#rafey⋆˚࿔

[kittykatinc]

inspired by request | rafe unintentionally makes you cry

“Can you just—fuck, I said right there,” Rafe snaps, pointing aggressively at the engine while you fumble with the flashlight.

You shift your grip, trying to get it where he wants, but your hands are shaking a little now. It’s hot, and his tone is making your chest feel tight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Dude, just—why is this so hard for you?” he says, frustrated, wiping sweat off his forehead. “You’re literally just holding a light.”

You go quiet. You don’t say anything, just stand there blinking fast because if you speak now, you’ll cry. And you really, really don’t want to cry in front of him over something this dumb.

But a second later, your eyes are already watering. And he sees it.

“Wait,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Are you—are you crying?”

You quickly look away, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

“Babe,” he says, quieter now. “Shit. I didn’t mean to—hey. Hey, come here.”

You still don’t look at him, just hand him the flashlight and step back.

“Don’t do that,” he says, sighing. His voice is softer now, not angry anymore. “I didn’t mean to yell like that. I’m just pissed at the truck, not you.”

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he mutters, walking over to you. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’m a dick. I know. I’m sorry.”

You stay quiet, but your hand grips his shirt, and that’s enough for him.

“I’ll be nicer next time,” he says, resting his chin on top of your head. “Promise. Just don’t cry, okay? Makes me feel like the biggest asshole alive.”

You mumble against his shirt, “You kinda are.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

[littlelamy]

───kissing while climaxing

his lips doesn't leave yours—not even for a second. every thrust is met with a desperate, open-mouthed, spit-filled kiss. "fuck, baby—" his voice is rough, breaking between the slick sounds of him driving into you. his grip is tight at the back of your neck, holding you in place, forcing you to take his gasping moans against your lips. "you feel so good, so fucking tight—"

his tongue slides against yours, sloppy, needy, like he’s trying to swallow every sound you make. he’s close, and you can tell— by the way his hips stutter and how his groans turn more broken.

"kiss me, baby please—" he demands, almost a whimper, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. "keep kissing me—don’t fuckin’ stop—"

his body tenses, shudders, and then he breaks, moaning straight into your mouth as he spills inside you, hips jerking, fingers digging into your skin. he groans against your lips, deep and wrecked, his cock twitching with every pulse of his release.

even as his body trembles and continues to gasp through the aftershocks, he doesn’t stop kissing you. slower now, sloppier, like he’s still drunk on the feeling and needs your mouth to keep him grounded.

"fuck," he breathes, pressing one last, lazy kiss against your lips, completely spent. "you’re fucking perfect."

tags (lmk if you want to be removed; using the list from my recent series): @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @emluvsuxo @rafestoothbrush @cadhlabear

[drewsctover]

my fav misunderstood boy

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི my bunny girl decided to mess me up with her late night thoughts! I had to write this. made it all pretty just for you!!! mwah mwah lovee youu!! @bunnyrafe

 𐙚 : icky!rafe x reader 

𐙚 warnings: this is pretty nasty so if you’re not into this kind of thing I wouldn’t read it. 

𐙚 rafe being icky, corruption, innocent reader, use of the word “dad” & “daddy”, 18+ mdni

when you finally let him hit he’s over the moon. he’s so nasty. measuring his cock to your stomach. getting to see how big it is against it. it’s reaching past your belly button. & you look up at him with wide doe eyes, hiccuping, asking him “is it gonna hurt daddy?” “do you think it’ll fit?” he taps his cock against your tummy making you jump. “nah- it’s- you’re going to feel so good.” he wasn’t lying. it was going to feel good. really good. eventually. he lines his cock up with your wet cunt. the sight of it almost makes him cum right then and there. “daddy…maybe we should try this another time? I’m a little scared” he cuts you off giving you a sharp slap to your cheek. “what did I tell you about that shit? what? you-you don’t trust dad?” tears start to brim up in your eyes. the last thing you wanted was to make him upset. “no no no I trust you daddy! I promise!” he smirks when he hears you spewing out apologies. bullying his cock in your little hole. not giving you any time to adjust.

