simpforboys

[simpforboys]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚔

𝓓𝓘𝓛𝓕!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓜𝓘𝓛𝓕!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

+18 -> every mom in the building is lined up to get your husband wet in the dunk tank. Rafe’s completely oblivious but you’re not, and you’re more than ready to remind him who he belongs to.

c/w: possessive!reader, switch!reader x switch!rafe, fingering, marking, rough closet sex, praise kink, pet names + language

2.9K

“Hi, Rafe!” The greeting comes out high-pitched and weirdly performative—like the tone of someone who’s experiencing the highlight of her day. You open the window of your classroom a little more, taking in it all.

Down in the parking lot, Rafe steps out of his truck, one arm full of carnival supplies, thick muscles shifting under his black tee; his pressed polo pants hugging him in all the right ways.

Max is right behind him carrying a second box with a look in his eyes like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. Winnie’s already walking ahead holding a treasure trove of cheap prizes, the three headed toward your room.

And just like clockwork… the welcome committee—almost impossible to miss.

Three of the school moms are already beelining toward them, all smiles and swishy hair, their tone way too cheerful.

“Oh, Rafe, would you mind grabbing something out of my trunk real quick? It’s just so heavy!”

“Thank god you’re here. We could use the extra muscle. I don’t know how we’d pull this off without you.”

“Rafe, are you still coaching baseball this summer? Because we were thinking of signing Easton up.”

You watch one of them touch his arm and your jaw tightens, the anger in you making your chest tighten.

Rafe just nods, helping them along, moving along quickly. He says something back; kind and harmless, completely unaware that every woman in a fifty-foot radius is gawking.

You roll out the tension in your neck, reminding yourself of the position you’re in. You’re a teacher. A professional. There are still students in the building. There are still rules.

You slide the window shut, but you’re still annoyed.

You walk toward the door, ready to greet them. Winnie’s in the lead, eyes narrowed, clearly over the little detours they took to help desperate housewives on the way.

Max throws his head back in frustration as they’re stopped yet again by yet another parent… Paisley Remington.

She’s dressed like she just left the tennis courts; an absolutely stunning woman who’s ugly in every other way. She says something that makes Rafe smile and nod—showing her pity she’d never pick up on because she doesn’t know him… She thinks this is working? Please.

You roll your eyes and suck your teeth, exchanging annoyed looks with your teens. You’re about to respond when Rafe catches sight of you and grins like nothing’s going on. Like he hasn’t just been followed through the parking lot and halfway down the hallway by a rotating cast of women whose feminism leaves their bodies the second they catch sight of Rafe.

“Hey, baby,” he calls, leaving Paisley the moment he sees you. “Where do you want this?” He lifts the box, making his biceps flex a little more.

Paisley's face twists in annoyance as he shuffles toward you, smiling down at you like you’re the only woman he sees, because to him, you are.

ᯓ★

You’ve been at school from sunrise to sunset, organizing and setting things up, watching the carnival rides rise around you.

“Mommy,” you hear the twins squeal in unison. You look over your shoulders watching them race toward you; Rafe, following just behind them in a white t-shirt, a backwards Atlantic Shores Academy hat, and a pair of faded blue jeans.

His School Helper tag rests proudly over his heart—Mrs. Cameron’s Husband—detailed in his chicken-scratch handwriting and you can’t help but smile.

And just as you do, the grin falters because without fail, three moms from the PTA round the corner, by some kind of crazy coincidence.

“Rafe! Hello, Rafe. Can you come by the lemonade stand when you get a chance? I think I made it too sweet.”

“Are you working the dunk tank? Hopefully you won’t get too wet.”

“Did you do all the heavy lifting already? You must be so sore.”

Rafe spots you immediately, and exhales deeply the breath he was holding tight. “There she is,” he says, almost relieved.

A mom walks past the two of you, giving Rafe the up-and-down and a sweet smile before turning her attention to you. “You’re so lucky,” she says to you, smiling just a little too wide. “He’s such a hands-on dad.”

“He really is. And such a loyal husband, too,” your words have a little more bite than you intended but honestly, it gets to a point.

Winnie walks between you and the other women, making a conscious effort to shoulder-check her, giving her a half-ass apology that has you biting back a smile and a laugh.

“They’re literally embarrassing,” Winnie grumbles to you, just loud enough for the other woman to hear. Max chuckles and drops his head, letting a box fall heavily to the ground with a deep, tired breath.

Rafe walks up to you, still none the wiser, tucking you into his arms before pressing a tender kiss on your lips.

He looks down at you as you look up at him, and god help these women if one of them flirts or touches him again.

ᯓ★

The dunk tank’s set up at the far end of the gymnasium, lost in a sea of carnival games. Music swells through the speakers as darts whizz by you, thudding against the bullseye; catching a balloon here and there.

The line is long. A crowd of eager women stand in a row, ogling as they look over and around each other; waiting impatiently like they’re trying to get through the velvet ropes of Figure Eight’s hottest nightclub.

Rafe’s sat on the bench inside the tank with elbows resting on his knees, white t-shirt now clinging to his chest. He’s already soaked clean-through. His hair’s wet, hanging loosely on his forehead before he pushes it back.

You roll your eyes as you clock ten moms who couldn’t possibly help with the event, clutching tickets in hand as they wait impatiently for their time and their moment in the spotlight.

And Paisley? She’s already waiting with a second ticket in hand.

You fold your arms, trying not to scowl as one of your student’s moms steps up to the front of the line, fanning herself off with her dunk tickets. “You sure you’re ready for this, Rafe?”

Rafe… You hold your tongue as she addresses him on a firstname basis like she means a thing to him. Looking at him like he isn’t yours.

“Hopin’ your arm is as bad as the last one, Mrs. Davis,” he answers simply—not a sliver of flirting in his voice.

Pop! The seat drops out below him and he plunges into the water. His body fills the little pool window below where he sat.

Rafe’s shirt lifts up to his chest and a sea of gasps and giggles follow. Tanned skin, cut abs, v-lines etched on his toned stomach disappearing under the waistband of his boxers, peeking out of his jeans brings a buzz of gossip like a swarm of bees to a flower.

“I swear he’s doing it on purpose.”

“If I were his wife I’d never let him leave the house in that shirt.”

“I just adore a man who volunteers.”

The water sloshes over the edge as he hauls himself back onto the bench, soaked and dripping, t-shirt transparent, just painted on at this point and that’s when you decide he needs a break—now.

“Max. Win, you’re up,” you say, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Before I lose my mind… Or my job,” you mutter under your breath and your son chuckles knowingly.

It’s like flipping a switch, poof… moms disappear. In their place? Teenage girls. Sisters of the elementary school kids. A string of Middle School and High School girls, giggling and whispering, twisting strands of hair around their fingers while Max sits in the tank already living for their attention.

You grab a towel for Rafe as he shakes his hair out like a wet dog, big body dripping with wet. He wrings out his shirt, smile widening the closer he gets.

“Didn’t think I’d get dunked so much. Holy shit,” he laughs breathlessly.

“Mhmm…” You hum, teetering on the edge of something you might regret. You grab his hand and smile, saving face, leading your husband away from the hoard to the privacy of the dim hallway, away from it all. You draw a wavering breath, finally feeling your heart start to slow—

“Rafe,” Paisley breathes, all breathless urgency. “Would you mind helping me carry this to my car? I’ve been killin’ myself on the golf course lately. My shoulders just—”

“No,” you cut in, too fast and far too sharp. “He’s busy. Call your husband.” She startles a little.

You don’t answer right away. Just stare her down with a smile that’s this close to a snarl.

Paisley blinks back at you a few times, before turning her attention to Rafe with one last hopeful look.

“Call… your… husband…” You say, slow and demeaning, the tone of your voice deadly, making Rafe's head turn toward you out of the corner of your eyes. “Also, this area is for teachers only, and their husbands of course. Keep an eye out for those signs on the doors, Pais. I’d hate for you to get kicked off the PTA.”

Rafe's eyes widen on you; his brain still trying to catch up to the first shot fired the moment ‘no’ left your lips. You tug him forward and he follows you close, face painted in all types of confusion. “Hey, honey. Uhh… Am I missin’ something here?”

