then looks at himself in the mirror.

he fixes his wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes and catches a glimpse of his bicep glistening with the water droplets on his skin.

he flexes his bicep, smirking when he sees that they’ve gotten bigger since he started working out again.

he had started working out again only recently, literally only because he wanted you to look twice at him. not that you already don’t, he just wanted a little extra attention.

you pretend you don’t see him do this and make a mental note to mention how big his biceps look later on.

you were in the kitchen, making dinner when rafe comes in and sits at the island, his arms folding across his chest as he leans back and watches you.

you look up at him and smile, looking down at his arms then raising your eyebrows as if you’re shocked.

“your biceps look huge, baby…” you casually tell him, focusing your attention back on the food. his face lights up and he sits up straight.

“you think so?” he flexes them a little and looks down at them, a proud smile on his face. “i saw them earlier but i thought i was maybe just being delusional…” he murmurs thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on his arms.

“no i think they look real good…” you nod, giving him a quick wink. his head drops down and he’s a blushing mess, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face.

for the rest of the night you make sure to let him see you glancing at them. you even place a few kisses on them when he wraps his arm around you when you guys settle in bed for the night.

he actually almost lets out a giggle when he feels you kiss his arm, so happy that his woman appreciates the work that he’s secretly doing for her.

his heart skips a beat at every glance or compliment and he nearly melts when he feels your lips press against his skin.

[mon-nympht]

madelyn cline by jentioseco on instagram

[mon-nympht]

i'm so obsessed with bitchy!pouge!reader x rafe!!!! 😭❤ thank you so much for sharing your talent with us! 🫶 if your request is open, can you please write about rafe's reaction if the last fic was kinda in reverse? what if rafe or one of his friends sees reader talking to an ex and tells him about it? 🫣

call it passive or aggressive - r.c (+18)

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe warnings: smut

wrote this based on this ask and this one: "I need jealous sex with rafe x bitchy!pogue!reader please 🙏🏻"

"ur girl was talking to that dude she used to date. thought u should know."

topper added a photo too. blurry, zoomed in from across the marina, but clear enough to see you were smiling, tilting your chin in that cocky, typical way you always did when you knew you had the upper hand.

standing way too close to your ex.

jealousy flamed behind his lungs like smoke.

you hadn’t even told him you were going down to the marina today.

rafe knows that smile, how you touch your hair when you want someone to look at your mouth. it looks like the same shit you used to pull with him when you were playing in his face years ago.

by the time you get to his house later that night, barefoot, sandy, smelling like sea breeze and sunblock, rafe's pacing his room, teeth gritted, head full of you.

you barely get the door open before he starts his well-rehearsed (it's not) monologue.

“have fun today?”

“hi to you, too?”

“fuck off.”

you raise a brow in disdain at the tone he's using with you.

“okay. what the fuck up crawled up your ass tonight?”

“try to be less obvious when you’re flirting in public.”

you scoff, immediately connecting the dots.

“oh my god. that what this is about? you’re pissed because i bumped into someone i used to fuck?”

his jaw flexes again, wanting to strangle you for the reminder.

“you think this is funny?”

“no. i think it’s pathetic,” you said sweetly, lifting your chin. “be fucking serious, country club. flirting? catching up with a male friend is flirting now?”

"male friend?"

"you're pissing me off."

“so you were catching up.”

“oh my fucking god.” you drop your bag by the door and walk past him, not about to have the same fight he’s already playing out in his head. “i said two words to him.”

he turns, following after you like a good dog.

“funny. looked real fucking long for two fucking words.”

you stop, whirling around in perfect fury and pettiness. if he'd been calmer about it, you would've chosen a nicer way to phrase it, but alas.

“yeah, i talked to someone who knows what i sound like when i cum too for more than two seconds.”

he grabs you. palms against your thighs, lifting, pushing you up against the wall. he had to hold you still, or he was gonna break something.

your attitude hopefully, maybe your fucking ego.

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.

“don’t fucking remind me.”

“rafe. calm the fuck down."

“i’m mad,” he growls, “that you thought you could give him that smile. the one that’s mine. that mouth? It’s fucking mine, baby. your attitude? mine too. you think he could handle you?” he laughs bitterly, nose brushing yours. “he wouldn’t even last five seconds with your bitchy little mouth.”

“you’re so fucking dramatic, ” you breathe, despite your hips already grinding down against the hard line of him. “he said hi. that’s literally it.”

“i don’t care if he waved from a fucking boat,” rafe snaps, hand sliding under your shorts, dragging your underwear to the side. “you wanna act like you’re still available, baby? i’ll show you who you fucking belong to.”

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders when his fingers roughly work you up and down, two of them slipping in, knuckles deep, as his thumb focused on your clit determined to erase every trace of that piece of shit from your system. 

you moan so prettily for him, head falling back against the door, and then you whimper his name.

“oh, you remember it now? your actual boyfriend's name?” he bites out against your throat as he kisses it down. “that’s more like it.”

you pull his shirt hard, dragging him in closer, angling your mouth to his ear.

