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forestmossling · 1 month

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as is pretty obvious, the rockstar! eddie has not yet left the premises of my brain and will be staying there indefinitely so here’s a little something.

no upside down au, 2010s, eddie doesn’t know anyone from the party, but dustin finds out about this rockstar who writes songs about his dnd campaigns and makes tolkien references, but his music is also raw and haunting, so obviously he’s obsessed. he bothers steve about him until steve forfeits and buys them both tickets for the show in indianapolis. steve’s deaf and he hasn’t been to a concert from the point at which he lost his hearing, because he just feels weird and out of place even thinking about going to something that is so hearing-centered. he enjoys cranking up the music in his car or while he’s listening to it at home, but going to a concert always felt like taking a place from somebody who can enjoy the experience fully. robin told him it’s bullshit and tried to drag him to some venues before, but he never agreed. but well- he doesn’t trust dustin alone in a crowded venue, because he’s excitable and reckless (even though dustin’s “literally 18, god, steve, do you even fucking hear yourself-“) so he feels better going on a concert while actually fulfilling some important role.

they go, and dustin is ecstatic. steve is flabbergasted, because he didn’t expect to gain anything from this except peace of mind for dustin’s safety, but when the first song starts to play, it reverberates through his whole body. it’s not the same as the concerts he went to with his hearing still mostly intact, but he can hear the lower pitches, he can feel the beat thrumming through him, and he finds himself headbanging along with dustin by the end of the show. but because he generally just turned away when dustin was rambling about the ingenuity of the lyrics, dustin ends up spending half the concert scrambling to sign along with the lyrics as much as he can, at least on his favorite parts, because he can’t just let steve not experience the sheer “wholesomeness and coolness” of what’s going on. on some songs he just outright refuses to sign to steve, blushing, and when steve teases and prods dustin angrily admits that he’s “not going to translate to you exactly the way he wants to fuck a pretty boy”. steve laughs, but finds himself blushing too. because the frontman is scorching hot, and maybe steve wouldn’t mind finding out exactly the way he wants to fuck a pretty boy (but definitely not from dustin).

so even though his head started hurting by the end of the night from all the flashing lights on stage, even though he’s sweaty and gross and dustin is jumping around like an overexcited puppy, his hands flashing in rapid-fire speech steve doesn’t have the mental capacity to process at the moment, he finds that he enjoyed himself. that he, dare he say, would not mind going again. dustin goes ballistic at the admission and says that it’s only fair if steve takes him to another cc concert considering that dustin was too busy translating half the show too properly appreciate his first cc concert, which wouldn’t be necessary if steve “bothered to listen to him from time to time”.

afterwards, dustin posts a picture of both of them on twitter, sweaty and exhausted after the show, but both smiling wide with a caption: “took my lame brother to the cc concert yesterday!! he said “i could actually hear something, holy shit. just how loud are these guys? also, would like to know what the fuck the hot guy’s singing in the horny songs, but dustin refused to sign” which, obv i did because my brother is disgusting and i hate him actually. but now he owes me another concert because i spent most of the first one translating, so we’ll see you in *insert the nearest next city*, @corrodedcoffin-official!! thanks for the great show!!”

and eddie comes across the post purely by chance and immediately bluescreens at the sight of a preppy guy in a bright polo with exquisite fucking hair, thank you very much, hugging his toothily smiling little brother in a cc t-shirt. he never considered the issues the Deaf people can face coming to their shows before, and well, if the man wants to know exactly what eddie likes to do to pretty boys like him, it would be a shame to deny him. so he talks to the band, and they hire a sign language interpreter for the next show (and not just because eddie’s horny, okay?? he genuinely wants to let as much people as possible fully enjoy their music, fuck off, gareth-)

and when dustin and steve come to the next show and see an interpreter standing by the stage, they both fucking lose it. when dustin saw a like on his post from the official corroded coffin page, he obviously screamed bloody murder and told everyone who would (and wouldn’t) listen about it, steve just felt awkward about the hot frontman knowing the dumb shit he said, but neither of them expected anything to come of it. and now, seeing the interpreter near the stage, finally finding out the stories the group tells through their music, steve can’t help feeling mesmerized by the scene. and he doesn’t tear up about finally feeling included after being dismissed and told to deal with his shit on his own for so long, of course not.