now you’re over the moon. he corrupted you. you have never felt anything like this. it felt so so so good you didn’t want him to stop. you wanted him to use you just for his pleasure. it didn’t matter what it was. the sounds that filled the room were adding on to that fuzzy feeling that you felt every time you were around him. skin slapping. ah ah ah’s leaving those pretty lips. rafe moaning, growling, about how good your little pussy makes him feel. you were so sooo sticky and wet. creaming around his cock. feeling it kiss your cervix over and over again. those doe eyes staring up at him. asking, no, begging him for more. clawing at him wanting to be in his skin. he’d pull out every now and then watched you as you whimpered, squirmed. & whined. “please please put it back in daddy!! please!!” he loved watching that cute pussy clench around nothing. watching it beg to be wrapped back around him. “shittttt bun I told you it’ll feel really good. look at you. can’t get enough, can you? going all dumb for my cock.” 

he had finally gotten what he wanted. what he dreamed about after seeing your cute little ass at Tanny Hill a couple of months ago giving him sweet eyes.

[rafesbambiangel]

the puppy eyes. the pouty lips. I CANT DO THIS 😭😭😭

[cameronsbabydoll]

what made the reader wanna leave ex-husband rafe?!

rafe’s need for control. his obsession with appearances. the way everything was always on his terms.

he spoiled her, sure — designer bags, luxury cars, vacations — but every gift felt like a collar. every sweet moment had strings. he wasn’t outright cruel... but he was possessive, intense, and sometimes careless with her feelings in the way powerful men like rafe cameron are.

and after they had their son? it got worse.

he wanted her home. looking perfect. playing trophy wife. no career moves unless he approved. no social life unless he orchestrated it. no decisions without his sign-off.

“you don’t need to work, baby — that’s what I’m for.”

“you don’t need friends like that — you’ve got me.”

“you don’t need to worry — i’ll handle everything.”

until one day, it wasn’t love anymore — it was suffocation.

the last straw?

maybe he showed up late, drunk, flashing that cocky smile, throwing money at the situation like it solved everything. and she saw their son look at him — wide-eyed, confused, a little disappointed — and something in her snapped.

she realized... this was the man their little boy was learning to become.

and she refused to let that happen.

[ivesdrew]

FELT GOOD ABOUT YOU . . .

CHAPTER 1

warnings: hangover, previous alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, swear words

AAAAAAAAA so fucking ecstatic about starting this smau like i'm lierally jumping up and down. i'll be making a taglist, so lmk who wants to be added!!

[ervotica]

BRAT'S INSTAGRAM

rafe cameron x brat!reader

brat is your typical kook princess. prissy, a little stuck up, and has a taste for the finer things in life. she's got fangs and she's not afraid to use them, so watch out for spiteful words and sharp acrylic nails coming your way. she's a total nymphomaniac, of course (like rafe would have it any other way!) but not quite as evil as first meets the eye. sure, she's a princess, but she won't stand for injustice. and - much to rafe's displeasure - she became fast friends with the pogues. collectively, her and jj maybank make rafe's life miserable. but ward approves of her, wheezie comes to her for girl talk, and rafe - albeit begrudgingly - loves her very much. don't cross brat!reader, she might just hurt your feelings!

check out the tag rafey and brat for more of these two!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.” 

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

--

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

--

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head. 

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

--

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-” 

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions. 

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

--

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going. 

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

--

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away. 

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.” 

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

--

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you. 

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you. 

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin. 