“i came thinking about you this morning,” you whisper, “wanted to be good for you. but you’re too busy being jealous to fucking notice.”

that’s when rafe tears your shorts down, turns you around, hands on your waist, and pushes you over to his bed, pressing his hips flush against yours with enough force to make your breath stutter like a virgin.

“good girls don’t flirt with their exes.”

"lucky for you, i'm not good."

"huh. is that right?"

“and good boys don’t have anger issues.”

“lucky for you,” he taunts, mocking you as he drags the tip of his cock through your pussy, teasing “m'not a good boy either.”

his hips move forward with no proper warning as you cry out, the stretch overwhelming in the greatest familiar way, your hands bunching in his sheets as he bottoms out in one furious thrust.

“fuck me—” you curse, arching instinctively, body already trying to take more than it could.

rafe doesn't give you a single minute to adjust.

“mine,” he growls like an animal in heat. “say it.”

“fuck you!”

he slams in harder.

a broken whine leaves your mouth traitorously.

“say it.”

“tou,” you choke, delirious, clenching around him. “you, you, you—rafe, fuck—”

each stroke is brutal, punishing, not because he's angry at you—no, this is him spiraling. trying to fuck out the image of you smiling up at someone else, the possibility of you laughing at some old inside joke with someone who had you like this.

your moans echo off the walls, high-pitched and desperate, as he drives into you from behind, hands bruising into your hips, shaping them to his liking.

“fucking mine,” he gritts out, growing more irritated by the second, hips pistoning against the backs of your thighs. “say it.”

you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes glazed and mouth open in a breathless smirk. “no—”

“say it.”

you shake your head to drive him insane, a wicked smile curving your lips, and that's when he slaps your ass so fucking hard the entire bed frame shakes along with it, and you gasp, the sting throwing you off your game.

“that’s not what i asked for.”

your breath hitches, pain and pleasure tangled together as his hand comes down again, more insistently this time, palms quickly kneading sweet circles with his thumb to soothe the burn.

“i’m yours,” you eventually concede as his hand keeps working the spot, reminding you he's got you.

“that’s right.” his hand fists in your hair, yanking you up so your spine arches for him, your ass pushing back into his hips. “you don’t fucking smile at anyone like that ever again. got it?”

“i wasn’t—” your protest melts into a moan as he fucks into you even harder, dragging a whimper from your throat. “i wasn't flirting!"

he wraps a hand around your throat from behind, to make you feel it, thumb on your jaw as he leans down over you, his mouth right next to your ear.

“you let him get a good look?” he grinds out, cock driving up into you slowly now. “you let him imagine what i get to feel every night?”

“fuck, rafe—”

“bet he’s still thinking about it. thinking about how good you sounded. but y'know what?” he licks up the shell of your ear, hips stuttering. “only i know how you sound when you break.”

“gonna cum?” you managed to pant, teasing through the fog in your head, searching for the upper hand.

he's not handing it to you this time around.

“not until you do,” he bites out, hand reaching between your legs, fingers working your clit, knowing exactly what you need—because he did.

rafe can't stop staring at your back.

how your spine dips, the arch of it, when he pulls your hair, offering yourself to him. only him. the way your skin flushes when you moan his name. the bed creaks with his thrusts, the sound of it obscene in the quiet, but rafe can't hear anything over the noise in his head.

“still think he could fuck you like this?” rafe growls, moving hard enough to shove the breath from your lungs.

you can't answer, your body tells him everything he needs to know—how it welcomes him, clenches for him, throbbs for him.

“yeah,” he muttered darkly, "didn’t fucking think so.”

he hates that someone else has seen you like this, that someone else had this view, that there was ever a time before he got to be the one to see you fall apart.

it's so fucking stupid of him.

rafe knows this is petty and irrational and fucking insane. but he's so in love with you, it makes him murderous. he doesn't want to be one of many, he's it.

his fingers get needier against your clit as he drives into you again, chasing the sound of your gasp, his personal oxygen.

you don't see it, can't see the way his face twists, how his teeth dug into his bottom lip, his eyes burning when they drop to where he's buried inside you. but god, he feels it. this ache in his chest, this need to make sure the memory of other men dissolve under what he gives you.

he leans down, voice cracking in your ear as he fucks you with everything he has.

"i hate it,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance, “knowing he ever had this. that he got to touch you. see you like this.”

your breath hitches. his cock twitches along inside you.

“hate that i didn’t get to be the first one to wreck you,” he groans, genuinely upset about it, wishing he could undo it somehow.

you whimper, voice shaky. “baby—”

“but he doesn’t know you. not like this.” he nips your shoulder, hand sliding back into your hair, pulling your head up so he can hear every word that spits out of your mouth. “he doesn’t know how you get when you’re desperate. doesn’t know how you beg for it.”

“please—”

“yeahhh, say it. go ahead,” his voice turns hoarse from all the talking he's been doing. “tell me no one else has had you like this.”

“no one,” you promise, thighs trembling. “no one, rafe. only you.”

“yeah?” his pace falters at the reassurance, losing rhythm with the stupid emotions building in his chest. 