and then, during the gap between the songs, eddie points to the interpreter: “i would like to say special thanks to amazing *insert name*, who agreed to translate our shitty music in asl so nobody could escape us. i hope dustin and his insanely hot brother can both enjoy the show properly now” he grins at the cheering audience, and steve feels himself flushing bright red all over. he can see the moment the frontman’s eyes find him in the crowd, and the guy has the gall to wink at him. dustin has ascended the mortal plane at that point and just screams incoherently while shaking steve by the arm. “and all the other deaf and hoh folks in attendance tonight, thank you for coming!” he continues smoothly, and the band slides into another song. steve just keeps staring at the stage, uncomprehending. he can vaguely recognize the slower and deeper track as one of those dustin refused to translate to him. and now, actually seeing the lyrics, he can understand why. he flushes again. it feels like his brain starts spinning in circles in his head from how hard he tries to keep his eyes on the interpreter and the frontman at the same time (the shit this munson guy does to the microphone stand with his hips has got to be illegal in at least several states). during the bridge munson finds his eyes in the crowd and obscenely licks his lips. steve dies on the spot. he can feel dustin hitting him on the arm, signing something about the way he “can’t believe your gross jock powers have worked on eddie munson” that steve barely sees from the corner of his eyes, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

and then steddie somehow meet face to face and make out, idk. the end! *jazz hands*

i’m NOT D/deaf or hoh!! if i said something dumb or inaccurate, please tell me!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #deaf steve harrington #i promise it’s not me #some malevolent spirit has possessed me and forces me to dish out rockstar au steddie fic prompts #get steve harrington to be loved and appreciated agenda #dustin henderson #dustin and steve #steddie fic prompt #steddie fic #fic prompt #i love deaf/hoh steve i need more deaf/hoh steve fics #i think it was obvious but i will still clarify #cc did NOT stop hiring interpreters to their shows after eddie got into steve’s pants #now they have an asl interpreter on every show

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eddie4bat-president · 10 months

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I have a vision and that vision is of modern day steddie on tiktok - eddie is moderately successful with his band and on the side he's doing tiktok and YouTube just for fun (but also promotion. You know how it is); he does bts on the tour bus, backstage, at the studio (annoying the shit out of his fellow band members (affectionately)) but also a lot of D&D and fantasy related shenanigans when he's at home

Steve is an EMT and only downloaded tiktok to keep up with the Party and got a following on accident; Dustin posted a video talking about planning something truly reckless including fireworks and Steve stitched it, pointing at the camera "No. Absolutely not, you little shithead! Do you know how many people I've seen who lost fingers doing shit like that?‐" he keeps going until the video abruptly cuts off. The party remains unsure if he was even aware that the video was public and not a private reply and they make fun of both Steve and Dustin the next times they see them and also? run with it.

The kids (plus Robin) keep posting things they know Steve would tell them off for and he keeps stitching them until their videos turn into them just showing a thing and then showing themselves staring meaningfully into the camera and he stitches them tiredly telling them No.

Suddenly he gets tagged in random shitheads doing reckless shit and at first he's confused ("those aren't even my shitheads!") but he gets the joke and plays along until he's suddenly the guy that gets tagged when an object has a phallic shape but no flared base just so he'll point his finger and say "no". I'm imagining he starts branching out from those and the rants (that were originally for his friends) to more vlog-like updates while he does his hair to hair-care tips to first-aid to some fitness. Does he do some of these tiktoks in very tight polo shirts that have his chest hair peeking out and some of them sweaty and shirtless? Maybe. Is he aware that's what a lot of his followers are here for? Absolutely.

Anyway obviously Known Menace Eddie Munson is someone who would look at a suspiciously penis shaped award or a gargantuan d&d figurine or a particularly phallicly bollard and wiggle his eyebrows at a camera. And maybe when Steve gets tagged in one of those he offers him something safer. Like himself.

"Why the fuck did I say that- I can't just say that on the internet- yeah no this one needs a take two, holy shit" he did film a take two. It's just that he posted a tiktok that was both takes. Eddie is a fan.

#i can't write fanfiction but i can write whatever this is #steddie #modern steddie #hey i'm talkin' here #social media au #tiktok steddie #top posts #steddie notfic

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yanderenightmare · 8 months

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Mahito

TW: slight NSFW, degradation, dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome, Mahito in and of himself, platonic to romantic yandere

fem reader

Mahito makes it a point to treat you like an animal – his human pet.