“Just tired of watching women pretend you’re not wearing a wedding ring,” you mumble as you power walk down the hallway; Rafe’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“I didn’t even—”

“I know,” you sigh, softer this time. “I know, baby.”

You reach the end of the hallway, in a rush. Rafe opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but before he gets the chance, you grab a fistful of his soaked shirt, yanking him into the storage closet, kicking the door shut behind you.

You push him back until his shoulders hit the metal shelves. “What the hell—” he starts, half laughing, but you shut him up with your mouth, kissing him hard, and he doesn’t need any more explanation.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, the water clinging to his t-shirt seeping through yours; your body flush against his as the pressure of the night finally releases.

Rafe groans deeply, hands gripping your hips, but he lets you take the lead. Lets you press your greedy pussy against the rough, wet denim, grinding with the cadence of your kiss.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you whisper, biting his bottom lip as you say it. “Watching them all line up like that. Flirting. Fawning. Laughing like I’m not there—”

“I wasn’t even—baby, I didn’t—”

“I’m telling you, Rafe I know,” your voice leaves your lips in a broken whine. You grab his jaw, thumb stroking the soaked stubble along his cheek.

You peel off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor with a rough wet slap. Your hands are all over him now; nails dragging down his chest leaving behind little red lines as your lips suck, teeth biting down on his neck, marking him as yours.

You reach for his belt with a heavy hand tugging at it impatiently. “I don’t like sharing,” you whisper against his throat. “Even if they’re just looking. I fucking hate it.”

“You don’t have to,” he breathes. “You never have to.”

He stumbles a little when you shove his jeans halfway down his thighs; tugging his boxers down before he can even consider doing it himself.

You wrap your hand around his long, fat cock and he moans—the sound making goosebumps spread across your hot skin.

You stroke him nice and slow, lidded eyes locked on his, watching as he feels it all. His mouth falls open, breathing heavily with you.

“This is what they want?” You whisper, watching his lashes flutter as you run a line of spit down on his throbbing tip. “This part of you they’ll never get to see. Ever.”

“Jesus, baby—” He chokes on his words; moans borderline pornographic.

You lean in, letting your teeth scrape along his ear. “They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know how good you are. How soft you get for me—just me. How easy you fall apart when I touch you just right,” you whisper as you sweep your thumb across his tip, hearing him whimper in sensitivity.

He lifts you, just enough to sit you on top of a crate behind him, hands framing your waist like they were meant to fit right there.

“You really think I see anyone but you?” He says, forehead pressed to yours. “You think I even look anywhere else? I belong to you,” he murmurs, against your throat. “You know that, right?”

You nod as your fingers knit in his hair.

“There’s no one else,” he says again, with a little more assurance. “Never has been. Never will be.”

He slides your panties to the side, easing two fingers inside you. Rafe moves them slow and deep, curling just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel what they never will.”

Your head falls back, mouth open as his thumb finds that perfect spot. He works you open with slow, practiced pressure. His free hand cradles the back of your neck now, holding you steady while he murmurs into your ear.

“Look at me, baby.”

You grip his shoulder for balance, letting your nails dig in as he lifts you, shifting you forward on the crate as he tugs at your hips. He centers you right where he wants you. His cockhead pushing against your drooling hole, slipping in before he slams the rest of the way inside.

You cry out in pleasure—the sounds fill the tiny room as he stuffs you so full your eyes start to brim with tears. He stays just like that, lingering with your wetness; living in the feeling of your body squeezing and pulling him in. “You feel that?” He whispers, voice rough. “Feel how hard I am? That’s what you do to me. M’all yours.”

You bite down on your lip trying to keep the sounds in as your body rocks with his. You’re crammed together in the narrow space, every movement deeper than the last. The shelves rattle behind you, but he doesn’t stop; his grip on your thigh tightening by the second.

Your legs wrap around his back instinctively holding him close as you press your heels into the small of his back, drawing him in.

You can feel every inch and ridge of him—each vein and curve as he drags in and out, heat building in your tummy with every pass.

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, and everything seems to slow. His lips brush gently; parting so he can slip his tongue inside.

His rough thumb circles your clit. “I got you,” he murmurs, lips at your jaw. “I’ve got you, baby.” You bury your face in his neck and gasp as your body starts to tighten around him.

“Rafe—” you whisper, voice cracking.

“I know,” he breathes, “I know you—know you better than anyone ever will.” And with those words he picks up the pace without being asked, pounding into your drenched cunt, railing you as you slap your hand over your mouth, crying out under your palm for him.

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast as he works you through it, praising and whispering soft words of worship through each wave of pleasure.

His rhythm falters as he spills into you with a low, broken sound, forehead pressed tight to yours, slicked with water and sweat.

Neither of you moves for a moment, the both of you sharing breath as your hearts bang together.

You’re still tangled in each other when the faint crackle of your walkie talkie snaps against the quiet.

📻 “Hey, Mrs. Cameron? Uh, we’re out of face paint. Do you know where the extras are?”

You chuckle breathlessly and Rafe does too, voice low and worn out. “Mrs. Cameron… Holy shit,” he drawls, almost bashfully at the way you took control.

“Yeah? You liked that?” You giggle between tender kisses.

“Loved it—I mean I hate that these women got in your head but fuck, baby… That was incredible. You’re unbelievable.”

You help him get dressed, tugging his soaked shirt down over his abs, smoothing it where it clings, still nearly see-through between kisses. He does the same for you, zipping you up, straightening your skirt.

You step out into the hallway with Rafe close behind, and—because the universe has a sense of humor—there she is.

Paisley.

Frozen mid-step, lips parted, on her way to grab the paint because apparently asking you to fetch it wasn’t enough of a performance for her.

Her eyes drag over Rafe—his soaked shirt and sex-messed hair, the little bruise on his neck blooming from your teeth and lips. She gets a good look at you as well—the post-orgasm glow, kiss-swollen lips, and that unmistakable hum of satisfaction wafting between you.

Rafe smiles, easy and unbothered, reaching back ever so slight to grab a box of paint pallets from the shelf.

“Face paint? Already on it, Susan.”

“… It’s Paisley,” she mumbles softly.

“Oh, shit. M’sorry. Just awful with names. You’re gonna have to excuse me,” he adds as he wraps his arm around your waist. Your lips twitch at the corner as you hold back a self-satisfied smile, watching as her cheeks burn red from the embarrassment of it all.

The two of you walk around her, heading back toward the carnival, leaving her behind without a second glance. Because you are the only person who will ever get that.

@rafesthroatbaby @babygoddam @cherrywriterrr @chriscroissant @littlelamy @imakeepers-world-blog @rafesbabygirlx @bisexualcvnt @love-4-rafey-lando @slut-4-rafey @prettybabyyyy @maybankslover @rafecameronswhoore @leather-n-velvet @user25786433455 @wtfdudesblog @i-love-dilfs @tatoda @krissy455 @mymelii @angelicameron @chem1cali @missmookie @rafespeach @heyitsmewee @taliescapes @lolasangelz @cokewithcameron @k4yr14 @starkeyjoseph @daddyrafeslittleslut @leviathan0000 @luvrcndy @mrswidowjohansson @vanessa-rafesgirl @sapphiresighs @atpeacee @alexxavicry @sithapprentice @spideysimpossiblegirl @dilflover72567 @esmerai-artemis @littleshinythoughts @apricityxoxo @rafecamlovr @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @boopiesmif @st8rkey @randomdupe @mqndi1

[simpforboys]

Rafe settled onto the bed behind you, and you felt the world shift—his presence impossible to ignore, big and reassuring. He dwarfed you easily, his solid frame molding directly to yours, thick thighs bracketing your hips to keep you still. God, he smelled good.

When his chest pressed against your back, it felt like sunlight on bare skin. His hands, rough and work-worn, glided up your sides and shivered goosebumps across every inch they touched. “You’re so soft,” he whispered into the curve of your neck, his voice low and sweet. “Makes me wanna mess your pretty little ass up.”

Your hips bucked against the sheets, desperate for more of him. Rafe slid his knee between your thighs, gently easing them apart, hands gripping your hips firmly, and his rough thumbs digging into your flesh possessively.

“You trust me?” he asked, voice soft but serious.

You managed a shaky nod, breath hitching.

