sweet4rafe

[sweet4rafe]

Heres some fics I think are low-key farmer!reader

Ignore the fact there’s so much red, red is such a farmer colour

omg i love these so so much, i swear i sob a little anytime someone sends asks ab her🫶🏼🪽

[sweet4rafe]

Shopping for bikinis and found this, why does it remind me of farmer!reader

yes yes yes. shes sooo rocking this all summer long

[sweet4rafe]

i adore your theme !! holy moly

this means so much to me especially comin from u ur blog is majestic 🤍

[sweet4rafe]

BUTTONED UP ˎˊ˗

summary: rafe’s always seen you as the quiet, modest farm girl, pretty in your sundresses, always polite. but when he catches you sneaking off behind the shed with your notebook full of very unholy fantasies, he decides to help you act some of them out.

you weren’t trying to get caught.

it was supposed to be a quick break, just you and your little leather notebook, tucked behind the toolshed where nobody ever goes. the grass tickled your thighs where your dress rode up, but you didn’t care. the air was warm, and the ink flowed easy from your pen.

you had just written, “his hands are rough, but he touches her like she’s made of something sweet”, when a shadow dropped over your page.

“the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

you flinched so hard your notebook damn near flew. and of all people, it had to be him.

rafe cameron stood there with a lazy smirk, arms crossed, cowboy hat tilted back just enough to let those pretty eyes linger all over you. he was shirtless, again. and he knew what that did to you.

you scrambled to sit up, tugging your dress down. “were you—were you spying on me?”

“nah,” he said, slow drawl dripping with amusement. “just came to get the hedge clippers. didn’t know i’d find you out here writin’ porn in the dirt.”

“it’s not porn,” you snapped, heat flooding your face.

he raised an eyebrow, reaching down to pluck the notebook right out of your hands. “mm. sure about that?”

“rafe,” you warned, standing up to grab it back. he held it over his head.

“lemme see what the innocent little farm girl’s got goin’ on in that dirty brain,” he teased, flipping through the pages, reading lines out loud in that stupid deep voice of his. “he smells like sweat and summer, his fingers make her forget her own name.. damn, sweetheart.”

you reached up again. “give it back!”

but he caught your wrist, tugging you close.

“didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“i don’t!”

he leaned in. “really?” his breath tickled your ear. “then who the hell you writin’ about, huh? any other cowboys ‘round here got you this bothered?”

you swallowed. your thighs clenched without meaning to.

rafe noticed.

“jesus,” he muttered, laughing under his breath. “you gettin’ worked up just from me readin this?”

“shut up,” you whispered, embarrassed and burning.

he looked at you for a long second, long enough for your stomach to flip.

then, gentle as ever, he handed the notebook back.

“you ever wanna know what those lines feel like instead’a readin’ ‘em,” he said, voice low, thumb brushing your knuckles, “you just let me know."

you just stood there, notebook clutched to your chest like it could shield you from him. but rafe didn’t move, didn’t blink, just looked at you like he could read your thoughts without needing the pages.

“well?” he asked, voice a little quieter now. “you wanna know?”

your breath caught. “know what?”

he smiled, but it wasn’t cocky. more like… he already knew what your answer was. like he’d just been waiting for you to catch up.

“what it feels like,” he said simply. “all that stuff you wrote.”

your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“i—i don’t…” you looked down, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. “i’ve never—”

“i know,” he said, voice gentle now. “you ain’t gotta say it.”

he stepped a little closer, and your back hit the shed wall. his hand came up, rough palm cupping your jaw so carefully, like he was scared to spook you.

“i’d be soft with you, baby,” he murmured. “slow. let you feel it all.”

his other hand settled on your waist, fingers splayed wide over the cotton of your dress. not moving. not rushing. just holding you there.

and that’s when it hit you; he wasn’t teasing anymore.

rafe was serious. not just with his words but with his eyes, clear, steady, like he wasn’t just looking at your body, but straight through it. through all the little walls you built around yourself, all the wide eyed stammering and fake confidence.

“you don’t gotta do nothin’,” he whispered, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “but i’d take care of you. promise.”

you could barely breathe.

your head nodded before your mouth caught up. “okay,” you whispered. “okay…”

and when his lips finally met yours, warm, slow, tasting like mint and summer heat, you finally understood the line you’d written. the one about forgetting your name.

because all that existed in that moment was him.

and the soft press of his hands.

and the way you already wanted more.

june's angels : @stoned-writer , @alphabetically-deranged

[sweet4rafe]

