somnoshy

[somnoshy]

does puppy chase squirrels

like she’ll be at the park with rafe—wearing her little frilly sundress and jelly sandals, swinging his arm, mid-sentence about something so dumb like "do you think dogs get bored of the same kibble every day??”—and then suddenly her eyes go wide and she just gasps:

“squirrel.”

and rafe’s like, “don’t you fucking—”

but it’s too late. she books it across the grass, squealing with excitement, stumbling in her platform shoes and chasing after it like she’s gonna catch it and put it in her glittery tote bag. 💀

and rafe has to go chase her down, yelling “stop—stop! what the fuck are you gonna do if you catch it, huh?” and she’s giggling the whole time like it’s a game while he looks murderously stressed.

he always ends up grabbing her by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her back like a naughty little cartoon character:

“you’re lucky you’re cute, i swear to god—next time you see a squirrel, you sit your ass down.”

and she just goes all breathless and apologetic like “sorry… i just wanted to see if it liked me 😔”

he hates how fucking precious she is. he tells her if she runs off again he’s gonna get her one of those toddler leash backpacks.

and she just goes, “oh! can i get a pink one?” 🧸🩷

[somnoshy]

military rafe when reader finds like a stray kitten outside or something and brings it in and wants to keep it bc it was all alone 🙂‍↕️

a/n: i made it a dog cause he’s gives off a dog vibes

you heard the gravel crunch outside long before rafe got to the porch.

he was already calling your name through the screen door, boots heavy, tone sharp like he thought you were hurt or passed out or maybe just making something too quiet.

“baby? where you at?”

you poked your head out of the laundry room.

“don’t be mad.”

his brows furrowed instantly. never a good sign when you said that.

“what’d you do.”

you stepped out from behind the doorway… cradling a muddy, scrawny little dog wrapped in a dish towel. it was shaking, one ear torn, clearly some kind of mutt. your face was so guilty it was almost comical.

“he followed me home.”

rafe stared. and blinked.

“…what the hell is that?”

“he’s a dog.”

“no. no, sweetheart. that’s a sewer rat in a halloween costume.”

“rafe.”

you were already inching toward the kitchen, cooing at the dog like it was a baby.

“he was all alone. just laying in the ditch. he looked at me.”

rafe followed, half-frustrated, half-in-disbelief.

“we’re not keepin’ that thing.”

“just until he gets better. look at him, rafe. he’s skin and bones.”

the dog let out a tiny whimper. you looked down at it with big, glossy eyes and rafe swore he saw your lip tremble.

“you’re gonna cry over a stray?”

“he was cold.”

“jesus christ.”

he ran a hand over his face.

“fine. fine. but he’s staying in the laundry room and we’re not naming him.”

you named him exactly ten minutes later.

“bean,” you whispered. “because he’s small and soft and shaped like a little bean.”

rafe glared at you from the kitchen. the dog sneezed and you gasped like it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

“do not get attached.”

“too late.”

that night, you made a little bed for bean in the laundry room. gave him half your dinner. let him lick peanut butter off your finger while rafe watched in absolute disgust.

“don’t let him on the couch.”

“he’s not on the couch.”

“he’s in your lap.”

“he got scared during the thunder.”

rafe rolled his eyes. but then the dog looked at him. and whimpered. and tucked his broken little paw under his chin like a baby deer.

and rafe sighed. long and slow. and muttered—

“he can stay. just until he’s better.”

you woke up the next morning to find rafe asleep on the couch, bean curled up on his chest, both snoring in sync. rafe’s hand was resting protectively on the dog’s back.

[somnoshy]

Thomas Shelby with glasses 🎀

[somnoshy]

Creepy, Neighbour!König who offers to set up your furniture when you first move in; your eyes lighting up with relief, thanking him profusely for his generosity and kindness.

He’s only doing offering to look for an excuse to be close with you, to hopefully convince you to repay him. He offers to build your desk for your office, occasionally wandering around your home to investigate your bedroom, stuffing a pair of lace panties into his pocket as a souvenir and gift for himself.

To then pound into you while you’re bent over and whining out, head flat and rested against the flat surface of your newly build desk, your trembling hands gripping at the dark oak wood, back arched, with König’s calloused and rusty hands rubbing up and down your waist, smooth skin against his, saw dust still lingering on his palms.