He squeezed you, wanting more. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you, Rafe. I always. do”

He murmured his approval, lips brushing your ear before he grabbed the lube, snapping the cap open with a sound that made your stomach flip. The cool gel slicked between your cheeks a moment later, his hands steady as he traced it down your ass.

“'Wanna try something, baby,” Rafe murmured, his voice dark and intimate. “Can’t stop thinking about it—about you.”

His slick finger found your entrance, circling you slowly, teasing until your hips pushed back, craving more. He laughed softly, pleased. “Already twitching for me.”

He pressed just the tip of his finger in, carefully. “Just my finger tonight, unless you beg.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, raw with want. “Please, Rafe. I want it.”

“Aw fuck,” Rafe growled, voice rough with heat. “That’s my good girl.”

He leaned over you, one big hand pressed firm on your lower back, keeping you steady as he started to push in—just the tip at first, easing past the tight ring of muscle. The stretch was sharp, then a little sweet—strange and full, but not too much. You gasped, breath shaking, as he paused to let you adjust.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

He pushed deeper, his thick finger stretching you little by little, the roughness of his skin making every slick thrust sharper.

“'Feel that, baby?” he rasped, fucking his finger in shallow strokes now, curling it just a little with each thrust. “You’re takin’ it like a champ. Greedy little hole suckin’ me in.”

You moaned intently, face buried in the pillow; the stretch hurt, but beneath the pain was a lot deeper—and you felt it every time his finger pushed in and pulled out, causing your whole body to clench tighter.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight here,” he muttered, voice full of lust. “Gonna make me lose my mind.”

He twisted his wrist slightly, grinding the pad of his finger against that hidden spot inside you. Your thighs trembled violently. “Raafe—oh my god—”

“Yeah?” he grinned against your skin. “You feel that, pretty girl? I can tell..your hole’s squeezin’ me like it never wants me to leave.”

He added more lube, drizzling it from the bottle, letting it drip over his finger and down your crack. It was slick now, gliding in easier as he began to move with more confidence—pressing in deeper, thrusting slow and steady, then curling and dragging out.

His other hand slid beneath you, fingers parting your soaked folds, finding your clit with perfect accuracy. He pinched and pulled at it, smirking.

“You’re soaking wet, baby,” he growled. “All from one finger in your ass. Didn’t even touch your pussy yet.”

You whined, hips thrusting against his hands, your body caught between too many sensations. Understanding your movement, his finger pumped into you with a steady rhythm, coaxing your body into accepting more. Your muscles fluttered around him, begging for more of everything his was blessing you with.

He leaned down, kissed the base of your spine. “You ready for another one, sweetheart?”

You nodded wildly. “Yes...yes..please—i want it.”

“My fuckin’ dirty girl,” he purred. “Openin’ up for me like this..beggin’ me to stretch your ass out with my fingers.”

He slid the second finger in slowly, the burn sharper this time. You gasped, grabbing at the sheets, but Rafe was right there—pressing kisses to your back, whispering sweet filth in your ear.

“You’re takin’ it so good...look at you.”

His two fingers moved in tandem now, he scissored them slightly, opening you more with each pass, making you feel every single inch of him. The pressure built like steam in your belly, your clit throbbing against his other hand.

“Uh huh, wanna feel you come just like this,” he growled. “My fingers deep in your tight little ass, my other hand makin’ you soak the sheets. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes,” you cried. “Please, rafe—don’t stop—” Your orgasm built slowly and intensely.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, voice a lot more scratchy than before. “Let it all go. Show me how much you fuckin’ love this.”

Your body clenched around his fingers, sobs flowing from your throat. Wetness gushed onto his hand, the sheets, the bed, soaking everything in sight. Being the best boyfriend, rafe held you tight, fingers still going, drawing every last tremble from your core.

“That’s it, looook at that.”

You collapsed into the sheets, while his fingers slipped from your ass with a wet pop. He, looking at the glistening sight, leaned down and licked the mess between your thighs, groaning at the salty-sweet taste of you.

“You’re unreal,” he murmured against your skin. “Gonna keep touchin’ and fuckin' you ‘til you beg me to stop.”

❤︎‬ @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafedaddy01 @rafesangelita @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @@ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @wintercrows @st8rkey @nemesyaaa @sturns-mermaid @drewswife @kisses4rafey

[simpforboys]

I love himbo!rafe

˒ 𝑯𝑰𝑴𝑩𝐎 .ᐟ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 showing you off to his friends ..

giddy puppy behavior ༦ ⬭ rambling ༦ ⬭ himbo introduction ༦ ⬭

he bit his knuckle, turning you around in a spin. “wooh,” he squealed. you giggled at his reaction. “okay, you’ve seen the outfit. can we go in now?”

rafe begged you to twin with him for your guys’ outfits. when you said yes, he couldn’t have ran faster to his closet to grab clothes of his for you. “you know i want you in my clothes all the time now right? i love your outfits and all, but i like this more. way more. i feel like i have to get something of yours on my body now. how about your name tatted? i’m down.”

you gently swatted his arm. “you’re not doing that. you already took a bunch of pictures of me, how much more staring do you need?” you slightly tugged up rafe’s pants you were wearing. he made a funny noise and you looked up to see the silliest smile on his face. “you’re so small, my stuff doesn’t even fit. how about we ditch this and just stay home while you model my clothes for me?”

you fixed him with a look, “later, rafe. your friends are here, don’t you want to see them?”

“no,” he immediately answered. you grabbed his belt to step closer, peering up at him. “yes, you do,” rafe nodded absentmindedly. “yes, i do.”

you smiled. “great,” you grabbed his hand, walking through the door. when rafe spotted his friends, he pulled them into a bro hug, turning to you. “here she is,” rafe smiled. you bit back a smirk at his bluntness.

“right, i know you. you’re all over rafe’s instagram. didn’t believe him when he said he met someone, then i saw picture proof,” the guy said. “’m kelsey. i know you met topper,” he gestured to the boy beside him. you nodded, giving topper a smile.

“guys, look,” rafe said, bringing a hand up to his head, then down to yours, measuring the height difference. “is she my mini me or what?”

kelsey laughed, noticing your outfits. “oh, shoot. who’s idea was this? actually, do i even have to ask?”

rafe shrugged, “she lets me do silly things with her. isn’t she great? and she looks great in my clothes, i can’t compete. she even let me take pictures. not gonna post them though, those are mine. why were you looking at her on my instagram?” rafe realized at the end of his sentence.

kelsey threw his hands up, “that stuff is public, bro, chill out. you were talking about how great she is. .” he changed the subject, knowing rafe gets distracted easily, especially when it comes to bragging about you.

“oh, right. she even likes my kiddish hobbies. she plays my favorite games with me and lets me be first player. and when we’re watching a movie and i don’t understand it, she explains it like a pro. it’s like she made the movie,” he said adoringly.

“and when i scraped myself doing a flip for her the other day, she patched me up. i told her she should be a medic and even tried to call the hospital to sign her up, but they said that’s not how that works. they don’t deserve her talent anyway.”

you glanced away shyly when you realized he was just going on and on, rafe’s friends listening intently.

“and she’s so pretty, i’m always taking pictures of her. she lets me take her pictures to post, too. all the dudes looking at her stuff don’t know i’m the one behind the camera. i get behind the scenes, they just look at a screen.”

rafe absentmindedly grabbed you, wrapping an arm around you from behind, “’s like people should find partners like her, but there’s no one like her. it’s unfortunate, but fortunate for me. no one would even come close. . ’s great.”

topper frowned, “way to make me feel good about being single, bro.”

rafe gripped your face with his ringed hand, smiling down at you. “yeah, i don’t care.”

[simpforboys]

✮⋆˙ . sensory!reader and her need to be crushed by rafe while they cuddle.

warnings — none, really! soft!rafe x sensory!reader. angst & brief mentions of rafe brushing reader off.

cherie’s note — requested here! thank you anon<3 decided to stick with a more subtle approach for a sensory seeking/autistic reader. i seriously need to write more for soft!rafe, absolutely healing something inside of me writing this awe.