Ever since he first took you. The cage, the collar, the petting, and the treats.

Most of the time, when he talks to you, he acts as though you’re incapable of understanding complex conversation, using only a few words and simple commands – a smile stretching his face, stroking your head when you do good. Other times, he acts as though he’s forgotten you can even speak at all. The worst part is – you don’t really know whether he’s faking or not.

He takes you for walks and plays with you – letting you off the leash for a game of hide´n´seek in the forest where he chases you down barefoot – he doesn’t really care about the rules or that he’s breaking the basic premise of the game. He just laughs, liking the way you pant and wince against the mossy floor after he’s hunted and tackled you down for the umpteenth time, sweaty while you beg him to take you home with teary eyes and puffy cheeks. Home – being where he keeps you.

You used to refuse, you used to run away and fight him when he caught you – with scratching and clawing and biting and barking, but you soon learned to behave. He told you he had no use for rabid pets and threatened you with transfiguration, warning you not to bore him, and ultimately – after having seen him twist enough people into mockeries – you stopped doing much more than obey.

You’re constantly blue with bruises and stinging from scratches – but you wash in the hot springs when Mahito brings you along – soaking your aching muscles in the warmth while he cheats in playing Marco Polo, sneaking a peak and tagging you with a laugh – awfully resembling that of a child. You swear you often have to shake the feeling of mothering him out of your head before doing something regrettable.

Other times, he’ll take you to the beach. You asked him once how it was possible, but he’d just booped your nose with a smile and told you it was something you wouldn’t be able to wrap your little head around – and, looking towards the horizon of the never-ending sea, inside what you could have sworn was a concrete building, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

Sometimes you see his friends and hide behind him. He thinks it funny and excuses you, laughing out that you’re shy. And you suppose he’s right.

You used to be shy around him, too. You don’t know when you accepted it – being his pet.

Lately, he’s been inviting you to sleep with him in his hammock instead of your cage. And everything except your left brain betrays you as you lie snug against his side, with his arm softly holding you around your midriff. He’s so warm, and your whole body feels cottony at the pleasantness of another’s embrace after having gone so long without it. Actually, you almost cry, resting your head atop the rise and fall of his chest, closing your eyes to the steady beat of his heart thumping just beneath your ear. In the moment, you even forget he isn’t human. It just feels nice.

You don’t even mind when he dances his fingers up your arm in ticklish touches. Instead, you nuzzle into him with something so vulnerable as a moan leaving your lips.

His eyes travel from reading the pages of his book to the blissful look on your face and the way your smaller hand grips his tunic – but he doesn’t make much of it aside from raising a brow.

He’s seen scenes like this at the theatre – sappy love stories Junpei used to cry his eyes out over – awkward teenagers in dark silent bedrooms and clothes on the floor, then kisses and hugs and naked flesh and sweat and heavy breaths and moaning. He can’t deny it makes him curious despite never having felt any personal need to truly understand any of it. It's a human thing after all.

Your warmth makes him wonder, though. He’s always enjoyed the soft feel of your skin on his fingertips, whether you’re trembling or not – it has an interesting texture – warm and doughy. He could imagine it would feel good pressed against his body, too.

Without a word, he tugs your shirt up your torso, pulling on it until you raise your arms and allow him to remove it entirely. You became a little tense then, hiding your naked chest from him by folding your arms.

He takes off his tunic just as casually, and you don’t understand it, but suddenly you feel a little blushy. But you don’t say anything – almost as though you’ve forgotten you can speak just the way he pretends.

His skin’s ashen and pale – but his torso is just like a normal guy’s – toned with muscles, two nipples, and a belly button. Oh, and stitches. Like a patchwork.

He lifts his arm, and you take the cue, laying down again – now skin to skin. He’s even warmer now, you note – and something about the feel of bare skin makes your head hot. And you can't help how that heat spreads between your thighs – but you keep it to yourself.

He lifts his book and begins reading it again, turning the pages with the same hand he holds it up with. But his free hand travels from resting on your hip to your chest.

You suppress a shudder by biting your lip, and he cups your tit with absentminded curiosity – paying you not a glance while his eyes lazily skim the words in front of him, giving your breast a firm squeeze.