After all, you owe him something sweet for being so generous.

[somnoshy]

by any means necessary — gojo satoru

satoru gets himself stung by a jellyfish on purpose as a last resort to make you piss on him

MDNI, f!reader, established relationship (you’re married), piss kink, satoru being a freak as always, male masturbation, not proofread, pls do not actually piss on a jellyfish sting that’s just a myth

you’re not sure how you fell for it, but the truth is — your husband played his cards far too well this time.

satoru has been acting a bit peculiarly lately, ever since he stumbled upon a rather unexpected story online — a fetish story about piss play.

it wasn’t something he was searching for intentionally; he was simply browsing random threads on reddit when he came across a confession from a husband describing a deeply personal and intimate experience involving his wife pissing on his cock during sex.

to say it didn’t do a number on him would be a lie. surely, he’s thought about this from time to time before, but this particular story unlocked something in him, a new fantasy. he started thinking about it more — having you piss on him or around him (or anywhere near him, to be honest), just the imagery of it made his cock twitch and leak. and surely, he was sneakily doing things to make it actually happen, be it even by finding different ways to test your boundaries and seeing how far he can go before you give in.

he began to pressure your bladder more during sex, on purpose — pushing his cock as deep as he can while pressing down on your lower abdomen. he was being a true menace, but unfortunately to him, you’d always make him stop or stubbornly hold it in — although you knew it was a matter of time before you make a mess all over him if he kept that up… it’s not exactly a child’s play to make a man of his size stop with your bare hands. your bladder has its limits too…

that’s not the only thing that’s changed though.

he’s always liked to follow you to the bathroom after sex and watch like a lovesick puppy while you pee, but lately he’s developed a new habit that’s turned into a ritual of sorts — he likes to crouch down beside you and rest his head on your knee while you do your thing. sometimes you catch him sniffing the scent of your stream, and you wonder if he’s hoping some of it would splash on his cheek (judging by the way he almost always tries to oh so subtly spread your legs).

“what do you think, baby”, he once told you, “would it be too crazy if i asked for a taste of your pee” — and you had to push his head away, because something in his tone and the crazed look in his eyes made it clear this wasn’t entirely a joke… you could definitely sense the intent behind it.

this fantasy was truly consuming satoru and truth be told, to him, it didn’t seem so out of reach… you’ve already shared everything, crossed so many lines and tasted each other’s bodily fluids. pre, slick, spit, cum, period blood — all of it and everything except that… and of course, satoru being satoru, he wasn’t going to stop there.

fortunately for him, your beach getaway had sparked the perfect idea to finally turn his desires into reality. the timing couldn’t have been better.

he once read that the best remedy for a jellyfish sting was to have someone pee on the affected area. maybe it was just a myth, but that little piece of information, whether right or wrong, was about to play a surprisingly crucial role in finally making you give in to him. because of course you’d run to your husband’s aid if he got stung by a jellyfish, right?

it was now or never.

you’re lounging on your deckchair and sipping on a drink when satoru leans over to press a soft kiss to your head before heading toward the sea for a quick swim to cool down.

but, three minutes in — he’s back. walking slowly, one hand held protectively over the inner of his thigh.

“shit—“ he mutters under his breath. “i think it stung me”

“what?” you sit up, a little concerned. what could possibly get to a man with a cursed technique like his?

“a jellyfish”

“a jellyfish? stung you?” — it’s hard to believe. even special grade curses have a hard time landing a blow on him, but some random jellyfish just happened to sting him so casually while he was barely out there for three minutes? odd. maybe he let his guard down — it’s vacation, after all, it is the normal thing to do. but then again, your husband is not a normal man, he’s gojo satoru and he only ever turns his CT off when he’s around you. only then. which makes this whole thing feel even more suspicious. very odd.

“yeah, and it hurts”, he hisses, voice pitched in discomfort. he’s clearly in pain — although you know satoru. part of you is aware he’s overreacting as he always does, your husband is dramatic over a stuffy nose if it means you’ll baby him for a few hours. but still, sometimes your own brain works against you, convincing you he really is fragile in some secret way, like maybe his skin that is untouched by the world thanks to his technique is just more sensitive to things like that.

little do you know, he’s acting.

the sting is real, of course — he didn’t fake that. but he did take a poor jellyfish and purposefully slap it against the inside of his thigh, conveniently close to somewhere far too delicate to be accidental; like his cock. and yes, it hurt a little, but on a normal day he wouldn’t even flinch.