"baby."

the word cuts softly through the quiet, not harsh — just... curious. a thread of confusion wrapped in affection.

you don't look at him right away.

your curled up on the far end of the couch, legs drawn to your chest, blanket tucked high around your chin like armor. the soft hum of the tv flickers across your face, but your gaze is vacant — not really watching, not really here.

rafe shifts his weight where he sits, brow furrowing slightly. his eyes linger on you for a beat too long. he'd spoken once already. maybe twice. but it didn't seem like you'd absorbed any of it, even heard him. like you were lost in the space between here and there.

"...you okay?" he tries, voice low.

you hum. not an answer. more of a deflection, pretending to focus on the television show that reruns for nearly the hundredth time — one of your comfort movies, something from your childhood that you found helped you feel grounded. but it was no use now, not with the events of earlier stinging your mind.

and it clicks for him — not all at once, but in fragments. the way you'd barely spoken since the afternoon. the polite nods. the hollow 'i'm fine' you tossed over your shoulder when he came to sit beside you earlier. the way you subtly leaned away when his fingers brushed your knee.

all of it.

shit.

he glances away, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek in the way he always seems to do.

it hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time — you'd asked for something so specific, so quietly, just 'can you lay on me for a bit?', and he'd snapped before even thinking, too wrapped up in the chaos of his phone blowing up with business deals, and investors bitching about god-knows-what.

"you'll be fine for a bit," he muttered, already halfway across the room.

it wasn't just the dismissal. it was the way he said it. the assumption that you'd be fine — as if it hadn't taken everything in you to ask in the first place, coming from a place of pure vulnerability, and needing. as if you hadn't needed that closeness in a way words couldn't even explain.

you hadn't brought it up since. that's not your style. you just went quiet — a dull, subdued kind of quiet. like the air around you got thinner and you learned how to breathe smaller, take up less space.

now, hours later, he watches your fingers fidget with the frayed edge of the blanket. your nails scrape softly over the threads, over and over again. your lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy, unfocused. you look like you're underwater.

he leans in just a little.

"baby," he says again, softer this time. "talk to me."

you blink.

"i'm tired."

"that's not what i asked."

your shoulders rise, then fall.

"i know," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "i just don't wanna be a lot right now."

that breaks him a little. it cracks something.

"you're not a lot," he says. immediate. almost too fast. "you never are. don't do that."

you don't respond.

and the silence between you stretches long, tight with everything unspoken — the need you swallowed down, the soft request he brushed off, the ache you'd carried all day like a weight in your chest.

he swallows, guilt rising like bile.

"come here."

he watches the way your body hesitates — then unfolds, slowly, as you let him pull you into his arms. your limbs are sluggish, like you'd half-melted in his lap. like it takes effort to just... let go.

he doesn't say anything as he shifts you into his lap, guiding you down gently until you're on your back, tucked into the corner of the soft couch, and then he covers you with himself, warm and heavy, chest-to-chest, legs tangled with yours.

all his weight, everywhere. just like you'd craved all day.

and god, the sound you make — a tiny, broken exhale against his neck — kills him.

"m'sorry," he mumbles into the crown of your head. "didn't mean to blow you off. you should've told me i was being a dick."

"you weren't" you whisper. "you were just busy, s'all."

"next time you ask, i don't care what's happening — i've got you, okay?"

you nod, slow and careful.

but it's the way you nuzzle into his neck — the way your body softens entirely beneath his, letting out soft, content sighs — that lets him know: you'd forgiven him.

[simpforboys]

Rafe who always has his hand on your boob, like literally all the time

you’re brushing your teeth when he sneaks up behind you. his shirtless, warm, and smug body joins your reflection in the mirror. he doesn’t say anything, just plants a palm flat on your boob like it’s a normal way to say good morning. you pause, toothbrush mid-cheek. “…seriously?”

“what?” rafe says, muffled through a yawn, face buried in your shoulder. his hand doesn’t move. “it’s where it belongs.”

you glare at him in the mirror, toothpaste foam halfway to rabid. “you just woke up.”

“and already i’m being accused.” he squeezes gently, like it’s proof of innocence. “this is comfort. this is affection. this is how i center myself.”

you spit into the sink. “you’re disgusting.” he grins. kisses your jaw. doesn’t remove his hand. if anything, he gets more comfortable, leaning all his weight into you until you’re bent over the counter, laughing and annoyed and half tempted to elbow him in the ribs. “rafe.”

“baby.”

“do you ever, like…not grab my boob?”

he pretends to think. like it’s a real philosophical question. “no.”

“ever?”

“maybe when i’m dead. but even then i’ll haunt you with ghost hands.” you roll your eyes so hard they almost fall out. but when you nudge him away, he just groans, kisses your bare shoulder, and mutters, “fine. but i’m holding it in the car later.”

you shake your head. “you’re impossible.”

he smirks. “i’m in love.”

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04 @kelbrave @bebebambs @leviathan0000 @yolgart @jkmylove97 @blushhbambi @lightreadingty @bewitchedarchive @yelqze

[simpforboys]

would you ever do a frat!perv!manipulator!rafe x topper's dumb gf situation where topper watches? or topper even gives rafe permission to take care of the reader when he’s busy/unable to? rafe doesn’t seem too discreet nor topper too concerned, so those two worlds colliding would be chefs kiss

Frat!perv!manipulator!Rafe who finally fucks Topper’s dumb girlfriend…

(warnings: smut, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, cheating, walking in on ppl having sex, voyeurism, creampie, ditsy!reader)

series masterlist

Thank you all so much for your support on this series I loved writing it sm<33

All it really took was for Topper to say he was going to be at home for the weekend.

Rafe had texted you and asked if you wanted to hangout, which you responded in your nativity.

It’s a Saturday evening, and as soon as you step foot into the Alpha Sigma Phi house, Rafe is sneaking you past the other fraternity brothers and upstairs into his shared room with your boyfriend.

And when the door shut, Rafe was on you in an instant.

His lips colliding hungrily with yours, his big, veiny hands gripping your ass as he backs you up onto his raised twin xl bed, your boyfriend’s messy, abandoned sheets only five feet away.

It was a struggle to kiss him back, but you quickly managed to match his pace. He was so much rougher, so much more eager than Topper.

“Fuck… y’know how long I’ve been dreamin’ of this?” Rafe mutters against your glossy lips.

All you could do was whine as he lifted you up and onto his bed, his rough hands quickly pushing your tank top up to reveal your pink lace bra.

His mouth was quick to attack your neck, collarbones, the tops of your breasts as his fingers fiddled to unhook the material. And he audibly whimpered when your tits were exposed to him.

“He doesn’t deserve to see these titties… Jesus Christ.” He mutters, before popping a nipple into his greedy mouth.

“Who?” You panted, back arching to feed the starving boy more.

Rafe huffed through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Your boyfriend.”

“Ohhhh…” you realized.

Jesus Christ, Rafe thought.

But his tongue swirled your nipple, his hands already tugging down your skirt. He was greedy and spent too long wanting this.

So it definitely didn’t take long until he had you in a mean mating press, the tip of his cock consistently nudging into your g spot.

Your pedicured feet hanging in the air, the backs of your knees hooked onto his thighs as he pounds away like he’s been waiting months for this. Because he has.

“A-ah, ah, Rafey!” You squeak out, the twin xl bed frame slamming into the wall with every movement of his sculpted hips.

“Fuck… ya like that shit? Pussy squeezin’ me s’hard.” He grunts, his hands on either side of your frame to help support him.

Your manicured nails were digging into his biceps, pretty eyes rolling back as your tits bounced with every brutal thrust.

But both of you were in pure bliss, and definitely didn’t notice when Topper opened the door because he forgot something.

Topper’s eyes widen in shock, seeing his best friend fucking his girlfriend. But he’s not an idiot, and he knows Rafe has a crush on you.

“Mhm… givin’ this cunt what it needs, huh? Bet Topper doesn’t fuck you like this.” Rafe mutters, his stomach tight with pleasure as a thin layer of sweat coats his body.

And Topper never thought of himself finding this hot, but the way he’s already pitching a tent in his shorts says otherwise.

“Jesus, Rafe. You’re fucking my girl?” Topper rolls his eyes.

Rafe and you finally notice him, your face heating up at being walked in on while your boyfriend’s best friend is balls deep inside you.

Rafe just smirks, slowing down a bit to talk to his roommate. “Don’t act like you care.”

Topper just huffs, adjusting the tent in his shorts. Yeah, Topper did love you. But secretly he was seeing a girl named Ruthie, so he didn’t really care too much.