He keeps track of your small shufflings despite you trying to keep them to yourself – charting what touches elicit your reactions. Soon, he finds your nipple, feeling it stiffen with yearning beneath his thumb, pushing it like a button only for it to bud out again. You stifle a sound he hasn’t heard from you before.

He reads his book finished, then lets it drop flat on the floor beneath you. His statement is like a resolution. “Let’s play a new game.”

You peek up at him from the nook of his arm. “Game?” You ask, but he's already maneuvering your body despite it causing an unsteady swing in the hammock.

He ignores both it and your question. Giving you those very curt commands one would say to a trained pet. “Up on my lap.”

You follow. “Okay-”

You’re straddling him next. Bare-chested while he lifts both hands to cup each tit.

You’re fully flushed now, face steadily getting dewy from the heat as you look away – bowing your head off to the side with your teeth sunk into your lip.

He’s playing. Groping the pillows with fingers now swallowed in the fat before releasing again, twisting the perky nips with eyes feeling a little foggy at the sight. His mouth suddenly waters, thinking about how it looks as though they were made to be eaten – no, not eaten exactly, but something else, something similar...

Indulging the thought, he leans in and envelopes the sensitive things between his lips, sucking on them with his warm wet tongue circling and flicking the point.

Old instincts resurface at the pleasant feeling and you grind your hips down on his lap without thinking.

He falls victim to it, too – taking your hips in both hands while grinding whatever it is that’s gaining weight between his thighs up into that place between yours.

The feeling is more than nice, forcing his entire body to be both mellow and tense with a hunger for more all at the same time.

He presses his face entirely against your chest, nuzzling between the soft mounds there with his cheek. Hands slipping from your hips to pull you closer and grind you harder down on his lap, slithering his arms around the small of your back and hugging you hard.

And you don’t want to think about how fucked up it is when you need it so badly – rolling your hips down, riding that bump you feel nudged against your crotch – like it's the only source of comfort you've had for months. You think about its size – it feels big – you can’t help but picture it – long and pale, probably with a curve and a sharp spine – fuck, you need it – want it pounding your guts, want his pelvis slapping against your clit as his fat cock shoves against your womb – filling you up with thick and filthy warmth-

You still with a shudder when you climax, breaths heavy and shaky. In the blind chase, you’d caressed his head and held it to your chest like a lover would, hugging him close with your body pressed flat against him.

He’s also panting, hot and damp huffs dewy against your skin.

There's something sticky in his pants… and he could have sworn your souls had merged there for a moment...

He’s never felt that before.

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk mahito #mahito smut #mahito #yandere mahito #mahito x reader #mahito jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen mahito #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk headers

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ichxraaa · 2 years

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iwaizumi is so effortlessly dominant and it isn’t fair. it’s not fair the first time he yanks you back by firmly holding your hips with enough strength that you end up bouncing against his broad chest. “careful there, you almost tripped over that”.

it’s not fair how your hands can’t help but get sweaty as he stands in front of you, arms crossed tightly against his chest, tight biceps popping from the sleeves of his black polo and eyes looking down on you as you run your data with him.

it’s not fair that he stands so close behind you when you’re in line at the cafeteria, low voice grazing your ear as he comments on how he doesn’t want you taking away the veggies from your plate.

“nevermind, i’ll set you a plate, go sit over there”.

and it’s honestly pathetic how you don’t object, how you simply agree with him and walk towards the empty table he just pointed at. anyone else trying to pull that crap on you would’ve been long gone from your side.

it’s embarrassing how willing you are to let iwaizumi handle you like this, specially when you’re not even dating. nor has he even gave you the intention of even be attempting to flirt with you.

and you think it’s definitely not fair how one day he simply takes your hand and presses his palm against the dip of your waist, guiding you through all the dolled up people from this sponsor’s party.

“let’s go, i’m taking you out of here so i can finally get you out of this dress”.