“it really burns”, he whines again, voice breaking into a higher pitch.

“okay, big boy, let me check online and see what we can do, because i have no idea”

“i— ugh”, he clears his throat, schooling his face before he can crack a smile, because everything is going exactly to plan. “i actually know, i read it before — peeing on the sting can help”

you want to say that sounds absurd, but then it does ring a bell — you’re pretty sure you’ve heard it somewhere. “i’ll check though. sounds like one of those weird myths”

“no—” satoru yelps, cutting you off just a bit too quickly. “i read it in a magazine! national geographic!” he adds for credibility, lying without a blink and pairing it with his best expression of teary-eyed agony.

“okay, then pee on it”, you suggest flatly.

“i can’t do it myself”, he says instantly.

“…your cock is big enough — i’m sure you can aim”

“but i don’t feel like peeing”, he pouts, lower lip jutting. “can’t you do it for me?” he adds with puppy eyes.

“me!? you want me to pee on you!?”

“if you’re okay letting me suffer, then fine”, he sighs dramatically, lowering his gaze and even panting a little harder while prodding gingerly at the sting with two fingers.

he almost looks pitiful, and you know it’s that part of your brain working against you again — this situation stinks and you know it, but you fold anyway.

“…okay”, you finally mutter.

you both head to the nearest restroom — one of those awful portable ones that already feel like coffins for a single person, and now you’re crammed inside with your giant of a husband because you can’t exactly pee on him on the beach in front of everyone.

he slides his swimwear down and perches on the toilet lid, legs spread for you to aim at the sting. you remove your bottom too, trying not to think too hard about how ridiculous this all is.

“and now what? how do i even do this? where do i go? there’s literally no room for me” you complain.

satoru taps his lap and says “here” and then, without waiting, he guides you down until you’re straddling him, his big hands on your hips, gripping a little too hard (only natural, he’s been waiting for this moment way too long). “you’ll have to squat a little so you can aim”, he adds.

you cover your face with hands. “this is so embarrassing”

“…but i’m in pain”, he pouts again. “i’m suffering”, he keeps insisting — “you think i’d choose this?” — but his voice cracks just slightly at the end, although he covers it up with a sad sniff.

you huff, shifting your weight as you try to get into position while his hands are helpfully adjusting you, lingering a little too long on your thighs, and… not to mention how the tip of his cock bumps against your belly — he’s up.

“you’re way too hard for someone in agony”, you narrow your eyes and paw at his tip.

“i’m always hard around you”, he says. “this is considered the flaccid state of my penis ever since you came into my life. i have no control over it — you do. plus, your pussy is right in front of me, how do you expect me to stay calm?”

while it’s true — satoru is surely always horny around you — this was not the case right now; he was simply way too excited to finally have you piss on him and he could not believe his plan was actually working.

you snort, slapping his chest — “pervert” — you whisper before looking down, trying to position yourself properly and focus while blocking out the awkwardness of the situation. “stop staring, it makes me nervous”, you huff.

“you’ve peed countless of times in front of me. now’s not the time to shy away”

“in front of you, not on you”, you correct him. “this is… just weird”

after you make sure you’re positioned well enough, you close your eyes and count down internally — 3…2…1 — before you start to release it, your own urine falling in a stream on your husband, some of it running down between his thighs and even sprinkling on his cock in the process.

for all his convincing performance up to this point, satoru drops the act the second it starts.

“nghhhh” — you hear him, but it doesn’t exactly sound like a wince of pain, it sounds like a moan. a second later, a solid spray that comes in spurts hits you in the belly, which is when your eyes snap open and land on satoru — his mouth agape, eyes half-lidded, pupils slightly blown, he is pumping out his load with his fist as you piss on him. he was, in fact, sneakily stroking himself the entire time while your eyes were closed.

“…you—what the hell”, you gasp.

his gaze meets yours, quiet and breathy moans still seeping from his lips. “oh f-fuck”, he mutters, his body slightly jerking from the release. he wasn’t actually planning to get busted, he only wanted to sear this moment into his brain and jerk off to it later, but he clearly underestimated the experience and didn’t consider he’d cum this quick. it was worth it, though.