“i p-promise.”

you're a mess for him, drool on the pillow, your voice sore from how many times you'd cried out his name. and still it isn't enough.

rafe pulls out, flips you, spreads your legs and stares for a second, breathing through the sight of you flushed and fucked out, pussy drooling for him, eyes barely open, inner thighs slick with your arousal and him.

he sinks back in with a neediest groan, holding your gaze as he bottoms out again, your walls fluttering around him, body hardly waiting to pull him even deeper. your hands eagerly fly to his hair, pulling him into a kiss as your hips lift to meet his thrusts.

he swallows your moans, your sobs, your everything, and keeps going, needing them for his own personal fuel.

rafe's so deep it feels like he's everywhere at once, in your head, in your guts, in your heart. his name is falling from your lips over and over and over again, it's the only word you remember right now.

“i love you,” he breaths, awe and pride and madness tangled in his voice. “yeah, that's it. you’re mine. fuck, you’re mine—”

you shudder underneath him, nails dragging red lines across his back as you kiss him senseless. every time, every goddamn time, kissing you feels like an explosion in his head. it burns and blooms, blowing everything else away.

your lips are swollen, slick, and trembling when he licks into your mouth, catches your moan with his tongue, and swallows it whole, relentlessly. he tilts your chin up, nose brushing yours, lips sticky with spit and curses.

“i’ll never get tired of this,” rafe rasps, fucking into you deeper, filthier now.

your hands are still fisted in his hair, dragging him until your teeth scrape his bottom lip and your tongue tangles with his. your shaky breath vibrates against his mouth, and he groans in retaliation.

“shiiiit, baby—”

he feels you clench around him, fluttering, and he pulls back to marvel at your pretty face as you come, eyes fluttering shut, mouth forming his name in broken sentences before it rips out of your throat, loud and cracked and perfect. watching you like that—his, undone, dripping, fucked out, and kissing him like he owns your soul—it undoes something in him.

you look up at him, eyes glassy, tears clinging to your lashes from how hard you came. “always you, rafe.”

rafe moans into your mouth, growing sloppy as his fingers dig into your thighs, and his cock is about to spill inside you. you're still shaking around him, your body so sensitive that you flinch with every grind of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mutters against your lips, forehead pressed to yours.

“inside,” you yank him back into the kiss, tongue lapping at his cheek, “rafe—please—inside—”

he cries out against your mouth as he comes, body jerking, cock buried into your soul as he fills you the way you like it. your body takes it like a champ, used to it by now, clenching and pulsing around him, wanting to keep it there forever, you're made for this.

and when it's over, and you're still tangled beneath him, panting against his cheek, he kisses you one more time.

“i did too much?"

your eyes close, but your lips curl into the laziest smile as you reply.

"don't underestimate me, country club."

[mon-nympht]

Piece of art!!!!

BROTHER BSF!RAFE

pairing - kelce's sister x hockey!rafe

҉　 lucky strike ┊need your confession (+18) ⋆˚┊⋆˚ read between the lines ⋆˚┊wake up in the mornin' and to your smell (+18) ⋆˚┊in the alley, in the back, in the center of this room (+18) ⋆˚ ┊⋆˚ some fights you're never gon' win, just keep your eyes off him (+18)┊⋆˚ want your two hands on me like my life needs savin' (+18)┊⋆˚ is it cool if i hold your hand?┊⋆˚ it's my right to be hellish (+18) ┊⋆gimme a blonde that's six feet two┊⋆˚pleasure's a place only we know (+18) ┊⋆˚ break my heart and start a fire (+18)

¡!blurbs¡! - the families (+18)

[mon-nympht]

SKSKSJSJSK IM SPEECHLESS HOLY FUCK

little miss perfect - r.c (+18) - the perfect dip

pairing: siren!reader x rafe. warnings: suggestive.

Rafe hasn’t slept much.

Not because of stress, or drugs, or whatever excuse he’d usually throw around when someone asked why he looked like shit.

Today, he blames the island heat or his mattress, the sound of the water heater ticking all night. But it isn’t any of that.

It’s you; the memory of your hand around him in the kitchen burned through every slow hour of the night.

Twelve hours later, Rafe’s losing his mind all over again, standing in the same kitchen with Topper and Kelce tossing empty beer bottles into the sink.

“She’s not here?” Topper asked, eyes scanning the hallway.

Rafe turns his head, eyes narrowed. 

“The fuck you care?” 

“Jesus, alright. Calm down, man.”

He hasn’t heard your door once today, no footsteps, no car.

Your purse is still on the hook by the door, your favorite cardigan is draped over the arm of the couch, the one you always wore when the AC got too cold.

Rafe hates that he keeps thinking about it, about what he heard, about what you did. How your voice sounded on the phone, or after you quite literally fucked the soul out of him.

You don’t sound like that unless you’re protecting yourself.

Topper watches Rafe now, realizing he said the wrong thing. 

“She your girl now or somethin’?”

Rafe scoffs.

“She’s not anything,” he lied.

Except you are.

You are everything he doesn’t know what to do with. Last night’s blur flashes once more behind his eyelids, that tight breath you let out when your hand wrapped around him and you leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

Topper’s still grinning.

“Chill, dude. We’re just saying she’s hot. It's a compliment, not a threat.”