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[rafeys-angel13]

needy!reader and rafe

summary: you’re a professional at getting attention from rafe.

warnings: slight boobie feelin’

writers notes: if this flops i’ll freak the freak out

-

rafe knew how clingy and needy you were when he met you, he saw the way you’d grab your friends arm at any given moment.

you weren’t attention seeking. you just wanted attention. that’s what rafe liked about you.

you weren’t like the attention seeking girls who would do anything for a guys attention. you just wanted to be acknowledged by the people you love and rafe thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever.

this morning was a quiet one, you both woke up late and stayed in bed for ages.

you read your book and rafe works on his laptop. one-handed, as you had draped your legs over his lap. of course his first instinct is to rub your soft calves and thighs.

though, as soon as he got distracted by his work and moved his hand away to type something you’d shoot him a glare that you thought was intimidating, yet he thought it was the cutest thing in the world and had to hold his laugh back everytime.

“sweetheart, i’m trying to work here.” he chuckles softly and brings your foot to his mouth, kissing the top of it before setting it back down.

“but i like when you rub my legs…” you whine.

“i know, baby. you know, every time i let go i always come back. i’m not going anywhere, sweet girl…” he explains softly, squeezing your thigh for emphasis.

he’d lost count of how many times he’d gave you this speech but the way you look at him through your eyelashes when you listen to him makes it worth it everytime.

“but i want you to touch me all the time…” you sigh, moving to you’re straddling his lap, hands on his shoulders for support.

“i get busy sometimes, my love… i’d touch you every waking minute of the day if i could.” he smiles and kisses your neck softly, his laptop and your book now discarded on the bed and forgotten about.

you hum softly at his kisses and wrap your arms around his neck as his hands slip under your shirt, grabbing your breasts gently. he lets his thumbs graze your nipples for a second before sliding his hands to your back and running them down your back.

“you smell so good in the mornings, baby…” he murmurs, his lips pressed against your collarbone. you smile slightly at his words and bury your face in his neck.

“you too…” you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, your eyes scrunching up as rafe chuckles, rubbing your back.

“look at me for a second, angel…” he pulls his face away from your skin and leans it back against the plush headboard.

you pull away from his neck and look him in his baby blue eyes.

“there she is…” he smiles, grabbing each side of your face gently and peppering soft kisses all over your face. you giggle and try to pull away.

your giggles turn into belly laughs and he pulls away to see you laugh, it’s his favourite sight to see. the way you always fall against him and laugh into his chest or shoulder.

you catch your breath and your grip tightens on him, he strokes your back softly.

“you’re such a sweet girl…” he smiles down at your pretty face, admiring you.

your cheeks turn pink and he kisses each of them.

“i love you” you manage to speak between the giggles that are slowly dying down.

“i love you more than you’ll ever know, princess. you’re so so special.” he presses a kiss to your head.

the moment of silence makes him realise, yet again, that you had distracted him from his work to get attention. you’d mastered the art of distraction. he didn’t know whether to be mad or proud.

“you little minx” he presses yes another tender kiss to your cheek, squeezing you in his big, safe arms.

[kittykatinc]

rafe shows up to your house with blood on his face

You hear the knock before you see the time. Three soft taps. Even. Unhurried. You don’t even have to check. You already know who it is. Your stomach turns, but your feet move anyway.

When you open the door, Rafe’s standing there—bruised and bloodied. Again.

There’s a smear of red across his jaw, some dried at the corner of his mouth. His nose is still bleeding a little, and his knuckles look like he punched a wall, or a person.

His eyes lock onto yours, and the second he sees your face, he exhales. “Hey, baby,” he mutters with a scratchy edge to his voice.

You don’t say anything. Just open the door wider.

He steps inside, brushing past you like this is routine. Like this isn’t the third time this month. You shut the door, slowly.

He leans against your kitchen counter, swiping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s not mine,” he says casually, like that’s supposed to comfort you.

It doesn’t.

Still, you don’t say anything. You head to the sink, grab a washcloth, run it under warm water. You hear him chuckle softly behind you. “You’re mad.”