“you’re not in pain”, you squint at him. “you liked this”

he hesitates, but then grins. he’s absolutely guilty but also just as shameless. “more than i imagined, actually”, he laughs.

“imagined?” your mouth drops open. “don’t tell me you planned this… i knew something felt off the whole time, but i can’t believe you went this far”

“well” he shrugs, not even trying to deny it. “i’ve been wanting to try this for a while. but who knew it’d be so healing? i don’t feel the jellyfish sting anymore”

“you freak”

“kink haver”, he corrects you cheekily. “and for the record, i think we should do this more often. you have great aim”

you smack your hand against his chest, but you don’t move off his lap.

[somnoshy]

Megumi who lures you in, befriending you, just so his dad can have a companion………..

Megumi doesn’t often invite his friends over, if ever. it’s why you jump at the opportunity when he extends the invitation, asking if you’d wanna spend the night so you guys can study as much as possible for some midterm exam. why wouldn’t you agree? he’s cute as hell, stoic and quiet, but looks at you in ways that make you hot under the collar when he thinks you’re not looking.

it’s amazing, hanging out at his place, drinking nasty beers and snacking and doing everything but study. it’s amazing—until it’s not.

until his dad comes home, and lingers a bit too closely to you. sits on the couch beside you as you all watch a movie, placing a hand around your shoulders with too much familiarity. he chides you for spilling your beer softly with a brush of his knuckle against your lower lip, takes the drink away from you altogether, like some overprotective dad lording over you.

you look at Megumi for help, but he’s looking at you with that same look that convinced you to come over in the first place.

the night is amazing, until it’s not, when Toji has laid you across his lap, petting you softly under your clothes while Megumi watches. when he kisses gently at your tears and hugs you to his thick chest, murmuring, that you’re gonna be a great addition to the family.

“d’you want her to be your sister or your mom? it’s your choice,” Toji tells his son, his voice leveled as he presses your pelvis down against Megumi’s lap, having shifted you so you’re splayed out in front of him. his mouth is on your clit and you try to push him off, try to cringe away at his words, but his tongue laves up and down your cunt until you’re teary eyed and shaking.

Megumi hums, ponders his answer for a while. he tips your chin up until your wet glazed over eyes meet his, pursing his lips slightly as he rubs a salty trail into your skin. “a sister,” he says after a while, watching the way your teeth grit when Toji shoves his tongue inside of you, drool thick and syrupy against you.

“welcome to the family,” Toji hums before latching soft lips around your clit and sucking until your entire body shudders. he pops off when you start clawing at the both of them, mouth wet, his fingers itching to stretch your hole just to watch how good you take it. “daughter.”

[somnoshy]

you’re sitting on the couch, little baby girl in your arms as you breastfeed her.

everything is calm. tranquil. peaceful.

except…

“‘toru, cut it out.” you scold satoru gojo sitting next to you, blue eyes glowing with annoyance. he grumbles, muttering incoherent nonsense through his pursed lips.

“jus’ don’t get why she gets to suck your tits all day and i don’t,” he huffs. you only sigh, not bothering to look at him anymore.

“she is a baby. you are a grown man.” your baby coos as she keeps feeding, little eyes blinking with faint sleepiness. he only whines, scooching closer to be face-to-face with his enemy.

“you took my spot,” he whispered, pouting with an over-exaggerated scrunched nose. she only giggles, accidentally kicking his face with her tiny, clothed foot.

“i— wha— did you see that?!” he cried, holding his face in obvious pain and pointing at the innocent little thing.

“‘toru, shut up! she’s falling asleep,” you hissed. he only groans, stomping away to your room to soften up the baby’s crib brood.

a couple months (of agony) later, satoru’s gently lifting the hem of your shirt, your precious alone time finally being granted after your daughter falls asleep.

he lightly kisses around your chest, sucking slightly before his tongue reaches your nipple. a sour, yet familiar feeling touches his tastebuds.

“uh, lemon?” he asks, slightly chuckling, but also, very amused.

“oh, i’m trying to wean her. i figured using lemons is pretty good since she doesn’t like sour stuff so…” you explain.

all satoru heard was victory.