Rafe tosses the beer bottle in his hand into the sink.

“You ever talk about her again, I’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth in.”

Kelce stares. Topper blinks, unsure if Rafe’s serious. He is; the last thing he needs is either of them thinking they have a shot with you.

Topper clears his throat, awkward as hell. 

“Okay, psycho,” he grimaces, trying to laugh it off.

Kelce, ever the peacemaker, grabs another beer from the fridge and hands one to Rafe without looking at him. 

“Can we go back to talking about the boat party or whatever? I didn’t sign up for a domestic.”

Rafe doesn’t answer, pops the cap, gulps half the bottle in one go, and stares straight ahead.

Topper shifts gears fast, talking about a touron girl he hooked up with last weekend—theatrical as fuck, using his hands too much, trying to prove something. Kelce is laughing again, feet kicked up on Rafe’s coffee table.

They’re back to being dumb, rich, and clueless and Rafe isn’t listening. His head’s still in the hallway.

You’re driving him insane.

He wonders if you’re sitting in bed right now with your knees pulled up, in flimsy pajamas. Topper’s still talking, something about coke on the golf course and almost crashing the cart. Rafe hears every third word, half-tempted to kick them out.

He could, they’d leave, no questions asked. He could walk straight to the bedroom door you left cracked wide enough for him to notice.

You wanted him to notice. You never left anything to chance.

He forces a lazy half-smirk as Kelce launches into a story about a girl from Boneyard who “definitely had a boyfriend but definitely didn’t care.” Topper interrupts every few seconds with unnecessary sound effects and finger guns.

It’s the same bullshit as always. Dumb, loud, harmless; a show they’ve all been running since they were kids.

“You know what we should do?” Topper slamms his empty beer bottle onto the coffee table. “Get the boat out. That bitch hasn’t touched water in a month.”

Kelce perks up. “We get some girls, bring a speaker—”

“We always bring a speaker,” Topper cuts in, laughing. “It’s not a fuckin’ seance.”

That gets a laugh out of Rafe.

“You coming or what, Cameron?” Kelce calls over to him. 

That’s when the hallway creaks.

He hears it, the scuff of skin on hardwood, you appear, timing it down to the fucking second—effortless, shirt slipping off one shoulder, eyes still half shut from sleep or boredom or both.

Topper freezes mid-sentence, one arm halfway in the air. Kelce chokes on his beer.

You give them a polite smile.

Fuck’s sake.

“Oh,” you sound taken aback, tone featherlight, “I didn’t know we had company.”

Kelce stammers, straightening up like he’s in church. 

“Hey, we—we were just hanging.”

You nod, walking to the fridge after apparating out of nowhere. Your fingers wrap around a water bottle as you turn back to them, face glowing.

“You want anything?” you ask Kelce, soft as spun sugar.

He looks like he might cry. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

You finally glance at Rafe, no expression or twitch to spare. But he sees the glint in your eye when you take a sip of water, then turn to the boys again.

“You staying long?”

Kelce starts to answer, but Rafe cuts in.

“None of your business.”

That’s what you desserve after the shit you pulled last night.

He’s not guilty, you are.

“He’s so funny,” you giggle gently, folding your hands around the bottle. “You guys talking about the boat?” you ask, as if the idea itself is delicate, sipping your water with lashes lowered.

Topper’s nodding too hard, grinning again, probably thinking this is going somewhere for him. 

“Yeah. You should come. Water’s perfect.”

Rafe’s head snaps in his direction. Oh fuck no.

“What?”

You laugh—a breath of sound. “I couldn’t possibly…”

“Why not?” Kelce jumps in too fast, “We’ll bring drinks, music, just hang.”

Your eyes flick between them, a small, self-effacing smile curling your lips. He sees the faint smirk you hide as you turn your back to them again, tugging the fridge door open just so, the hem of your sleep shirt rising an inch higher when you reach.

None of this is accidental.

You want them looking at you.

“I’d be in the way.”

Rafe nods, brows furrowed. “Exactly."

“No, you wouldn’t,” Topper insists. “Seriously. You gotta come. I mean, unless you’ve got something better to do…”

You tilt your head, pretending to ponder over the invitation.

You’re not. You already decided. If only he could lock you in this stupid house, make you look at him the way they think you want them.

Rafe watches you toy with them, smiling politely, asking too many questions, making sure your eyes never stay on one of them long enough to mean anything.

How can you be so diferente when you’re alone?

“If Rafey doesn’t mind...”

You know what that nickname does to him, how it gets under his skin like sugar in an open wound.

Topper turns to Rafe like a dog who just heard the word walk.

“Dude!” he breathes, eyes wide. 

Kelce snorts, nudging him, all in on something now.

“Bro, what the fuck? You can’t be an asshole to your guest.”

Rafe’s staring at you—at the way you lean casually against the counter, that glimmer of mock-shyness in your voice, always the plan, puppeting the whole room with one shoulder and a smile.

“How the fuck is this on me?”

Topper raises both hands, grinning. “It’s my boat. She's invited."

“She’s not coming.”

“Why not?”

Rafe grits his teeth. “She just woke up.”