“Oh no, Toppy. You’re hard.” You speak up finally, a pout on your sweet face despite looking so fucked out.

It’s Rafe’s turn to roll his eyes. “Toppy…” he mutters under his breath.

“I think if you’re gonna fuck my girlfriend, I should at least be allowed to watch.” Topper states, sitting on his lifted bed that is five feet away from Rafe’s.

“Really, man? Whatever.” Rafe huffs in annoyance, but his cock twitches inside you at the idea of his best friend watching him fuck you.

So, Rafe pats your ass as he readjusts you to where you’re lying on your stomach with your hips propped up, cheek smooshed into the mattress.

“Good girl… let your boyfriend watch me give ya the best dick of your life.”

And then his thrusts were brutal again, the bed creaking and the return of your loud moans.

But you and Rafe were too busy to really even pay attention to Topper, who was now pulling his dick out of his shorts to jerk off.

Your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping at the sheets as your body moved with his thrusts. The noises in the room were absolutely filthy, and it was a good thing that most of the frat brothers were gone.

“Tell Toppy you’re my girl now. Do it while I make you cum on my cock.” Rafe demands, using the nickname you gave your boyfriend like an insult.

And then he brought his hand down, those skilled fingers finding your clit and rubbing it. Your hips bucked up, a squeal leaving you.

“‘m R-Rafey’s girl now!” You squeak out, the pleasure overwhelming you as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

Topper can’t help but let out a low groan, fucking his own hand as he cums quickly, staining his shirt.

Rafe just smirks, his other hand softly slapping your ass as he chases his own release while simultaneously desperate to give you yours.

Your body tenses up, walls fluttering around him as you orgasm the hardest you’ve ever had, right in front of your now-ex-boyfriend. The way you trembled was the most amazing feeling to Rafe, boosting his ego and pleasure.

And it didn’t take much longer before he’s muttering curses, hips stuttering as he spills his load deep into your cunt. His hands move to either sides of your shoulders, panting as his eyes squeezed shut and riding out his orgasm. “Fuck.”

The three of you pant, the reality of the situation settling in finally.

Rafe swallows, looking over at Topper. “Why don’t ya clean up ‘n leave? I wanna fuck my girl again.”

Topper just sighs, grabbing some tissues off their shared nightstand and cleaning himself up before flipping Rafe off and grabbing whatever he came back for before leaving.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe murmurs, blue eyes flickering down at you.

Eyes closed in bliss, a small smile on your lips.

“Mhmm… so good, Rafey.” You mumble softly.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your shoulder before repositioning onto his spread knees. His big hands grab your hips, pulling you back towards him some more.

“Good… ‘cus now you’re officially my girl, I gotta make up for all the lost time.” He coos, before starting to thrust again.

[simpforboys]

✮⋆˙ rafe gets clingy when you scratch his back — and even clingier when you stop.

warnings — none, really! soft!rafe will never beat the sassy man allegations.

cherie’s note — requested here! this was such a good prompt ugh — i let out a little giggle whenever i see this trend on tiktok. thank you for the idea, nonnie!<3

he came in quiet tonight. just a tired little grunt as he kicked off his shoes, dropped his keys somewhere on the kitchen island, and wandered into your shared bedroom like there was nowhere else on earth he would rather be — because, honestly, he kind of did.

you didn't ask what happened. he didn't offer, either. didn't need to. with the stress surrounding the family businesses after ward's passing, and the emotional rollercoaster of losing the rest of his family in the process, things around tannyhill had kind of just been... off. he just crawled into your bed, flopped facedown like a man who had lost a war, and mumbled something like, "please. your nails. back. now."

so now you're laying beside him, acting as the big spoon (which never happens, by the way), running your fingers down the planes of his bare back — lightly, slowly, dragging your nails along his spine and over his shoulders. he's warm from the shower, his hair still damp where it curls against the pillow.

he barely speaks. just lets out the occasional breathy sigh or satisfied little hum. you can feel the tension ease from his body in slow waves, each releasing a piece of whatever he had carried in with him.

after awhile, his breathing deepens. slower, heavier. his shoulders slacken, he's almost asleep.

so you pause — just for a second, to adjust your position or shake your hand out, thinking you'd lulled him into sleep and it was safe to stop.

but he lets out the most pitiful little sound. a wounded sigh, full of drama and betrayal.

a muffled, miserable little whimper, all sleep-slurred and pouty: "nooo... why'd you stop...?"

you blink. "my hand cramped—"

he twists against the plush blankets to glance at you, cheeks pressed against his pillow, lashes heavy over glassy blue eyes. his brows tug together. "hurts."

"your hand?" you ask, amused.

"no," he murmurs, eyes already drifting shut again. "my feelings."

you snort, leaning back over him as your nails return to his back, and immediately he melts — arms sinking into the mattress, face nuzzling deeper into the pillow below his cheek.

"s'what i thought," he mumbles.

you roll your eyes gently, more amused than annoyed.

moments like this were rare with rafe — the stone cold wall he typically put up had been broken down, accepting the love he'd never thought he deserved.

and when he mumbles, "love you, y'know," so quietly you almost miss it — you just smile, scratch a little softer.

"i know, baby. me too."

[simpforboys]

oh you know, just randomly thinking about this mirror pic lately 😩

Your cheek was pressed into the mattress, both of you sweating, your breath coming out in short, helpless gasps. He had you pinned just how he liked it—back arched, ass high, and face turned toward the massive mirror across the room. His hand was firm on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as he watched his hips drive in and out of you, getting a glace of his cock, slick with your arousal.

“Eyes open,” he grunted, his voice rough and deep, “I want you to see what I see.”

But your eyes were already pinched shut, your jaw clenching as the pressure built, the sound of hips slapping against your skin. Your flushed face, the way your body jolted forward with every hard thrust, the way his muscled frame looked behind you, sweat slick on his chest, jaw clenched in focus.

“Shit, baby,” he growled, keeping his pace steady and giving your ass a sharp smack. “Look at that… takin’ all of me. So fuckin’ pretty.”

"Can't open your eyes, huh?" He said laughing, taunting you.

"R-ray, you're gonna make me come," You cried out, your voice cracking as your thighs began to feel weak with the pressure building inside of you, feeling unbearable. You tried to pull away, it was too much, too deep, too perfect- and that pissed Rafe off.

"Nah, you trying to run now, pretty girl? I'm tryin' to take care of my girl," he said gripping your waist, pulling you back to keep you right where he wanted you. His hand came down to grip your chin, pulling your body up against his chest and forcing you to look in the mirror.

You tried to brace yourself, a small moan slipping out as you watched him fucking you from behind as his other arm wrapped around your waist. Your legs feeling weaker at the new angle causing you to gasp. His hand refused to leave the spot on your chin, forcing you to watch the filthy scene in the mirror.

"R-rafe.." You mumbled out, feeling the orgasm getting closer, the moans continuing to spill out. You could see it all, the mess he had made of you, the way your body shook with every thrust.

"You're a fucking mess," He said, his lips against your ear, "You see that?" He asked you, the grip on your chin tightening as he felt you flutter against him, "That's me takin' care of you, watch yourself take that dick, baby."

[simpforboys]

hey!!! i wanted to ask if you'll continue perv!rafe x topper!gf. obsessed with it!!

Yes I’m writing the last part rn!! It should be out soon :3

[simpforboys]

Mechanic!Rafe Cameron x Innocent!Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! corruption kink, slight age gap, power play, dubcon, dirty talk, rough but caring sex

want more?

summary, When your car breaks down, you head to your dad’s auto shop expecting him—but find Rafe Cameron there alone instead. He’s your dad’s newest hire: covered in grease, a bad attitude, and worse intentions. You’ve always been the good girl, untouched and innocent… but Rafe sees right through you. And he’s got a thing for ruining pretty things.

You shouldn't have gone there alone. Not with the way he looked at you.

Your dad’s garage smelled like oil and rubber, the air thick with heat and grease, the kind that clung to your skin. You only needed a ride home; your car was still in the shop, and he promised to take you. But the office was empty, the lights off, and your father’s truck was nowhere in sight.

Only he was there. Rafe Cameron.