[somnoshy]

| your daughter not recognising satoru after he cut his hair !!

you didn’t expect him to actually do it.

he’d been threatening to for weeks, though. “it’s too hot,” he’d whine, flopping onto the couch, long white strands falling into his mouth. or “i’m basically shedding,” while brushing out his ends with your comb. always followed by: “i’m cutting it all off, you won’t even recognize me.”

you always hum, unconvinced. “you’d never survive the heartbreak.”

turns out, you were right—just not your heartbreak.

it starts the second he walks through the front door. he’s grinning, proud of himself, sunglasses still pushed up into his now much shorter hair. you don’t even get the chance to greet him because your daughter—the sweet little toddler that she is—just stares.

like he’s an intruder.

“…hi,” he says, smile twitching a little.

her tiny brows scrunch up.

then she points. “mommy? who’s that.”

you blink. look at gojo. look back at her.

“baby,” you start gently, already smiling, “that’s daddy.”

her nose scrunches. “nuh uh.”

gojo’s voice jumps an octave “excuse me?”

your daughter doesn’t even flinch. she hugs your leg tighter and mumbles, “you’re not daddy. he’s pretty.”

gojo blinks. “…i’m pretty though.”

“no you’re weird,” she says matter-of-factly. then she looks up at you like she’s concerned. “who is this man?”

you try to hold it in, but it bubbles up in a laugh, your hand flying to cover your mouth. gojo shoots you a look—devastated, betrayed, offended.

“you’re laughing at my pain,” he accuses.

“you look like you’re about to cry.”

“because my own daughter called me ugly, sweets.”

“no she said weird.”

“that’s worse!”

you shrug, trying to stay calm while your daughter peeks around your leg again, eyes narrowed. “maybe you should’ve waited until after bedtime to go and get an identity crisis.”

he glares. “this is discrimination against people with good bone structure.”

“you cut your hair, satoru. not your jawline.”

“she doesn’t care about my jawline,” he whines. “she liked the fluff. she used to call me cotton candy.”

“okay, well. she also tried to lick your head once.”

“it was endearing!”

you’re giggling again when he crouches down to her height, eyes soft now, voice quiet.

“hey,” he says. “i know i look different, but it’s still me. promise.”

she stares at him. considers. then lifts one small hand and gently pats the top of his head.

“…you feel like a hedgehog.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing out loud.

gojo groans. “i shaved off my parental rights, didn’t i.”

but she’s still standing there, little hand still petting him. her frown has softened into something closer to curiosity now.

“you talk like daddy,” she says.

“yeah?”

“and you smell like daddy.”

“that’s…. weird—”

“…maybe you are daddy.”

“thank you!”

she sighs, like she’s doing the world’s heaviest emotional labor, and then opens her chubby arms for him to pick her up. gojo does immediately, practically cradling her like she’s been lost at sea.

“daddy,” she whispers seriously, “next time ask mama first.”

“yes ma’am,” he breathes, resting his cheek against her head like he’s just been forgiven by god himself.

you roll your eyes with a grin as he mouths ‘she loves me again!!’ over her head.

—

taglist - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto

[somnoshy]

Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly.

[somnoshy]

um.

[somnoshy]

simon doesn't take you somewhere lavish for your honeymoon - no, no, he needs to take you somewhere quiet, remote. a place where he can make you scream and no one is gonna come knocking.

remote cabin in the woods with only a landline that connects you to the outside world. he wanted remote and he found it. no one for a good few miles.

you pouted when it wasn't a trip to italy or somewhere less isolated. but your husband patted you on the top of your head and leaned in, emphasizing your height difference.

"don't worry about it, doll. honeymoons are meant for two things, making the marriage stick and making a baby."

you quickly learned why he was so keen on a location so quiet because before even the bags were unpacked, his large, rough hands were on you. pushing up your shirt and kissing your neck - you could feel the scars of his face across your heated skin.

he doesn't stop once, nor does he stop twice. you lost track of how many times he's finished inside of you. then rolled you on your back to stick his thick digits in you to give the boys a fighting chance. you think he just enjoys feeling his hot cum stain your pussy - marking territory.

even the facial he gave you or the few times he pulled out to cum all of your stomach. it all felt like marking territory. that's what you were right? even had the ring to prove it.