“So?” Kelce grins at you. “You still down?”

“Yeah.” You step closer to Rafe, enough that they notice it. He notices it too. “Sorry,” You chagrined, “Didn’t mean to step on any boundaries.”

You did.

Yeah—this spot, right here, right where you’re standing now, it’s where you had your hand down his pants twelve hours ago.

Now you’re gloating in his face, in front of his idiot friends, letting the hem of your shirt graze his thigh like you forgot what happened.

Rafe’s vision goes a little red.

He’s going to fucking kill you. He can’t even look at Topper or Kelce right now, if he sees either of them drooling at you with those dumb, dazed expressions, he’ll black out.

He stares at your face instead, at that sickeningly sweet grin, the one he knows is fake, the one you save for him.

He breathes in hard through his nose, lifting the bottle to his lips, eyes never leaving yours, and grinds out: “Fine.”

You lean in close, pouty lips pecking his cheek.

“Thank you, Rafe,” you whisper, acting like you’re doing him a favor, “I’ll go get dressed.”

You’re gone in seconds, that sweet sway in your step. He stands there, still as stone.

“Wow,” Topper breathes, staring after you like he just saw God. “Lucky fucking bastard.”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose in pure annoyance, wishing he could physically push the rage back down. 

Kelce follows. “You’re living the dream, man.”

The dream, yeah. 

The dream is waking up hard as a rock at four in the morning with his hand wrapped around nothing, thinking about you.

He swallows the last of his beer and sets the bottle down hard.

“Gonna grab my swim trunks."

He’s already moving toward the hallway.

They barely acknowledge it—Topper’s mid-sentence again, and Kelce’s laughing too loudly. Neither of them clocks how Rafe’s jaw flexes or how his eyes are fixed ahead, like a sniper. He’s not going to get his swim trunks; he’s going to you.

If you pick one of those bikinis, the tiny black one you wear when you want his hands around your throat, the strappy green one that makes his pulse spike like a fucking heart attack, he might drown you for good.

Or kill someone else, trying not to.

He hits the bedroom door with his knuckles and doesn’t wait before cracking it wider. You’re by the closet already, fingers drifting past hangers, selecting a weapon.

Your back’s to him, but he knows that curve of your spine, the way your hips move when you know he’s watching.

“You’re not wearing any of those.”

“Any of what?”

He closes the door behind him, crossing the room in even steps. 

“You know what.”

“Oh?” you murmur, all saccharine. “I thought I had options.”

You pull a hanger from the rack. Red. Strapless barely qualifies as fabric.

His eye twitches.

You’re holding it up to your chest.

“You don’t like this one?”

Rafe’s already in front of you before you can finish the sentence, snatching the hanger from your hand and tossing it onto the bed without looking.

“You wear that in front of them,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek, “and I swear to God I’ll crash the boat.”

You blink up at him, filthy fingers sliding up his chest, testing that theory.

“They'll look at me no matter what I wear.” 

“You’re not gonna fuck with me in front of them again,” he says. “Not like that.”

“Why would it matter if I did?”

He’s still thinking about the way Topper’s mouth dropped open when you walked in, how Kelce straightened up like he’d just gotten his first fucking erection. He yearns to dump the stupid boat idea, the friends, the sun, and pounce you back onto the mattress.

He releases you and points to the drawer.

“Pick something normal.”

“Define normal.”

“If I can see your ribs, it’s a no.”

“Noted,” you hum, turning back to the closet like you haven’t already decided on something that’ll drive him mad.

Then your fingers are at the hem of your sleep shirt, lifting it like no one is watching. His pupils blow wide the second your arms lift, and you peel the fabric up and over your head in one long, unhurried motion.

Rafe stops breathing.

No bra, no warning. The shirt drops to the floor behind you.

You don’t turn around, continuing to move, opening a drawer like you’re alone. All that steel in his spine, the warnings, the threats—they dissolve into arousal in his gut.

His mouth parts slightly, and he thinks—

"Still here? Is this a thing now? Watching and doing what you’re not supposed to, Rafey?”

Nice dig.

Your bare back is lit up in the golden spill of light, smooth skin gleaming, and all he can think about is how you sounded on that call when you told your mom it wasn’t a good time. 

“I wasn’t watching,” he lies.

You straighten up, tugging on a white bikini top, letting the fabric cover what he’s already memorized. You don't turn around.

“Weren’t you?” you ask, “You’re getting good at hovering.”

He huffs, crowding behind you.

“You think I give a shit what you say on the phone?”

You glance over your shoulder, “Thought you were getting your trunks.”

Of course you change the subject. He swears, if you look at him for another second, he’s going to lose the last shred of whatever control he walked in with.

“Pick a one-piece,” he grits out.

You grin. Slow. Fucking victorious.

“Make me.”

“You’ve got five minutes,” He warns without looking back. “If you’re not in the car by then, I’ll leave without you.”

You hum.

“Sure, baby.”

He slams the door.

Back in the living room, Topper’s on his fourth beer, still talking like nothing’s happened. Kelce raises his eyebrows when Rafe storms past, shirtless now, accompanied by a god awful migraine.

“You good, bro?”