He looked up from under the hood of a ‘69 Charger, wiping his hands on a rag already stained black. His jaw flexed as he watched you walk in, all sundress and lipgloss, a little too sweet for a place like this. A slow, crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Daddy's not here,” he said, voice low and rough. “He left about ten minutes ago.” He glanced down at his hands, then back up at you. “Told me to lock up. Guess he forgot you were comin’.”

“Oh,” you breathed, fingers fidgeting with your bag strap. “I just—I needed a ride.”

He set the rag aside and leaned back against the car, eyes dragging down your body. You weren’t dumb. You knew he was trouble. Your dad warned you about him more than once.

Too many fights. Too many girls. Too much attitude.

And yet here you were.

Rafe cocked his head. “You trust me to take you home, sweetheart?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I guess I don’t have a choice?”

That grin deepened, dangerous now like he knew something you didn’t. He walked slowly toward you, each step echoing in the cavernous space until he was standing right before you, tall and broad and still smelling like motor oil and cigarettes.

“You shouldn’t say shit like that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Someone like me might take it the wrong way.”

Your breath caught.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you did.” His fingers trailed down to your neck, then paused at your collarbone, eyes locked on yours. “You think your daddy would still let me work here if he knew the things I wanted to do to his little girl?”

You swallowed hard. “Rafe…”

“You ever been touched, baby?” he whispered, voice like smoke. “Or are you still all sweet and tight and untouched?”

Your cheeks burned, and that silence was all he needed.

“Oh, fuck. You are, aren’t you?”

He groaned, low and filthy, his hand slipping to your waist. “You got no idea what that does to me.”

“Rafe, I don’t think—”

He kissed you before you could finish, mouth hot and urgent against yours. You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve. But instead you melted into him, fingers clinging to his grease-streaked shirt as he kissed you like he was starving.

“I’ll be good,” he rasped against your lips. “I’ll teach you nice. Make it feel so fuckin’ good you’ll forget your own name.”

He backed you into the tool bench, hands lifting your skirt, his breath hot against your neck. And when he finally sank to his knees in front of you, looking up like you were the only thing worth worshipping, you realized that you weren’t walking out of that shop the same girl who walked in.

You gripped the edge of the workbench behind you like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Rafe’s hands, big and calloused, pushed your thighs apart, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across your soft skin. He looked like he belonged down there, kneeling between your legs, grease-smudged and hungry.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, eyes dark, locked on your core like a predator. “You scared, baby?”

You nodded, breath catching.

“Good.” His smirk was cruel and fond all at once. “You should be. You’ve been daddy’s little angel all your life, huh? Never done anything bad.”

His hands slid up under your skirt, fingertips brushing over the cotton of your underwear. “But here you are. Soaking through these just from me talking to you.”

You whimpered when he pressed his thumb against the damp spot. “Don’t worry,” he crooned. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

He pulled your panties aside and didn’t waste time. His tongue was on you in seconds, hot and wet, licking you like he’d been waiting forever for a taste. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, thighs trying to close around his head, but he held you open, mouth working you like a fucking meal.

“Rafe—oh my god—”

He growled into you, dragging the flat of his tongue up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. It was filthy. Messy. Nothing like the sweet first time you’d imagined, but it felt good. Too good. Your head tipped back, chest heaving as he devoured you like he owned you.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, voice muffled between your thighs. “You wanted someone to ruin you, didn’t you? Someone to show you what that tight little pussy’s for.”

Your moan was all the answer he needed.

“Yeah,” he grunted, sucking harder. “That’s it. Be a good girl and come on my fuckin’ face.”

You didn’t stand a chance. It slammed into you, hot and intense, your thighs trembling as he held you through it, still licking, still sucking, until you were panting and boneless.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were soaked with you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood, towering over you again.

“Look at you,” he said, dragging a thumb across your swollen bottom lip. “All fucked out and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

Your knees buckled, and he caught you with a laugh, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and setting you down on the workbench.

“You want more, baby?” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. “’Cause I’m not done showing you just how bad you really are.”

Your legs were shaking as he laid you back on the workbench, the chill of the metal biting at your spine but all you could focus on was him.

Rafe stood between your thighs, jeans pushed low, cock in hand, thick, heavy, and flushed with need. You stared, lips parted, overwhelmed by his size and sheer presence.

“You sure about this, baby?” he asked, voice lower than a growl. “You let me in now, I’m not gonna be gentle. Not the first time, not the tenth. You let me fuck you once and you’ll never be able to stop.”

You whimpered, but nodded.

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. “Then be a good girl and open up f’me.”

The stretch burned at first, hot and sharp and too much. You gasped, hands clutching at the edge of the bench, body tight around him as he pushed in, slow but unrelenting. Inch after inch, filling you more than anything ever had.

“Fuck,” Rafe breathed, head falling forward. “You’re so damn tight… like your cunt’s never been touched.”

“It hasn’t,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You’re the first…”

His groan was downright sinful. “Fuckin’ knew it. I knew it. Bet your daddy doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue what his little girl’s doing in the back of his shop right now.”

You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed, but so full, so deep.

Then Rafe started to move, slow at first, then harder, faster, as your slick built up and your moans got louder. The bench squeaked beneath you, metal tools clinking with every thrust, your hands desperately clawing at his shoulders.

“You like that?” he grunted. “Like being split open on my cock like a fuckin’ toy?”

You couldn’t even speak, just nodded, tears at the corners of your eyes from the intensity. From how much you loved it.

Then...

BZZZ. BZZZ.

Your phone lit up next to you on the workbench.

Daddy Calling…

Your stomach dropped.

Rafe saw it. Smirked. And never stopped thrusting.

“Ohhh, fuck yes,” he laughed under his breath. “Answer it.”

“I—I can’t—”

He grabbed the phone, hit accept, and held it to your ear with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Say hi, baby,” he murmured. “Let him hear that sweet voice while I’m buried in your fuckin’ guts.”

You struggled to keep your voice steady. “H-Hi, Daddy…”

His voice on the other end was casual. “Hey, sweetheart. Just checkin’ in, you get to the shop okay? Rafe still around?”

Rafe’s hand gripped your throat lightly, eyes burning into yours.

You swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah. He’s here. Just—finishing up…”

He thrust deep. You whimpered.

“You alright, honey? You sound… outta breath.”

Rafe mouthed, Lie to him.

“I’m good,” you managed, voice tight. “It’s just… hot back here.”

You heard your dad laugh. “Alright, well, tell Rafe I’ll see him Monday. You need a ride home or he takin’ you?”

Rafe mouthed it again, hips snapping up into yours: Say I’m taking you.

“He’s—he’s taking me,” you said, blinking through tears.

You hung up quick. The second the line dropped, Rafe slammed into you, hard enough to make the whole bench shift.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, his rhythm going brutal now. “Lying to Daddy while I fuck you full, what would he think if he saw you right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. You were already falling apart. Reaching a high for the second time. This time, it felt like fire spreading through your veins, every muscle in your body tensing.

“You gonna let me cum in you?” he growled. “Let me stuff this tight little pussy and walk you out like nothin’ happened?”

“Please,” you cried, arching under him. “I want it—I want all of it—”

That was it.

He groaned, deep and rough, grinding into you as he came, hot and thick, spilling inside you. His hips jerked once, twice more before he collapsed over you, panting, still buried deep.

When he pulled out, his cum spilled down your thighs, warm and messy.

He stared at it for a second. Then looked at you, eyes hungry and possessive.

“You’re not a Daddy’s girl anymore,” he whispered. “You’re mine now.”

The garage was quiet again. The only sound was the faint hum of the old fan in the corner and your unsteady breathing as you lay back on the bench, legs still trembling.

Rafe hadn’t pulled out yet. His cock was softening inside you, but he didn’t move. Just leaned over you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tracing lazy patterns along your thigh.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, almost tender.

You nodded, blinking up at him, the edges of your innocence frayed and unraveling. “Yeah.”

“Hurts?”

“A little,” you admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

He smiled, the cocky edge of his grin softened by something warm. He brushed his lips over your forehead and murmured, “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

He finally pulled out, and you gasped at the warm spill of him leaking down your thighs. His eyes darkened as he watched it, his fingers tracing your inner thigh, dragging through the mess he made.