"just accept me, doll. takes two to make a baby. i did my part, now do yours." his thumb teased your clit, "c'mon, make me a daddy, doll. be a good little wife. doesn't take during our little trip then i am more than happy to get a few noise complaints in our flat."

your pussy clenched around his digits, which only aroused him more. it wasn't long before he was fucking you once more. his voice a low grumble in your ear, "take it, doll. take it. be good and make me a dad." before he gave you sloppy, messy kisses across your face.

he'd fuck you until you drained his balls if it meant that you'd be locked down with him. he was a man of determination and he'll happily inspect that pretty pussy every morning and fold you into a mating press to make sure there was a squirming baby in a year's time.

that's why it wasn't a shock that you ended up with a honeymoon baby, five months of marriage and five months pregnant. simon was right, a honeymoon was for two things because the marriage stuck an in four months you'd have a riley brat at your hip. and you knew it wouldn't be the last one, especially when you saw on simon's laptop the booking page open for the same cabin for your one year anniversary. <3

author's note: how does the easter bunny stay fit? eggsercise and hareobics

[somnoshy]

Streamer König with a discord server where he abuses his power and influence over his female fans to receive nudes.

[somnoshy]

the concept of suguru mocking your whimpers and whines as he absolutely destroys you on your couch.

you two know that your roommate could come back anytime soon, how easily you could get caught — and yet somehow, suguru manages to hypnotize you with each slow and delicious snap of his hips.

“ah,” you gasp, its a high pitched sound and your hands reach for his shoulders for support. your nails dig into his skin, eyes focused on when your bodies connect. “f-fuck.”

“ah,” suguru mimics your noise, pulling his cock all the way back before slamming into your pussy again. his teeth sink into his bottom lip to suppress the wicked grin that’s spreading across his face, he’s too proud of the fact that you look like a mess.

your eyes shoot upwards, and suguru hates how his heart lurches in his chest.

pretty eyes are glossy all over, your lips bruised and plump from being kissed so passionately by him, then your mouth quivers and a hand rests on his chest.

“you’re mocking me,” you say it with so much sadness, but your pussy flutters around his cock and suguru groans as he buries his face in your neck.

“sweet girl,”

“o-oh!” he spreads your legs, pushing your thigh open with one hand as he grips the skin. this gives him a better angle, allows him to go deeper than before and it’s evident in the way your body tenses up at the feeling.

“oh yeah?” he questions, voice bordering on breaking too because fuck does it feel good to be destroying you.

“y-yes!”

“yeah?” he asks again, his cock dragging deeper and harder against your walls, his hand wrapping around your neck. “let me fucking hear you. come on. come on baby—“

a high pitched “suguru!” echoes through the living room of your apartment, the couch moves away from its original spot with how hard he’s fucking you.

even after you cum, even after he sees your soul escaping your body, not once does he slow down nor does he show mercy. he continues to fuck into you, mean strokes near sending you to the after-life with how desperately you’re gripping his shoulders.

begging, pleading with him to take it easy on you.

“p-please, no more—“

“nah, you’ll take it.” and he means it, his hand pushes you down on the couch and he pins you there.

because suguru doesn’t just fuck to fuck, he likes to play with you and leave you a babbling mess even after you cum.

[somnoshy]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

[somnoshy]

pairing ; babydaddy!rafe x babymomma!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ mild toxic themes, brief mentions of pregnancy, slight angst, suggestive language.

NOTES ⭑.ᐟ this is in fact one of my first works, so thank u for reading ! remember that all content you consume is your own choice.

WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ 1.2k.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ feedback, reblogs, etc are much appreciated and encouraged!!

it was late.

late enough that most of the neighborhood was asleep, leaving the house quiet aside from the giggles coming from your living room.

rafe had come over to drop off some of your daughters clothes that were left at his house, deciding to stay for an extra hour or two per your daughters request— opting to put her to bed.

you’d stayed out of his way, like you usually did, not wanting to give him the impression that you missed him, even if you did— you were cordial. you invited him to birthday parties, family gatherings that included your daughter, keeping him up to date when it came to vacations, and letting him come over when you wanted to go out.

rafe acted the same way he did before your daughter was in the picture. he was more attentive than he was back then, more considerate and consistent with the time he reserved for you both, but still impulsive with his actions.

“y’gonna stay in here and avoid me the whole night, baby?” his voice rang out from the doorway, snapping you out of whatever trance you were in before. you turned your head to look at him, setting the sponge you were holding against the counter, letting out a sigh.