You’re not. Not really. Just scared. Worried. But you don’t want to give that to him right now. You don’t want to feed whatever this part of him is.

When you turn, he’s already watching you. Waiting.

You walk over. Hold the warm cloth to his face.

He flinches, just a little, then lets out a breath and leans in. His eyes flutter shut, like your touch calms him down. “You always take care of me,” he murmurs, lips brushing the air near your wrist. “Even when you look at me like that.”

You pause. “Like what?”

He opens his eyes, smirking. “Like I scare you.”

You don’t respond. You just keep cleaning him. Careful, quiet. His hand drifts to your waist at some point, fingers resting there like it’s normal. Like this is just your thing now—late nights and blood.

“Still love me?” he asks after a beat. You roll your eyes, but your hands get gentler. He smiles, “You do.”

And even though you don’t say it out loud, you think he knows.

Because a few minutes later, he’s dozing on your couch with his head on your shoulder and your fingers are in his hair, quietly tracing circles. You might be mad. You might be scared. But when he’s here, with you, it's when you feel the safest.

[littlelamy]

you rolled your eyes when he pulled the camcorder of the thrift store bin like it was the holy grail, and now he never puts it down.

“wave to the camera, baby.” his voice is syrupy behind the lens, lazy and slow. you’re in the kitchen, hair a mess, silk robe barely tied, flipping pancakes with your manicured nails. “c’mon, smile.” you look over your shoulder, sleepy and amused, flipping him off with the spatula. he laughs, and zooms in on the curve of your bare thigh peeking through silk.

“look at you,” he murmurs, zooming again. “my filthy little housewife you like playin’ the part?”

you shrug, biting your lip. “only if you eat every bite of what i make.”

“oh, i’ll eat something,” he says, and the camera dips for a second as he adjusts his grip, adjusting himself.

he catches you brushing your teeth next, wearing nothing but your sheer robe and a pair of fuzzy socks. leaning in close, camera tilted, he gets the foam at the corners of your mouth, the sleepy pout you give him when you realize he’s still filming. he doesn’t stop...ever. “tell it who you belong to,” he says suddenly, stepping into frame, hand curling around your throat gentle but firm. “that’s right...say my name.”

you giggle, toothpaste dribbling a little down your chin. “you’re fucking ridiculous.”

he tightens his grip just enough. “say it.”

you stare into the lens, pupils blown. “i belong to you.”

“say my name.”

you whisper it, tongue thick with mint. he growls, smacks your ass through the robe, camera catching the jiggle. “good fucking girl.”

later, he records you reading in bed. warm lamplight, legs tucked, oversized tee swallowing your frame. you don’t even notice him at first, you were too into the paperback. until the lens catches the hem of your shirt riding up your thighs, and his hand slips under the blanket. you shift, sigh, open your legs instinctively.

“still filming?” you whisper.

“uh-huh.”

you grin, toss the book aside. “you’re a pervert, rafe.”

“im your pervert,” the camera focuses on your face as his fingers start playing with you open under the blanket. making your lips part, hips roll, and thighs twitch.

“look at me,” he murmurs. “don’t look away...i want this on tape. want to remember exactly how you look when you cum.”

your voice breaks. “ugh rafe—don’t stop.”

“you gonna cum for the camera, baby?”

“yes, yes—fuck, just please—” the footage cuts to black just as his fingers pull out, licking it off his hands. just as you reach for the camera yourself.

“my turn,” you whisper.

ᡴꪫ tags below

taglist𑄽𑄺: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @st8rkey

[sugarcandydoll]

rafey in this shirt was so handsome wish there was more screentime of him in it ♡🤭💕

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི heavily inspired by @shawtycoreee !! read her blurb and I had to write another concept that flew to my brain. also @nemesyaaa for making me come out of my shell!!! this is my first writing piece so please be nice. Hope you enjoy!!

𐙚 where reader makes a homemade video just for stalker!rafe.