“Gonna be dripping all the way home,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Bet you’ll still be wet when you sit down for dinner.”

You shoved at his chest, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Stop!”

He grinned but handed you a clean rag, helping you clean up gently even though his fingers lingered too long, like he couldn’t not touch you.

Once you were decent again, he pulled you close, settling between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your chest.

“You know he’s gonna find out,” he said eventually.

Your stomach dropped.

“W-What?”

Rafe looked up at you with a slow, lazy smirk. “He’s not dumb. You think he won’t notice the way you walk? Or the way you can’t even look him in the eye after being filled with my cum.”

You slapped his shoulder with a gasp, mortified, but he caught your wrist, pulled your hand to his mouth, and kissed your knuckles.

“You’re mine now.” His voice was gravel and heat. “You think I’m gonna let someone else touch what I just ruined? No fuckin’ chance.”

Your heart twisted at his words, possessive, raw, and real. This wasn’t just a one-time thing to him. And despite every reason to say no, to pull away, to run home and pretend nothing happened…

You didn’t want to.

Not when he looked at you like that. Like you were the only good thing he’d ever laid hands on. Like he wanted to dirty you up again and again just to keep a piece of you under his skin.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet.

"I'm yours."

[simpforboys]

season 1 Rafe is so underrated so could u pls do a fic where Rafe has a baby with you and you guys are out on his boat and the pogues go past and provoke him but you step in and is reminded that their baby is there and so he backs off??

Boat day || dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I totally agree!!! Thank you for the request :)

Warnings: season 1!Rafe deserves its own warning ngl lmao

Word count: 955

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

The sun was unforgiving in the way only the Outer Banks sun could be—high, hot, and constant, baking the wood of the boat deck beneath your bare feet and turning the horizon into a blinding line of white-gold where sky met sea. Rafe had taken the day off.

Which, for him, meant radio silence from Ward, no cocaine, no Tannyhill business, and no Kook drama. Just you, your baby girl, and the bow of the family boat rocking gently against the lapping waves. Your daughter was asleep against your chest, her soft cheek nestled into your collarbone as you sat in one of the white leather seats, shaded under the canopy.

One chubby hand clung to your sundress strap. She was a summer baby—tan already at five months old, with that impossibly golden fuzz of hair and Rafe’s impossibly long lashes. Rafe stood shirtless at the wheel, sunglasses low on his nose, one hand loosely gripping the throttle.

He looked good—skin bronzed, sun glinting off the gold chain around his neck, salt drying in his hair. There was something about him out here, away from the chaos and judgment of the island, that made him feel more like your Rafe. Not Ward’s son, not Kildare’s problem child.

Just the boy you had met behind the country club tennis courts when you were both fifteen. You closed your eyes for a second, listening to the hum of the engine idling, the water slapping against the hull, the occasional squawk of gulls overhead. But the calm didn’t last.

Because you heard the low buzz of another motorboat approaching. Rafe’s head snapped up before you could even open your eyes fully. His body stiffened like a coiled spring. You knew that posture. “Don’t,” you said softly, even before you saw them. Rafe didn’t answer.

You adjusted your daughter gently, standing to peer over the side just as the familiar Chateau-style wreck of a boat cruised past about twenty feet out, bumping slightly over the wake. And there they were—JJ at the wheel, Pope lounging back with his feet on the rail, and John B shirtless as always, flicking water at Kiara with a smirk on his face.

Rafe’s hand clenched around the wheel. The Pogues hadn’t even noticed you yet. Until JJ caught sight of Rafe. He straightened, tipped his head like he was about to say something smart—and sure enough, the shit-eating grin formed. “Aw, look at that! Daddy Rafe’s babysitting today!” You could feel the tension like heat radiating off Rafe’s back.l

“JJ,” Kiara hissed, elbowing him sharply before throwing a glance your way—at you and the baby on your hip. You adjust your daughter higher on your hip, her lashes fluttering as she stirred but didn’t wake. John B whistled and leaned over the side of the boat.

“Better keep the kid outta the sun, Cameron! Or you’ll end up raising another entitled jackass—just like you.” That was it. Rafe jerked away from the wheel, grabbing the side of the boat like he might leap overboard and swim to theirs. “Fucking say that again, John B. I dare you—”

“Rafe,” you snapped, stepping forward, body between him and the edge. His jaw was locked, knuckles white. A storm gathering behind his eyes. “Rafe,” you said again, firmer now. He finally looked at you. And that was when you saw the rage settle into his chest like a loaded gun with no trigger pulled.

His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked at your daughter. Her tiny hand still fisted in the fabric of your dress, head rising and falling with each of your breaths. She was watching. Even in sleep, she was watching. “Not worth it,” you said, your voice softer now, more private.

“You think they win when you lose your temper like this? When she sees that side of you?” Rafe blinked. You watched it happen—the flicker of logic returning. The weight of your words. His shoulders dropped a fraction. He still looked furious, but you could see him fighting it now.

He turned back toward the Pogues, who had slowed their boat just enough to linger, still laughing, still watching. Rafe leaned against the side of the boat, arms crossed over his chest“You’re lucky my kid’s here,” he called out, voice cold and hard as ice, but steady now.

“If she wasn’t, I’d show you what it means to talk shit when you’re not on the dock.” JJ cupped a hand to his ear, laughing. “Aww, look! Rafe went soft!” Pope muttered something, and John B shook his head, smirking. But their boat started to drift forward again. Cowards, really.

You didn’t take your eyes off Rafe until the Pogues were distant enough you could only hear the low drone of their engine. When you looked back at him, you saw the guilt flicker across his features, the vein in his jaw still pulsing.

[simpforboys]

https://www.tumblr.com/simpforboys/776763436538462208/masterlist-for-fratpervmanipulatorrafe-x

I missss would you ever continue???

Yessss I’m working on part 5 rn

I promise promise promise it will be out end of July, if it’s not pressure me guys!!!

[simpforboys]

hey! are you aware someone’s using your work as a bot on character ai?

I currently know of one that someone is using for the Rafe x topper’s dumb gf and I have blocked and reported that bot/account on tumblr

But if there are more I am not aware :(

[simpforboys]

Hi! Can you do S (spit in mouth) with best friend rafe?

Thank you!!

S – Spit

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

mdni 18+

It starts with him teasing.

Like always.

You’re sprawled across Rafe’s bed, both of you slightly tipsy, some movie forgotten in the background, your legs tangled like they always are. He’s leaning over you now, grinning like a menace, two fingers pressed to your lips.

“Open,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Why?”

“Just wanna see somethin’.”

You open your mouth anyway, because you always do what Rafe says when he asks like that—low, lazy, confident. His thumb drags along your bottom lip, and then he hums, all soft and mocking.

“Good girl.”

Your thighs clench.

He doesn’t miss it.

His eyes flick down, something darker passing through them. Then he leans in close—closer than best friends should—and tips his chin.

“Stick your tongue out.”

Your heart pounds. “Rafe…”

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Just a little. Be good f’me.”

So you do. And he spits.

A slow, lazy drop right onto your tongue—warm and obscene—and you don’t move. You don’t flinch. You let it sit there, breath shaking, until he growls, “Swallow it.”

You do. You fucking do.

And that’s it for him.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, mouth crashing to yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and so long overdue it makes your whole body ache. He rolls you under him, hands everywhere, grinding into you hard enough to make you gasp.

“Always knew you were filthy,” he hisses, lips dragging down your throat. “You want my spit but won’t let me fuck you? That make sense to you, baby?”

“You never asked,” you pant.

He pulls back, breath ragged. “I’m asking now.”

You nod before he even finishes the sentence.

And when he slides your shorts down and shoves his fingers inside you—rough, deep, possessive—you’re already moaning for more, already arching into him like this was always gonna happen.

Like you’ve been waiting for it.

And Rafe? He leans over, breath warm against your cheek, and whispers:

“Next time I spit in that mouth, it’s gonna be right before I fuck it.”

a/n: omg i think i blacked out writing this?? this somehow turned into the filthiest best friends to lovers spiral of all time. rafe is definitely the type to say “swallow it” like it’s a love language. thank you baby for requesting a letter!!