Rafe doesn’t answer, grabbing his swim trunks from the hallway closet with enough force to rattle the hanger, and slams the door shut behind him.

Thirty minutes later, Rafe glances over his shoulder when you start to peel your clothes off on the boat. Then he looks again.

Your bikini is not the one he let you pack, not the modest one. Not the one he approved, no. You changed for the millionth time.

This one’s black. Small, the strings on your hips are tied in bows he wants to rip apart. You’ve got sunglasses pushed up into your hair and a towel slung over one shoulder.

He can feel a heat prick at his collarbone and it's not a sunburn.

You walk around, pretending you don't feel his eyes drilling holes in your skin. Like you don’t know you’ve already made three guys choke on their drinks. You toss your bag near the cooler, peel your towel off, and stretch your arms like you’ve just woken up from a nap.

He storms over to you.

“What the fuck are you wearing.”

“A bikini, Rafe. That’s what people wear on boats.”

“Not that bikini.”

Your lashes flutter, feigning a thought.

“You meant the boring one?” You finally look at him. “You should’ve fucked me before we left. You wouldn’t be so tense.”

He gets a full blackout, bone-deep insanity. He steps back because he might put his hands on you if he doesn’t. You watch him with that poisonous smile as he turns away and clenches the railing hard enough to break it.

Topper walks by, wide-eyed. “The water's great man."

Rafe doesn’t answer, watching your reflection in the metal trim of the boat, the way you laugh with some girl he doesn’t recognize, how you arch your back when you sit, how the tie on your bikini hip seems to be slipping.

He ignores you like it’s his full-time job for the rest of the day.

When you laugh, he doesn’t look. When you lean over the side of the boat, stretching that stupid bikini across your back, he stares off toward the horizon like he's never had eyes.

Even when Topper elbows him with a dumb grin, looking at your ass, Rafe nods like he didn't hear a thing. He’s tired of pretending he doesn’t want to fuck you into next week every time you so much as tie your hair up, drowning the rest of his beers and pretending you don’t exist.

You glance at him once—he sees it out of the corner of his eye—but he grabs another bottle, and walks to the opposite end of the boat where the sun doesn’t hit as hard and neither do your eyes.

Topper laughs. “You’re going to jump?”

That makes him pause.

He turns just in time to see you laughing on the edge of the deck, one hand thrown up in mock celebration, the other girls cheering behind you. You glance at him and then you jump.

It's a perfect arc, clean splash. Water sprays the edge of the boat, a few people clap, some fucking idiot yells “Holy shit!”

Good, he hopes you drown. 

He stares at the choppy water with his jaw clenched so tight his molars hurt like a bich and a half, fists balled at his sides. Maybe you’ll stay down there long enough to come back with some fucking sense.

The water ripples, then stills.

You don’t come up.

Topper leans over, squinting. “Wait… where’d she go?”

Kelce laughs, a little uneasy.

“She’s probably swimming around the other side.”

You swam varsity for three years, and you used to brag about holding your breath longer than any guy could keep you interested.

Rafe's not worried.

His gaze slides back, still no sign of you, no arms slicing up, no smug-ass hair flip.

She’s fucking with me, he tells himself that twice. You have to be, you're probably under the boat. Waiting, that’s what you do.

“She’s not up yet?”

Rafe’s bottle almost slips from his fingers and clatters to the deck.

“She’s playing,” he mutters, low, tight.

Right?

But he’s already moving, shoving past the cooler, practically snarling by the time he reaches the edge again. His eyes scan every inch of blue. Still nothing. It’s been—what, a minute? More?

His stomach flips, and he dives in. Cold water slaps his skin as he hits, eyes burning, lungs tight with adrenaline. His brain blanks. 

There you are, beneath the hull, hair floating in slow motion, your back to him, arms stretched lazily, not moving. He’s on you in seconds, dragging you up with panic.

You’re limp in his grip.

He surfaces with a gasp, and that’s when you break.

You start laughing, coughing a little, sure, but mostly laughing, head tilted back, water beading down your face.

“What the fuck,” Rafe breathes, stunned, furious, blinking water from his lashes.

“I was bored. You weren’t paying attention to me.”

“I thought—” He can’t finish the sentence. He grips your waist so tight it’ll bruise. “You think this shit is funny?”

You’re smiling again, breath heaving, but smiling.

“You jumped in after me.”

“Drowning is a fucking joke to you?”

You’re giggling still, gasping wet air.

“You jumped,” you breathe, eyes bright with wicked glee.

He doesn’t hear that; his hands are locked on your waist, thumb digging too hard into your hipbone, breath ragged as he snaps.

“What if I hadn’t? Huh? What if you actually—Jesus fuck, do you ever think?”

Your arms wind around his neck like it's the most natural thing in the world, water slicking down your back as you float closer, legs looping behind his thighs.

“You do care about me,” you sing under your breath, a dare.

“I don’t!” he growls.

He’s gripping your ass now. Full palm, busy trying to burn a hole through your skull with his glare.

“I should leave you out here.”

“Okay,” you hum, lashes fluttering.

“Next time, I’ll let you sink.”

 “Liar.”