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #chubby reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi lives rent free on my mind #.dancing in the moonlight

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remuslovebot · 6 months

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I had a dream about Felix the other night. Take it as inspiration if you'd like. I was crawling on the bed towards him, and he asked me if I was going to be a good girl. When I got close, he took me by surprise and pushed me, so I was lying on my back. Then he was pressed up against me and, with his face centimeters away from mine, told me to beg for it. 💀 I woke up an absolutely mess that morning.

pls i would wake up a mess too 😵‍💫

thank you for this you are a life saver 🙏

hope you enjoy my ramblings xx

18+ minors dni 💋

so this is the idea. when felix invites you over to saltburn for the summer, you guys are attached at the hip. i mean it’s a full on fuck fest 😩

you would spend most of your nights in his room. i imagine him eating you out on the bathroom counter, pounding into you in the maze, teasing you at the dinner table, carrying you back to his bed and being inside of you all night long. 🫠

his hands would be all over you, it would be obnoxious. felix’s love languages are touch and gifts of service and with you it’s definitely both.

he loves seeing you come undone and calls you his “good girl” every chance he gets.

even if you are overstimulated, felix will do his best to get one more orgasm out of you. “awe you can take it lovely girl, that’s my good girl,” he praises, as you become a beautiful mess underneath him.

but he would be so good at after care too. felix would take you in his arms and kiss your sweaty forehead.

gently, he would clean you up and help you into the bathtub.

felix would dress you in one of his polo sweaters and lay down with you in bed. his arms wrapped around your waist and your head tucked safely into his chest.

you guys would swim together and if you were fully alone, he would take you in his arms and fuck you in the water.

felix loves to see you orgasm, to come undone on his cock, fingers, tounge. he is soft sometimes but also he’s rough.

this is so out of pocket and has no story

lmk if you liked this rant xx — send me all your felix smut headcannons <3

#felix catton smut drabble #felix catton smut #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader smut #jacob elordi smut #jacob elordi #felix catton #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton fluff #felix catton headcannons #saltburn

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

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thinking about meeting the batfam for the first time as dick's gf...

Your palms are sweaty as you get ready, something simple Dick had said. ‘It’s just dinner, gorgeous.’

But you know of Bruce Wayne and simple doesn’t seem like what he does.

Still, you go with something classy and casual- a dress. A yellow spring dress that’s all the way to the floor and patterned with little green and blue flowers.

Dick comes in just as you finish your makeup and whistles. “Goddamn,” immediately his hands fall to your hips, pulling you into him the second you set your lip liners down. “You’re a smoke show.”

You giggle and will heat not to flush into your cheeks. “Dick,” he shakes his head. Kissing you quickly and then pulling away.

“It’s going to be great, don’t stress it. Everyone’s gonna love you.” He seems to think his words over as he looks you up and down again. “Actually, Damien might love you a little too much.”

“Dick, he’s a kid.” Damien is the youngest of the Wayne’s; only around thirteen.

When you get to Wayne Manor, you’re glad you’ve worn a dress, Jason is dressed up in soft pants and a polo, Bruce is wearing a black shirt and black dress pants, Dick is matching you a little- blue shirt and soft pants and Damien looks at least a little uncomfortable in the smart clothes he’s in.

“Dick, I really did think you were lying about having a girlfriend.” Jason says and he scowls good naturedly.

“Well, she’s real. Baby this is Jason,” he points to each of them. “Damien and the big guy’s Bruce. Guys, this is Y/N.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you say shyly and they all say the same. Damien who scowls and talks in mostly grumbles through the dinner seems to open up to you and takes pride in saying something flirty just to piss off Dick.

“So what do you do?” Bruce asks and you smile, setting your cutlery down to take a sip of your drink.

“I teach pre-school for now.” You answer honestly and Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up.

“For now?” You nod politely.

“I’m not sure if I want to venture into elementary or middle school or remain with the younger groups. They’re fun, but I also think teaching a group a couple years older would be fun as well.”

Bruce nods, “Maybe you can get a day in Damien’s school to see what it would be like.”

Dick smiles at the offer, knowing the old man doesn’t do that with just anyone.

“So I’d get to see you all day?” Damien asks with a smile and you take a peak at Dick to see him scowling.

“You’re pushing you luck Al Ghul.” Dick says and you roll your eyes.

“Ignore him, he’s all talk no bite.” You whisper to Damien who seems pleased with the fact that you are willing to mess with Dick.

“Want to take a walk around?” Dick asks after the plates are taken away and you nod, taking his hand as he helps you out of the chair and leads you down a hallway.

“They’re nice.” You whisper and Dick grins.