“you’re here for june,” you mumbled, your eyes slipping to the floor. “not me.”

he let out a gruff hum, his jaw ticking when you looked away from him, raising a brow as if he didn’t know why you didn’t wanna look at him. his boots shuffled on the floor, walking closer to you till he was leaned against the counter, eyes raking over your form. he crossed his arms again, staring back at you. “what, you— you seein’ another guy?” he accused, letting out that familiar scoff you knew all to well.

your brows furrowed at his assumption, letting out a quiet huff of air, lifting your head to look at him. “what are you talking about, rafe?” you sighed, already feeling the tension build.

he let out a dry chuckle, like what you said was funny, before biting the inside of his cheek. “you think i don’t know why you’re bein’ like this? why you’re avoiding me every chance you get?”

he took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to curl around your jawline, lifting your head up further to meet his gaze. “you miss me,” he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours. “i know you do, quit denyin’ it.”

you listened to him speak, your lips parting to reply, before they slipped shut again. you couldn’t think straight— not when he looked at you like that, not when he stared at you like he knew you inside and out, not when he knew you. his lips turned up into a smirk, sharp canines peaking out at you like he knew something you didn’t, like he always did.

“c’mon,” he mumbled, his face coming closer to yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “you think i don’t know you that you miss me? you think i don’t know that you miss the way i fucked you?”

your breath hitched, catching in your throat as the words died on your tongue, staring up at him with bewilderment swirling in your eyes. your lips parted again, until—

“daddy?”

the word was quiet, soft from the doorway, little june standing there in her blue pajamas with her stuffed bunny clutched in her arms. rafe’s hand dropped from your face, walking over to her with a smile in replacement of that condescending smirk. “yes, sweetheart?”

he bent down to pick her up, her cheek immediately smushed against his shoulder, mumbling quietly into the worn fabric of his t-shirt. “can y’tuck me in?”

his expression softened completely, nodding his head without another thought, stroking her back with a calloused hand. “yeah, baby, yeah— ‘course i can.” he murmured into her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

her eyes flickered to meet yours, a soft yawn escaping her pink lips, as her lashes fluttered sleeping. “g’night, mama..” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with a lazy fist.

rafe turned to face you again, that familiar gleam returning to his gaze. “yeah, goodnight, mama.”

you watched his retreating form move up the stairs, hearing the soft mumbles falling from his lips as he whispered to her, holding her close like he never wanted to let her go.

you let out a sigh, fingers curling around the marble countertop— you were fucked.

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

[somnoshy]

pairing ; exboyfriend!rafe x exgirlfriend!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ exes, flirting, mild swearing, descriptions of parties & alcohol, suggestive language.

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 🐆

your breakup had been labeled as amicable by your friends, your family, basically half the damn island.

the only person who couldn’t accept that it was over was rafe cameron himself. phone calls that went unanswered, flowers delivered to your doorstep, gifts shipped to your address, paying for your hair and nail appointments— like you were still together, like he didn’t go on a coke rant months prior.

despite all of this, you relished in this. you relished in the way he obsessed over you, the gifts and flowers never failing to put a slight grin on your face, despite insisting that he meant nothing to you— that your relationship meant nothing. but you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when you were in the same social circle.

you ended up at a typical tannyhill party, kooks pouring out from the entrance and into the yard, loud howls of laughter mixing with the booming music. you were clad in a strapless mini dress, courtesy of rafe’s card, the floral print being a soft contrast against your skin, with white heels that curled around your ankles.

you were leaning against the bar, fingers curled around the red plastic, pink lips against the white rim, your eyes scanning the rest of the room. a presence slipped beside you, a warm hand cradling the curve of your hip, the low rumble of a hum against your back.

“hey, baby.”

you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“how you doin’, huh?” he mumbled into your ear, the smell of his cologne overriding your senses. his hand slipped over your hip, curling around your waist, pulling you back against him with a light tug.

“what’re you doing here?” you asked, dodging his attempt at casualty, taking another sip of the vodka filling your cup, your body tensing against his chest as he hummed quietly.