𐙚 warnings: use of the word “Daddy”, slight mention of kidnapping, 18+ mdni

You knew all about Rafe Cameron’s ways. You also knew just how deeply he fell for you. In his mind you were all his and nobody else’s. “god I could take you away and never bring you back. Make you my little kook princess,” he thought. You were all he thought about. Every second. Every minute. Every hour. Day and night.

It was the next day and Rafe had been out all night doing business. When he reaches his front door he sees a hard drive lying on the ground. “What the hell,” he thought. When he picks it up to get a good look his eyes widen at what he sees. There was a pink note taped to it. “For my obsessive stalker, enjoy!”

Rafe quickly went upstairs to his room. Locked his door and put the hard drive into his computer. He was shocked by what he saw. His cock instantly bulging in his pants.

That night you were feeling unbelievably horny and a little bit risky. The clocked ticked as you laid in bed. You tried to sleep it off but it wasn’t working. The more your pussy started to throb the more you thought about Rafe and you knew you had to do something.

You go down to the basement to find your families old cam recorder. The one that they used to film family trips and holidays on but it was no use anymore. As you tip toe back up into your room you set the camera right in front of you.

Rafe begins to take his pants off. Rubbing his hard cock. You begin to strip. First your shirt, that showed the outline of your perfect tits. Then you laid back on the bed spreading your legs revealing the wet spot on your painties. “Do you see what you do to me Rafey? You make me so incredibly horny.” You slowly start to take them off and your folds are just glistening. “Such a perfect little pussy,” he said to himself. You began to slowly rub your clit. Biting your lip to keep quiet. Your back arched as you rubbed your nipples with your other free hand. Letting out some of the most beautiful moans he’s ever heard. You spread your pussy open letting him examine it with his eyes. “Can’t wait for you to stretch me out Rafe. I can’t wait to feel your cock inside of me.” You say in that sweet voice that makes his cock throb. The way your pussy pulsates makes him so weak in the head. He couldn’t lie. This was better than any porn he’s ever watched. This felt better than any girl he’s ever fucked. He was completely pussy whipped. You began to slowly fuck yourself. Then speeding up. “I wish this was your cock Rafe. I need you so so so bad. I don’t want anyone else,” you say in between breathy moans as your pussy makes wet squeaky sounds. He chuckled to himself when he heard you say that. “I know princess. I-I want to stretch you out so bad. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you.” He watched as your chest started rising and falling fast. As your voice became more high pitched. As cum started leaking out of your pussy. It was enough to send him beyond over the edge. He started bucking his hips. Fucking his hand. His eyes closed shut and his mouth open letting out whimpers and moans. His eyes open when he hears your sheets rustling and you giggling on the other side of the screen. “That was fun! I’ll see you soon. Bye Rafey!” You blow a kiss to the screen and then it turns off. “Soon. What does she mean by soon,” he thought.

[twobitsblade]

tutor!rafe helps mouthy!reader with math

rafe playfully tossed the textbook at your stomach at the sight of your math test—a c- after two months of practice. the action made you let out a slight, sharp yelp.

"ugh, be serious, i need help—you promised," you whined petulantly, jutting out your bottom lip at the gesture.

he smirked, rolling his eyes. "i don't get you. i've been working my ass off tryna get you to actually learn, and it's like nothin' gets into that pretty head of yours." he tapped your forehead for added effect.

in response, you swatted his hand away. "paws off, rafey," you exclaimed, clicking your tongue, shaking your head, and opening your textbook.

"you're clearly not doing your job right, mr. smarty pants," you mocked, lips curled into a grin he recognized all too well. lord, how unserious you were. yet, unlike the other kids he peer tutored, you weren’t bratty or busy skipping class to join gangs.

he sighed, pulled out his phone, and opened spotify—the one app you forced him to download, wanting to "make a blend" with him, whatever that meant.