♥️ lani

nsfw a-z

[simpforboys]

Hear me out bimbo!mistress!reader and Rafe r fucking on the couch and Rafe is pressing down on you're stomach while his wife calls him and lets him know that she is on her way home so he has to be make it quick

Rafe fucks bimbo!mistress!reader on the couch

warnings: cheating, age gap, older!Rafe and younger!reader, protected sex (reader on bc), fucking while on the phone, dirty talk, creampie, squirting, daddy kink

series masterlist

The way your tits bounced in Rafe’s face as you rode him quickly on the large sofa of his mansion was absolutely one of his favorite things in the world.

Rafe had it all. Money, power, status, a family. But his favorite thing, other than his kids, was you.

Your face contorted in pleasure, freshly manicured hands digging all over his broad shoulders and chest as he fucked his cock up into you.

The two of you were absolutely filthy. Addicted to each other.

“Jus’ like that, baby… ridin’ daddy s’good.”

His big hands grabbed fistfuls of your bouncing ass, his mouth leaning forward to capture a nipple into his greedy mouth.

A whimper left your lips, his big, thick cock stuffing your cunt just right.

But then the sound of his phone going off made Rafe groan against your nipple, your pussy tightening around him at the sudden intrusion. He snuck a peak over, his blue eyes rolling when he saw it was his wife.

“Keep quiet, angel. Can ya do that f’me?” He coos, a twisted smirk curling on his lips when you desperately nodded and moved to start grinding against him.

“Good girl…” he grabbed his cell phone, clicking the accept button before holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked, gently guiding your movements to be soft and quiet to not raise any suspicion.

You put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises, hooded eyes looking down at Rafe as he stared up at you.

“Rafe, I’m on the way. Be there in twenty.” Sofia says, before hanging up the phone. Cold and emotionless, always lacking the love they once had many years ago.

Rafe grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had only gotten two rounds with you, and he was hoping for at least four.

“We gotta make it quick, angel. Wife’s on the way.” He spoke softly, throwing his phone to the other side of the couch before his hands found themselves on your waist, his thumbs gently massaging your skin.

You huff, a slight pout on your face. But you knew better than to argue, always wanting to be obedient for your daddy. “Mkay, Rafey.”

“‘m sorry, angel. I know.” He murmured, giving you a sympathetic look as you continued to roll your hips on top of his.

You didn’t respond, leaning down to press your glossy lips to his. He instantly kissed you back, tongue gliding against yours as the passionate, rough, neediness for each other soon returned.

His hips pounded you from underneath, his hands holding your waist as you moaned and mewled into his mouth. The poor couch creaked under the sharp movements, but neither one of you cared.

“Can feel that tight lil pussy squeezin’ me… g’nna cum f’me?” He murmured into your mouth, his own orgasm approaching.

All you could do was nod and squeak a bit, that little brain of yours growing fuzzy. But before you realized it, his evil hand moved to the soft skin of your lower belly and gently pushed.

The sensation instantly had you trembling, your body squirting as you moaned loudly on top of him. “R-Rafe!”

He cursed, one last thrust before he was releasing deep into your cunt.

tags: @jensenacklesballsack @vcnillafairy @svdwlover @angeldiaryy @amterasuu @iyuhni @ethereacals @blushmimi @sweetgoldwoman @sailurmewn @sparkleyprincessa @hpboysslut2707 @ryomensgirll @writtenbyhollywood @glittervame @sweetstrawberrianne @theoraekenslover

[simpforboys]

Slowly getting back into writing, hoping to have part 5 of perv!rafe x topper’s gf out soon

Thank you for your patience :3

[simpforboys]

phone sex with ex boyfriend rafe WHILE ur next to ur boyfriend?

"Stay Quiet, Baby"

Pairing: ex!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), cheating, phone sex, masturbation, voyeurism risk, dirty talk, language, manipulation, angst, possessiveness, toxic dynamics, trying to suppress moans while boyfriend sleeps beside you.

The sheets were warm. Too warm. Not because of the man sleeping beside you — your boyfriend, soft snores puffing against your shoulder — but because of the voice in your ear.

Rafe’s voice.

"Miss me yet, sweetheart?" he had drawled when you answered the call, sometime after midnight. You should’ve hung up. Should’ve ignored the message that said “Can’t stop thinking about how wet you used to get for me.”

But you didn't. Because the truth was… you did miss him.

You missed his voice. His mouth. The way he said your name like it was a sin he loved committing over and over.

Now here you were. Lying on your back in bed, legs shifting under the covers, thighs clenching and parting again — your phone tucked to your ear like a lifeline while your heart pounded so hard you swore your boyfriend might hear it in his sleep.

“God, I missed your little whimpers,” Rafe murmured on the other end, voice low and scratchy, dripping with heat and a smirk you could picture perfectly. “Are you touching yourself yet, baby? Or do you need Daddy to tell you how?”

You bit your lip hard. Glanced to your side.

He was still asleep. Mouth parted. Unaware.

The risk of it made your breath catch.

You whispered, “Tell me.”

“Oh, I will. Slide your hand down. Under those cute little panties I know you’re wearing.”

You obeyed, fingers trembling slightly as they slipped beneath the fabric. Warm, soft heat greeted you. The pads of your fingers grazed your slit — already slick. You gasped quietly.

“Mhm,” Rafe groaned into the line, like he could feel it too. “You’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, biting down a moan.

“Fuck. You always were so needy. Even when you were mad at me, that pussy was mine.”

There was a pause. Then, “Spread your legs wider. I know he’s right next to you. Make it count, baby.”

You swallowed thickly, parting your thighs. The blanket shifted slightly, and you froze. Your boyfriend stirred beside you — a small exhale, a twitch of his hand — but didn’t wake.

Adrenaline shot through you. Rafe heard it.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Fucking thrill of it, huh? Bet he doesn’t know how to make you this wet. Not like I do.”

You were panting quietly now, two fingers sliding through your folds, teasing your clit in slow, tight circles. Rafe talked you through it, voice getting rougher, lower.

“Rub it. Just like I used to. Don’t go too fast. Let it build. You remember how I did it with my thumb, baby?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Yes…”

“Say it. Say you remember me touching you.”

“I remember,” you whispered, breath hitching, “I remember everything.”

Rafe groaned, audibly stroking himself through the phone. “Wish I was there. I’d fuck you slow, right next to him. Watch your face while you try not to make a sound. You’d fail. You always do.”

You stifled a moan into the back of your hand.

Your boyfriend shifted again — a deep breath, turning slightly, hand brushing your hip.

You went still, hand buried between your legs, phone clutched tight.

Rafe didn’t stop. “Did he wake up?”

You nodded before whispering, “Almost…”

“Mmm,” he chuckled darkly. “That’s my girl. Keep going. Use your middle finger. I want you to fuck yourself with it.”

You whimpered — soft, desperate. Your finger pushed in slowly. Heat spread up your spine as you obeyed, your slick folds parting, muscles clenching around the intrusion. Rafe’s voice kept coaxing you, dangerous and sweet, like a poison you missed drinking.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck that little pussy for me. God, you sound so wet. I’d have you dripping on the sheets.”

You moved your hips a little, matching your finger’s rhythm, clenching your thighs to trap the pleasure, to quiet the wet sounds.

Rafe’s breath hitched. “Touch your clit again. Same time. I want you to come with my voice in your ear, while he’s passed out next to you like a fucking idiot.”

Tears stung your eyes at the intensity. It was overwhelming — the shame, the heat, the danger. The fact that one wrong move could get you caught, exposed.

But you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Come and say my name. Just a whisper. You can do it.”

Your hand moved faster, hips stuttering. The pressure snapped tight — unbearable, electric.

And you whispered it.

“Rafe…”

The orgasm hit you hard. A trembling quake through your thighs, your belly, your voice muffled in the pillow as your entire body tensed. You pressed your lips tight together to hold in the sob of pleasure that wanted to break free.

On the other end of the line, Rafe let out a long, low groan. “Fuck… I miss that sound.”

You were still shaking when your boyfriend stirred again — really this time. You yanked your hand out, quickly, fumbling to hang up the call.

He blinked at you sleepily. “Babe? You okay?”

Your breathing was shallow. You nodded quickly, smiling with trembling lips.

“Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

He pulled you closer, settling against you, eyes already closing again.

And all the while, your phone buzzed once more beside you.

One new message from Rafe:

Come back to me