He looks down, and that’s when it hits him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, toned thighs snug at his hips, your arms hanging from his shoulders while his hands are clenching your ass like it belongs there, your breath mingling with his.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You grin. “Comfortable?” 

“Get the fuck off—” he glowers, but doesn’t move. Neither do you.

He could shove you off, throw you back, and swim away. But he’s standing there in open water with you clinging like a koala, and he’s not doing a goddamn thing about it.

You tilt your head, close enough now that your noses brush.

“I should’ve worn something smaller,” you whisper.

“I’m going to drown you.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Stop that shit."

Your lashes are clumpy from the water and pretty, and your skin is glowing. He's fairly certain the fucking stupid sun cracked open only to sit on your cheekbones.

Your lips brush closer, against the corner again.

“Why not?” Your hands are tangled in the back of his hair now, like they had been last night. “You gonna stop me?”

He doesn’t breathe or move, except for his fingers, which dig tighter into your thighs. You want him distracted; he knows it, and it’s working.

“Y’know I wasn’t actually in danger, right?” you murmur his ear, “I can hold my breath for over two minutes. Coach said I was built for underwater.”

Of course you were built to swim, to tease, to drown men like him.

Siren.

That’s what’s making him crazy. You weren’t scared, but he was. 

You hand slips up the back of his neck, brushing his hair off his nape, comforting him now, rewarding him for worrying.

“I’m serious,” he grits out, but even that sounds like a lie. “Stop looking at me like that."

“Like what?”

You’ve always been better at games than grief. His forehead drops against yours, eyes closed. He’s breathing hard—so hard—and you can feel it, right there between you.

You kiss him then.

Rafe fights it for half a second, less even, then it’s over.

He drags you in, mouth slanting over yours like he wants to leave bruises in the shape of his tongue. His teeth scrape your lip, your breath stutters, and he swallows the sound because it belongs to him.

He’s lost. 

The second your mouth parts for him, Rafe's brain goes quiet, his hands pull you flush to his chest, dragging you against him, craving to climb inside and drown right along with you.

You moan into him, and that’s it. Game over.

His tongue chases after yours, desperate, trying to punish you for making him jump—but your mouth is so sultry, and you taste like trouble, lakewater and a dare he couldn't turn down.

It’s obscene the way you grind against him underwater. He's hard—of course he is—and you’re not helping. You’re rubbing right against it, wet skin gliding with every wave that rocks you together, whimpering like it’s his fault you started this.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your mouth.

You’re still kissing him like you need to.

Rafe breaks it off, panting, his forehead pressed to yours again, eyes wild.

“See?” You purr, drunk on the high, on him, even with your lips kiss-swollen. “Good thing you jumped. Imagine Topper did.”

It lands like a slap.

His hands fall away like you burned him. You’re still clinging to him like some waterlogged siren sent to ruin him. He’s shoving you off, and you let him.

he distance is small, but it feels like a mile as the water chills between you.

Rafe’s chest is heaving, water lapping at his ribs, wanting to soothe him, but nothing can touch the heat in his blood.

It's always you. With your goddamn eyes, and that fucking mouth, and the way you say his name—a knife you want to stick in his ribs to see how deep you'd have to twist before he bled.

“You were thinking about that shit while I was kissing you?”

You tilt your head, calm as glass. He's two seconds from losing it completely, from dragging you under and letting the lake take both of you.

“Not while you were kissing me. After.”

After.

Rafe stares at you, something ugly boiling behind his eyes. His hands curl into fists under the water, wishing he had it in him to just swim the fuck away before he does something he can’t come back from. 

“I should’ve let you die.”

Your mouth twitches in satisfaction.

He surges forward without meaning to, water sloshing around his shoulders as he crowds you again, nose to nose, hate and want and heartbreak written in every jagged line of his face.

“And I should’ve twisted your dick off last night, but I didn’t.”

You go for him again—always—hands ghosting up his shoulders.

He’s afraid of what he’ll do if he keeps seeing you like this, half-naked and dripping and looking at him like he’s the only boy in the world while stabbing him straight through the heart with your words.

“You knew I’d jump after you. You were counting on it.”

You nod. “I was.”

You knew he felt guilty.

He lets go of your wrists, but you’re on him again, sliding back around his waist. Your skin fits to his like it belongs there, your fingers curling around his shoulders with practiced ease. 

Rafe’s body reacts before his brain does—he catches you, like the idiot he is. He grits his teeth as your tits press against his chest, mouth ghosting over his like you’re about to apologize.

But no, you don’t say sorry. You bite him.

Right on his lower lip, and he groans into it, head tilting back because you stole it. The sound claws its way out even though he doesn't want to give it to you.

You make out with him in answer.

He shouldn’t let you. He knows it once his hands get on your rack, knows it when your tongue slips past his lips again, and he doesn’t stop you like the dumb broad he is.

You hum, pleased while he’s melting into it, mirroring your rhythm, kissing you as the fool who doesn’t remember what came out of your mouth.

He breaks it off to breathe, and a second later, you swim off. Your laugh carries over the water as you paddle toward the boat, lazy, unbothered, the picture of summer mischief.