"recite the derivative of in(x) or else i’m playing that multiplication song. full blast."

you raised an eyebrow. “are you serious? we’re not in elementary school anymore.”

"as a heart attack, sweetie pie.”

you whined, racking your brain... but still nothing.

you resorted to simply biting your lip and batting your eyelashes. that had worked with all the other boys, no? but apparently, he'd had his fair share of girls like you and wasn't falling for it.

"ugh, rafe, i don't get it!" you whined, hitting your clenched fists against the pale pink blanket you two sat on.

“well then get it,” he said in a nasally imitation of your own voice.

“jesus, what kind of tutor even are you, cameron?”

“a free one that the school provided. now shut up and actually write something on the damn paper,” he said, grabbing your phone to reduce the distractions—or so he claimed.

eventually, you sighed and realized he wasn’t letting up, so you began to somehow focus. despite all the crap you gave him for “being a terrible tutor,” you were actually starting to understand the material.

but god forbid you admit that to him.

[lvve-talks]

WINNER TAKES ALL ·⁀ ༄.°🎾 ₊⭒˚｡⋆

🏸˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ coach!art x reader x tennisplayer!rafe 2.3k words jealous art, age gap (art is mid-late 30s, you and rafe are 20s), voyeurism, art calls rafe "kid" but everyone is adults!!, 18+ mdni this is a rewrite of this fic !!

You are Art Donaldson’s star student. In his eyes, you are the brightest star in his sky, damn the sun. Frankly, he thinks you’re an angel come down to earth, flying through the air in those little white pleated skirts. They emulate the feathers of a dove, your racket reaching over your head like an olive branch, an offering to bring peace to the world. Unable to do any wrong. Golden, perfect, pure.

And then came along Rafe Cameron. All cockiness and aggression, if his rich parents weren’t paying him so much for private lessons, Art would’ve dropped that rich, preening bastard long ago. 

Rafe had his sights set on you since the very first day he arrived to the court for lessons with Art. There you were finishing up your own lesson, little white pleated skirt that showed a glimpse of your underwear every time you jumped to return a ball.

He makes sure to talk you up while you’re packing up your things, all dazzling, country club smile. 

“Hey,” he offered in simple greeting, leaning against the chain link while you slide your rackets back into your bag and dab at your sweat-soaked hairline with a towel.

“Hi,” you smiled back. You find him pretty, a little rough around the edges, but you knew the type of guy he was. A spoiled rich boy with eyes that looked like they were hiding something. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he tells you like he’s not the one just starting lessons. That was the only time you ever spent time at this club anyway.

Immediately, Art didn’t approve. Watching from across the court with eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching extra tight with each chew of that minty gum in his mouth. Art said Rafe was a bad influence on you, despite him being the one infatuated by his much younger student. You were innocent and perfect, and at least he was looking out for you. Making you better. He could tell just by looking at Rafe that he’d only make you worse. He’d corrupt you with his crudeness and discard you when he got bored, leaving your heart broken. That’s how it always went with those types.

Art typically tried to keep the two of you apart, keeping your interactions to a minimum. But he saw how you started taking more time to stretch after practice, drawing your lithe limbs above your head and bending extra low whenever Rafe arrived for his lesson. Lingering. Waiting.

And every time he’d see Rafe’s eyes on you he’d snap “Let’s go, Cameron, warm up,” making sure he was occupied with something else.

Then you suggested he double up your lessons. Something about a scrimmage for practice. He said no for weeks as you kept bugging him about it. “Trust me, he’s nowhere near your level. It’s not going to do a thing for you,” Art insisted, explaining it away like it’d be a disservice to you to even step foot on the same court as Rafe. In his eyes, it would be.

The day he finally gave in, he regretted it the second he saw Rafe’s cocky smile directed right at you from across the net like he had a single chance. He watched you go easy on him for a full set before he told you off for it. “We’re not gonna do this if you’re not gonna play right. What did I tell you about creating bad habits?” he scolded. He was always on you about muscle memory; teaching your body to respond a certain way the first time was a lot easier than reteaching it later. At least he got the satisfaction of watching you take Rafe’s ego down a peg after that.