𓏲 taglist — comment 2 be added

@stoned-writer , @alphabetically-deranged , @pinkiebeetle , @princessb-r , @sosunnybunny , @bungurus , @mypeachsoul , @princesspowerr6 , @ohgodimgoungtodie , @oiii1213 , @dreewsepj , @lynoriax , @itsmoonia , @marilynmonroeloverr , @whiplash222 , @alexxavicry , @greenwichcake , @spillingoutmygutsforyou , @c8lap1nto , @jensenacklesballsack

[sweet4rafe]

HANDS-ON LESSON ˎˊ˗

summary: your dad lets rafe help out around the farm, and he takes it upon himself to teach you how to ride. not just the horses. you’re inexperienced, all shy smiles and hesitant touches, but rafe is more than happy to guide you through it.

your daddy had always been protective, especially when it came to the ranch hands. "stay away from them boys," he’d say. "they ain’t nothing but trouble." but rafe cameron? rafe was different. at least, that’s what he made you think.

you’d never been much of a rider. you helped around the farm in other ways, picking berries, baking pies, tending the garden, but your father had decided it was time for you to learn how to handle a horse. and rafe? well, he took it upon himself to be your teacher.

"put your foot in the stirrup, sweetheart," rafe murmured, standing close behind you. his hands found your waist, calloused fingers pressing into the soft fabric of your dress as he helped you hoist yourself up. your cheeks warmed at the touch, but you did as he said, gripping the saddle with shaky fingers.

he climbed up behind you, his chest pressing firm against your back. "good girl," he muttered, voice thick like honey. his breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"i don’t know if i can do this," you admitted, gripping the reins a little too tightly.

rafe chuckled, one hand sliding down to rest against your thigh, the other covering your hands. "that’s what i’m here for, darlin’," he drawled, squeezing gently. "just relax. let me take care of you."

the words sent a different kind of shiver through you, one that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way rafe’s fingers traced lazy circles against your leg.

the horse started to move, slow and steady, but your mind was no longer on the ride. not when rafe’s touch lingered, teasing. not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering things you’d never heard from any other man.

"see?" he murmured. "told you i’d take care of you."

and somehow, you knew he wasn’t just talking about the horse.

the warm scent of hay lingers in the air, mixing with something headier, something distinctly him. rafe sits back on the haystack, his legs spread wide, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes as you settle between them.

"c'mere, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, something that makes your stomach flip. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "you sure you wanna learn?"

you nod, too eager, too trusting.

his lips quirk into a smirk. "then listen real close, yeah?"

his voice is steady, guiding. patient in a way that has your skin burning. his large hand wraps around yours, leading it where he wants, slow and deliberate. "spit on your hand, sweets," he drawls, his tone teasing. "makes it easier."

your breath catches, fingers trembling slightly as you follow his instruction. he hums in approval, his head tipping back against the wooden beams. "just like that," he praises, voice roughening as you get bolder, more confident. "twist your wrist, there you go, baby, just fine."

his chest rises and falls, the warm glow of the barn lanterns casting shadows over his sharp features. he watches you the whole time, eyes dark, half-lidded, lips parting slightly as you pick up his rhythm.

"start from the base," he instructs, his voice barely above a whisper now, hoarse with restraint. "then work your way up—ah, shit, just like that."

his hand threads into your hair, not pushing, just guiding. his breath is uneven, fingers tightening slightly as he tips his head back against the wood, giving in to the pleasure, to you.

outside, the crickets chirp, the night carrying on as if nothing’s changed.

but in here, in the quiet hum of the barn, everything has.

[sweet4rafe]

masterlist ☆ミ

before you read, all of my fics have a cowboy!rafe x farmer's daughter!reader pairing.

first time, in which :

the handsome cowboy hired by your father to help around the farm has been eyeing you, for weeks. on this fateful summer evening, rafe finally decides to do something about the attraction he felt towards you— his employer's daughter.

hands-on lesson, in which :

your dad lets rafe help out around the farm, and he takes it upon himself to teach you how to ride. not just the horses. you’re inexperienced, all shy smiles and hesitant touches, but rafe is more than happy to guide you through it.

buttoned up, in which:

rafe’s always seen you as the quiet, modest farm girl, pretty in your sundresses, always polite. but when he catches you sneaking off behind the shed with your notebook full of very unholy fantasies, he decides to help you act some of them out.

[sweet4rafe]

FIRST TIME ˎˊ˗

summary: the handsome cowboy hired by your father to help around the farm has been eyeing you, for weeks. on this fateful summer evening, rafe finally decides to do something about the attraction he felt towards you— his employer's daughter.

the barn smelled like hay & fresh wood, warm even with the night air creeping in through the gaps in the beams. you were used to it, used to the quiet hum of crickets outside, the occasional rustling from the horses in their stalls. what you weren’t used to was him.

rafe was leaning against the old workbench, arms crossed, watching you with that lazy sort of gaze that made your stomach feel tight. he’d been helping your dad with repairs all week, sleeves pushed up, hands always busy with something, lifting, hammering, fixing things you never paid attention to before. you’d barely spoken more than a few words to him, but the way he looked at you now made it feel like he already had you figured out.

you wiped your palms on the front of your dress, swallowing hard. “shouldn’t you be heading home?”

he tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you tryna get rid of me, berry girl?”

your face felt hot. that’s what he called you after catching you out in the fields, basket in hand, fingers stained red from fresh picked fruit. like he thought it was cute. like he thought you were.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head, “just… my daddy don’t like me talkin’ to boys much.”