Rafe stays frozen in place for a moment, water up to his chest, mouth still stinging from your bite. His heart’s pounding. Thudding so loud it echoes in his ears over the sound of the lake

What the fuck just happened?

By the time he climbs back onto the boat, seething and horny, you’re already flopped back in your spot like a satisfied cat, sunglasses on, mouth smug.

He yanks a towel off the bench, scrubbing at his face praying it’ll erase the past five minutes, scrubbing you out of his system. 

You peek at him over the rim of your glasses, your expression all mockery, and know it when he still wants to go back in the water with you, drown himself again.

He always should’ve known better with you.

[mon-nympht]

SHARP AND SOFT

frat!rafe x reader

WARNINGS: 18+ content, drug-enhanced sex, degradation kink (e.g., calling reader dumb, objectifying praise) dubcon-adjacent themes (reader mentally "drifting" during sex, though physically willing) face slapping (light impact play) overstimulated!reader, possessiveness / ownership kink, semi-restraint, slapping / spanking, power imbalance / controlling behavior, marking / mild pain kink

Rafe’s got your face buried in the pillow, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other digs into your hip, yanking you back to meet his ruthless thrusts. The cocaine’s got him wired—eyes wild, breaths punching out in harsh pants as he watches your ass bounce with every smack of his hips against yours. Your whines are loud, even muffled by the fabric, spilling out in a messy string of whimpers and moans that he fucking lives for. Your greedy cunt clenches around him, sucking him in deep, and he groans, low and guttural, loving the way you take every inch like you were made for it.

But then he feels it—you’re starting to drift, getting all dumb and hazy in your head, your body still responding but your mind slipping somewhere he can’t reach. He slows just a fraction, smirking as he lets go of your wrists to grab your jaw, pulling your head up from the pillow. “Hey, nah—look at me,” he growls, voice rough but edged with something almost tender. Your eyes flutter, half-lidded and glassy, and he gives your cheek a soft slap—not hard, just enough to snap you back. The little jolt makes you gasp, lips parting, and he chuckles darkly. “There you go. Stay with me, princess.”

Another soft smack lands on your cheek, his fingers lingering there to brush over the flushed skin as he picks up the pace again, slamming into you with that same furious rhythm. “Can’t have you checkin’ out on me,” he mutters, watching the way your ass ripples and your back arches, sweat-slicked hair clinging to your spine. “Not when you look this fuckin’ good takin’ it.” He slaps your cheek again, lighter this time, and the way your eyes sharpen, locking onto his, sends a thrill down his spine.

Your skin’s a deep, rosy red now—from the harsh spanks he’d landed on your ass earlier, from the heat of him pounding into you—and he loves it, loves how you’re all marked up and squirming beneath him. He leans down, teeth grazing your ear as he rasps, “Gonna keep you right here, screamin’ for me. Next time, too—fuck, you’re mine.” His hips snap forward harder, chasing that edge for both of you, and all you can do is whimper his name as he keeps you grounded with those sharp, soft slaps whenever you start to slip.

[mon-nympht]

Peace of fucking art!

please do not read my content if you’re under 18.

masterlist

» series

ᝰ ESCAPISM – arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

beginning . ii

ᝰ THE POWER PLAY – fake dating, grumpy/sunshine

beginning . ii . iii . iv . v . vi . vii . end

ᝰ HOME BEFORE DARK – childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating

beginning . ii . iii . iv . v . vi . vii . end

ᝰ WATCH AND LEARN – sex first/feelings later, love triangle

beginning . ii . iii . iv . v . vi . vii . viii . ix . end . alt end

ᝰ BETTER OFF – exes to lovers, toxic relationship

beginning . ii . end . alt end

ᝰ OUT OF BOUNDS – forbidden love

beginning . ii . iii . iv . v . vi . end

ᝰ THE ACT OF UNRAVELLING – partners in crime, secret relationship

beginning . ii . iii . iv . end

» one-shots

FIRST PRIZE DESIRE • WISH YOU’D ASK ME • JUST ONE TIME • SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY • IMPERFECT STRANGERS • HARD TO IGNORE • PUSH AND PULL • BITTERSWEET • LOOKING TO SCORE

» blurbs

» headcanons

» drabbles

[mon-nympht]

Amazing amazing amaaazinggg series

the power play ✐ au

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

based on the series “the power play”

legend ⊗ smut — ❥ fluff — × angst

˚　꩜ ︴her freshman year 　

࿐ their first time ⊗ ❥

࿐ he learns about her wild side ⊗

࿐ he goes down on her while she reads ⊗

˚　꩜ ︴first summer together 　

࿐ they have phone sex ⊗ ❥

࿐ she calls out his moodiness ×

࿐ she meets his family and friends ❥

࿐ she surprises him with an unplanned visit ⊗ ❥

˚　꩜ ︴her sophomore year 　

࿐ they reunite after a summer of long distance (requested - coming soon)

࿐ she struggles with communicating her needs ×

࿐ he cheers her on (requested - coming soon)

࿐ their first serious fight (requested - coming soon)

˚　꩜ ︴after she graduates 　

࿐ they move in together (requested - coming soon)