But then… God help him.

He was walking by the locker room after practice, a towel slung over his neck and his racket bag on his shoulder when he heard it. It sounded like you were crying out in pain, and he nearly dropped everything to rush in and help you when he heard what came next. His voice.

“Fuckk you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Rafe groaned. 

Art froze. He couldn’t move a muscle. He was standing just inside the doorway, unable to see where Rafe had pinned you up against a row of lockers, thrusting deep inside of you and drawing out the most perfect sounds he’s ever heard. Just listening. He felt like such a pervert, but he couldn’t leave, not when you sounded like that.

Every whine and moan sounded like the choir of heaven in his ears, it could almost drown out each disgusting word the other boy was grunting in your ear.

“You like this? Letting me fuck your brains out where anyone could hear? What if Coach heard his perfect angel getting railed like a slut in the locker room?” Rafe hissed in your ear, loud enough for him to overhear in the echo off the concrete bricks.

Art had to make himself leave after that. It was too close. And he was far too hard from hearing the way you cried out even louder at that image. The idea of him witnessing you in that state. Getting off on it. Maybe he wasn’t the only perv here.

After that incident, your lingering after practice stopped altogether. Instead, you were rushing off to the locker room. Checking your watch every minute for the last ten minutes of your lesson. So much so that he had to scold you for it. “You have somewhere to be?” he asked incredulously, raising his blond eyebrows at you and making sure he kept you there, with him, until the very last possible minute.

Not only that, but Rafe started showing up to his lessons late. Swaggering onto the court with mussed hair and red marks halfway hidden under the collar of his polo. It was driving Art out of his mind, making him more and more irritable with the kid, making him run extra drills over and over, hoping his hands would bleed or something in his shoulder would tear and he wouldn’t be able to touch you like that anymore.

It finally got to the point where he had to sit you down at the end of your lesson to have a talk. You were fidgeting in your seat on the bench, your gaze constantly flicking to your watch or back towards the locker rooms. Your knee was bouncing so anxiously, he had to reach out and lay his big hand on your thigh to keep it still. His hand was warm on your flesh, squeezing gently to finally pull your attention back towards him.

“I don’t think rafe is a good influence on you, sweetheart,” said the perv who fists himself every night thinking about the way you sounded on someone else’s cock.

You tilt your head in confusion at him, looking like the sweetest little puppy and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from squeezing your leg too tight.

“I’m moving your Tuesday lessons to Mondays,” he finally said with a sigh. No more overlap with Rafe. No more lingering, no more running off, all of your time would be his.

“What?” you sputter. As long as you’ve been with him, you’ve had lessons every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, and now all of a sudden he thinks he can change things with a snap of his fingers?

“Rafe’s taking your spot so he can have the earlier time,” he sighed as if it’s all the rich kid’s fault and not his own selfishness.

“Why does he get priority?” you scoffed. “And what the hell does this have to do with his ‘influence’ on me?” You were clearly skeptical of his intentions here. What the hell would he know?

“Well, I know you have the availability on Mondays and his parents are paying me a ridiculous amount of money for his slot.” he shrugged, like there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. “And don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here,” he gestured between you and the locker rooms with a flick of his finger, finally addressing what has been irking him for over a month.

“What? What’s going on here?” you asked accusingly, raising your eyebrows expectantly at him. Was he really about to call you out on this? How did he even know about your little trysts with Rafe in the locker room? 

You knew the way he treated you was a bit… favoritist. The way his eyes lingered on your legs during stretches, how his hands stayed on your skin or your waist for a bit longer than necessary when he’d come in close to correct your form. You weren't oblivious.