“yeah?” rafe pushed off the bench, closing the space between you. he didn’t touch you, just stood close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “good thing i’m a man, then.”

your breath caught. he was teasing, you knew that, but it didn’t make the heat pooling in your belly any less real.

his hand lifted, fingertips ghosting over the end of one of your braids, tugging at the ribbon tied at the end. “s’cute,” he murmured. “all done up like this. makes me wonder if you’ve ever had someone mess ‘em up before.”

you shook your head, wide eyed, not trusting yourself to speak.

“thought so.” his fingers brushed your jaw next, tipping your chin up higher. “you ever been kissed, sweet?”

your silence was answer enough.

“shit,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “shouldn’t be looking at me like that, then. makes me wanna ruin you.”

your knees nearly buckled at that, something unfamiliar twisting inside you. your inexperience must’ve been obvious, because rafe hummed, guiding you back until your spine met the wooden stall behind you.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, voice low. “just a little taste. lemme show you how it feels.”

your lips parted to protest, but rafe was already there, dipping down, mouth slanting over yours. it was softer than you expected, but only for a moment. then he was tilting his head, deepening it, swallowing the tiny noise that slipped from your throat.

his hands found your waist, gripping firm as he pulled you flush against him, and oh, you felt him. thick and hot, pressing into your stomach through his jeans.

you gasped, pulling back slightly, and rafe just smirked, breath fanning against your lips. “you feel that, baby?”

you nodded, dazed, fingers clutching at his shirt.

“s’all for you,” he murmured, sliding a hand lower, gathering the hem of your dress. “if you wanna stop, tell me now.”

you didn’t. couldn’t.

so when his fingers slipped between your thighs, you let him.

his fingers traced along the inside of your thigh, warm and rough, calloused from days of working under the sun. you shivered at the touch, your breath hitching when he dragged them higher, teasing.

“you’re shakin’, baby,” rafe murmured, his lips barely grazing your jaw. “nervous?”

you nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. you’d never done this before, never even thought about doing something like this in the barn, of all places, but rafe was looking at you like you were something to be devoured, and the way he touched you made you feel like you could trust him.

“don’t be,” he soothed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, a stark contrast to the filth spilling from his mouth. “gonna take care of you.”

his fingers finally dipped between your legs, brushing against the cotton of your panties. you gasped, instinctively trying to press your thighs together, but rafe clicked his tongue, prying them back apart.

“none of that,” he chided, amusement lacing his tone. “lemme see how sweet you are.”

he pressed down, slow and deliberate, rubbing tight, lazy circles over the fabric. a whimper escaped your lips, your back arching slightly against the wooden stall.

“fuck,” rafe breathed, watching you. “this all for me?”

you nodded, of course it was, it had only ever been for him, but the confirmation made something dark flicker in his eyes.

“such a good girl,” he murmured, slipping his fingers beneath your panties, dragging them through your slick. your whole body tensed at the foreign sensation, hips twitching as he spread it over your clit, circling it with the lightest pressure.

“rafe,” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for, but he understood.

“shh, just let me do it, baby,” he soothed, slipping a finger inside you. your walls fluttered around the intrusion, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome. rafe groaned, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “fuck, you’re tight.”

your breath came in soft, uneven pants, your fingers gripping his shoulders. he moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, before sliding a second finger in, scissoring them carefully.

“you’re takin’ it so well,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, making you look at him. “feel good?”

you nodded frantically, unable to speak, pleasure buzzing through you like nothing you’d ever felt before.

rafe smirked, leaning in to press a messy kiss to your lips. “bet you’d feel even better wrapped around my cock.”

your breath hitched at his words, the insinuation making your head spin.

rafe pulled back just enough to gauge your reaction, fingers never stopping their slow, torturous pace. “you want that, baby?”

your thighs trembled, your answer coming out in a desperate, breathless whimper.

“yeah?” rafe chuckled, fingers curling just right, making you keen. “then you better hold onto me, sweetheart. ‘cause i’m about to show you what you’ve been missin’.”

[sweet4rafe]

a wildflower tangled in the wind, soft hands stained with earth and honey ˎˊ˗・ june. she. eighteen. pisces.

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