“what am i doing here?” he repeated your question, repeating it as if it was ridiculous, like you were stupid for even asking a simple question like that. “m’at a party, baby, with my ex girlfriend taunting me in a dress that i bought.”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, chewing at the plump muscle, your lashes fluttering in the dimmed light of the mansion, your fingers tightening around the cup. “you didn’t have to come.”

he let out a laugh, his lips pressing against the skin of your shoulder. “you wanted me not to come, huh? that it?”

he pulled you closer against his chest, his fingers digging into the side of your dress, pulling you closer against him. “wanted me not to come so you could eye-fuck other guys, huh? so you could grind your body against these motherfuckers who couldn’t care for you like i could?”

you let out another scoff, your arms crossing over your chest as your eyes flickered to meet his, a sight scowl tugging at your lips. “don’t flatter yourself because other guys would move on— unlike you.”

he tightened his grip against your hip, tugging you back against the hard muscle of his abdomen, his biceps bulging against your arms. “don’t pretend you don’t love it, princess. i see those french tips— i know you took the money.” he mumbled out, his fingers splaying over the surface of your tummy.

his lips brushed against your neck, the fabric of his polo shirt brushing against your back exposed by your dress, tugging you tighter against his chest, pulling on you like you were his personal toy. his hand slid off of your stomach, moving over your ass, giving the fat of it a roughened squeeze, just like before. “lemme know when your next nail appointment is, baby.”

with that, he turned and slipped away from you, flashing a grin at you from over his shoulder, disappearing into the crowd of rich kids with too much coke in their system, with money in their pockets and yachts to spend their summers on. you watched him leave, biting into your bottom lip to stop the grin that threatened to spread over your lips, adjusting the hem of your skirt from where his rough hand was.

you knew you couldn’t resist him, and it was only a matter of time till you found your way back to him.

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

[somnoshy]

pairing ; bluecollar!rafe x spoiled!reader

WARNINGS ⭑.ᐟ suggestive language.

NOTES ⭑.ᐟ you’re responsible for the content you consume.

WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ less than 1.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, & requests are appreciated and encouraged.

“baby, y’don’t need another bikini.”

he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes searching your face, biting back a smirk as he watched the pout form on your lips.

he’d gotten off of work over an hour ago, picking you up from your house, before driving you to the beach. you had dragged him into a local bikini shop in the center of tannyhill, holding up a pink bikini with a sweet pout rested on your plump lips.

“but it’s so cute, rafe!” you replied, fluttering your lashes at him with a gleam in your eye, the necklace on your neck glimmering in the dimmed lighting of the shop. it was a cute bikini, till he realized you owned at least six bikinis at home that looked identical to that one, despite your insistence that you didn’t have one like this one and you absolutely needed it.

he shook his head, walking over to you after pushing himself out of the chair he was occupying, grabbing the hanger out of your hand, “lemme see the tag, babydoll—“

his eyes bulged out his head, the $60 dollar tag staring back at him in mockery as he gawked at you, his brows furrowing further as he read the tag over, over, and over again.

“darlin’, that’s outrageous.” he murmured, his forehead creasing as he looked back at you. “sixty dollars for a bikini that barely covers your tits?”

if he thought your pout couldn’t deepen— it somehow did. you amped up the pitiful look in your eyes, your fingers curling around the thick muscle of his bicep, attempting to pull his body closer to you. “but rafey— look how cute it is! i don’t have a bikini with this pattern.”

he stared back at you, taking in the furrowing of your brows and the glossy sheen your lips had, his restraint slowly slipping away from him, his fingers tightening in the fabric. finally, a defeated sigh left his lips, reaching into his back pocket, fingers curling around the leather of his wallet. “alright— grab your size, baby, let’s go.”

you let out a squeal, pressing a glossy kiss to his cheek, skipping off to the racks to find your size, giggling at the defeated look on his face, watching him stand near the entrance.

he guided you to the register, handing the cashier his card, grimacing at the grand total of $62.85. staring back at him, unable to be bothered when he saw the happiness in your eyes. his fingers laced with yours, guiding you back to the truck, watching the way your free hand swung with the bag in your hand. “thank you, rafey.” you hummed, pressing a kiss against his jawline.

he hummed at your words, opening the passenger door to the truck for you, smacking your ass with a rough mumble. “y’better be thankful, baby.”

you buckled yourself in, setting the bag between your legs, feeling the rumble of the truck engine underneath your body. his hand found purchase on your thigh, fingers digging into your inner thigh as he squeezed at the fat. “y’gonna lemme pull them bottoms to the side later on, baby?”

your cheeks flushed, a chuckle leaving his lips at the smack you delivered to his forearm, pretending like you weren’t pooling in your panties at the thought.

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