“You’re ruining your focus on your game for some kid who couldn’t give a fuck about you. I can’t let you do this, sweetheart, you know you’re going places. Only place he’s going is the country club,” Art scoffed, his patience running thin.

But you’d heard enough, gathering your things and storming off to the locker rooms, leaving Art to hang his head in his hands and remind himself that he’s doing the right thing. 

This time when Rafe’s late to practice, Art’s already pissed off. Five minutes late turned into fifteen and he couldn’t take it anymore, storming off the court and towards the locker rooms.

He doesn’t bother stopping outside this time, walking right to the back of the room where Rafe is busy plowing into you from the back, your hands splayed against the lockers as you’re bent over at the hips.

Art slammed his hand against the hollow metal to catch your attention, both of your heads instantly shooting to the side to look at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“What the fuck?” Rafe grunted, stilling inside you, but Art’s eyes were only on you. 

Even as he said, “You’re late.”

But you’d had enough of his attitude today. The look in your eyes turned defiant as you held his gaze, pushing your hips back against Rafe’s again. “He’s busy,” you stated flatly. You weren’t shying away or covering yourself up. You wanted him to see exactly what he had been imagining this whole time.

Rafe grunted and gripped your hips tighter, his gaze flicking between the two of you with his brows furrowed in confusion. What was this game happening in front of him, this volley of wills?

Art rolled his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like he’s even getting you off like that,” he scoffed. Rafe’s face scrunched up in offense, opening his mouth to protest, but then you’re grinding your hips back on him again, and all he could do was groan.

“How would you know, Coach?” you dug at him again, eyes narrowing at him.

“I know what pleasuring a woman sounds like,” he answered like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And he knew you’re too competitive not to take it as a challenge.

It didn’t take long for Art to have your back pushed up against those lockers, one knee pressed into your chest with his grip on the back of your thigh and his length bullying you open. He dragged his hips back slowly before snapping them up into you at an angle that makes you see stars, your nails clawing at his back as you cried out with each thrust.

Rafe’s watching your fucked out face over Art’s shoulder, still almost too stunned by everything to do anything but fist his own cock at the sight. Normally, he’d have something to say about some guy swooping in and taking over his girl, but the dynamic was almost pornographically hot. Your tennis coach of all people coming into the locker room to fuck you right in front of him.

Art’s big hand pressed against your stomach, feeling how deep he was fucking into you and making you cry out in mind-numbing pleasure. “Feel what you were missin’ out on, baby?” he murmured against your neck as he pressed kiss after kiss to your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, wherever his lips could reach. “Runnin’ off to let some spoiled kid rut into you instead of staying with me?” 

You could hear the possessiveness in his voice, and it almost made you feel guilty for all those times you ran out of practice as fast as you could to meet with Rafe instead. But then again you probably never would’ve had him fucking you this good without it.

“‘m sorry, Coach,” you whined in his ear and it made him let out a low groan, his hips snapping up even harder at that. 

“Fuck, you should be,” he huffed into your ear.

His hand that wasn’t practically holding you up came down between your bodies to rub at your neglected clit and you’re instantly clenching tighter around him, your head falling back against the locker with a clanging sound drowned out by a near pornographic moan. He cursed lowly again at the feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice grip, and he knew you were close.

“C’mon, baby, show Rafe what it actually sounds like when you’re cumming all over a cock,” he muttered in your ear and that’s all it took for you to fall apart.

You swear you nearly black out from the pleasure and its only a matter of time before he was pulling out of you and spilling his own release in thick ropes onto your stomach with a chorus of groans and “fuck”s and “so fucking good”s.

After a long moment of nothing but a choir of panting breaths in the air, Art turned his head to find Rafe still sitting on the bench behind the two of you, his hand and stomach covered in the sticky evidence of watching the two of you like his own personal porno.

“Lesson’s cancelled today,” Art huffed at him before he was turning his attention back to you, lowering your leg back to the ground and practically carrying you back to the showers to get you all cleaned up.