shy reader just like this 🥺 and kissing rafe’s forehead when she’s pounding tf out of her
omg stopp!!!
when rafe's in a mood like this—you don't say anything, you don't have to. you know your boyfriend well enough by now, letting him do what he needs to when he comes home with stress from one place or another.
you have been, since the day he met you, rafe's favorite form of stress relief.
it's not long before you're naked in his bed, your skirt pulled off and shirt in tatters, thrown onto the floor. rafe's still in his clothes—somehow he always is and you're always naked—but you can't bring yourself to mind right now, with the way your boyfriend is slamming into your sore pussy, battering in and out while you lay back and take it.
rafe's rough, some part of him always has been and always will be. considering how long it took you to convince him to even try to be rough with you, you should take this as an accomplishment.
you look down at where the two of you are joint—the way he slides in and out, your wetness shining on his dick and the obscene noise it creates each time he pushes back in. you're wetter than you'd even realized, so caught up in your head that you forgot your body has always reacted primally to rafe's without any action needed from you.
you look until you can't look anymore, looking up at rafe's face, blinking eyes focusing in on his face—eyebrows twisted in concentration, beads of sweat on his forehead. it's all hot, everything is tight and tense and wet, and you're sure to finish in moments, because it never takes rafe long to tip you over the edge.
but you try to hold off, shaky breaths and moans filling the space between you. rafe grunts, picking up the pace and slamming in and out, his hands tight on your hips. you're helpless but to watch, the noises leaving you in rhythm with his motions.
he's concentrated—always is when he's using your pussy like a toy. you'd be a filthy liar if you said you didn't like it.
"r-rafe," you get out, the word a moan and squeal combined.
"shh, s'okay, just take it, kid-"
that's all you need to hear, leaning in and pressing a fast, light kiss to his forehead. you don't know you do it—just that it feels right. if possible, rafe goes faster.
you fall apart first, rafe right after. when you lay back, whole body shivering at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you, rafe returns the kiss, pressing a longer, sweeter kiss to your forehead.
"what was that for, huh?" he asks you, and you seem to have lost all your words.
"i don't know," you mumble, staring up at your boyfriend from your position in his arms, sticky bodies pressed together. "just felt right. i love you."
just when you're about to fall asleep, spent and limbs exhausted, you hear it, the words from rafe preceded by a soft laugh that makes your head spin.
"i love you too, kid."
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...When your Profound Bond enables you to see what the interdimensional wavelength of celestial intent is actually thinking about questionable presents, feat. Sam Puppy Face Level 9000
(ie: I was trying to explore the concept of Dean being the only one able to see Cas' extremely sassy floaty bits)
Happy Holidays everyone, I hope you've been safe, warm, loved and full of sugar and/or cheese. (Sorry this is late, I've been recovering from said sugar/cheese overload)
(Please don't repost, but do leave me a tip if you feel so inclined, it's much appreciated.)
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