“Yeah? Bruce likes you a lot.” He says honestly and just to see if it’s a real or pretend annoyance you say,

“So does Damien.” Dick rolls his eyes.

“I told you he’d love you too much,” he sighs as you reach a landing. “But he is a kid and he likes being a little shit with me more than the others.”

“Is this your old room, Grayson?” You ask as he pushes open a door and you’re met with a bed, what looks like gymnast equipment and bare cupboards.

“Mhm,” his eyebrows dance and you scoff, slapping his chest making him laugh. “What? I just thought you’d like to see the room that gave me all these bulging muscles.”

You laugh as he flexes but Dick pulls you further into the room. “No but I thought you’d like a little quiet moment before Alfred brings out dessert.”

You raise an eyebrow. Dick smiles bashfully, “I haven’t kissed you since we left the house,” you smile and lean up to kiss his lips. Dick doesn’t let it just be a peck, he keeps you in place with a hand behind your neck and deepens it.

“Better?” You ask him and he nods, kissing your cheeks.

“I don’t like sharing you with them.” He says and you laugh loudly, sitting on his old, springy bed.

“Dick Grayson, I never thought you’d be jealous of your brothers.” He comes closer to you, moving over you till you’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out in the sheets as he hovers over you.

“Jealous? No, those idiots don’t scare me,” One of his hands finds the hem of your dress, stroking the skin of your thigh. “You know I just like you obsessed with me, I like when your eyes are on me only.”

“You’re a menace,” you breathe out and Dick laughs when you move his hand and straighten your dress. “An absolute menace,” you stand and take his outstretched hand. “Take me to see the garden?”

“Whatever you want, my gorgeous girl.”

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson fic #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader

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roosterforme · 1 year

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It's Okay, Daddy's Here | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Even after your honeymoon is over, you find yourself needing your husband all the time. One Saturday, when Bradley is out with the guys, you have an itch you just can't scratch by yourself. When he comes home and finds you a desperate, horny mess, he assures that "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Warnings: Smut and fluff

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

You couldn't understand what had happened to you since you stopped taking your birth control pills, but you'd been insatiable for the last month and a half. The ten day honeymoon you and Bradley had spent in Hawaii had been pure perfection. And now you'd been enjoying your husband as frequently as you could get your hands on him since returning home.

"What do you mean you're going golfing tomorrow morning?" you asked Bradley as you got undressed for bed on Friday night. You paused, naked with his tee shirt in your hands, and gaped at him. "Roo. That'll be hours. And then the guys will want to go out for drinks," you whined. "You won't be here to fuck me."

He groaned and patted his lap before he reached for you. "Tee time at the country club is Javy's Christmas present to all of us, so I agreed to go." You tossed the shirt aside and climbed up onto the bed to straddle his thighs. "But I can cancel, Baby Girl," he grunted, palming your tits as you leaned in closer to kiss him.

"No," you moaned against his mouth. "I don't want Javy to be mad at me. But you better do me so good right now, Roo. Seriously."

"Don't I always?" he growled, flipping you onto your back and running his fingers down along your belly and over your tattoo. "Don't I always take care of you?"

"I have the best husband," you whispered as his lips connected with your neck. Then his fingers met your clit, and he eased his body weight down on top of you. And it was heavenly. And he fucked you hard into the bed until you came, screeching his name. And then you slept all night long, curled up on his warm chest in a state of satiated bliss.

But as soon as you woke up to a cold, empty bed late Saturday morning, you flopped onto your back and tried to coax yourself back to sleep once more. But you couldn't. The need was almost immediate as you sat up. The bedding smelled like Bradley, and you knew you needed to go into the other room.

After you grabbed your glasses and pulled on his soft UVA shirt, you went to make some coffee. But as it brewed, your mind wandered to how good he looked in his white golf pants and polos. You hoped he was wearing that deep blue floral print shirt that hugged his biceps.

"Good Lord," you gasped, fixing your coffee the way you liked it and walking out onto the back patio with Tramp. But even the chilly December San Diego air couldn't cool you down. Bradley was probably getting all sweaty right now, gripping his nine iron and wearing those soft gloves.

"Jesus," you whined, pacing around and sipping your hot coffee. "Just chill. You made it through work all week without him." But that wasn't exactly true. On Tuesday, you'd fucked him on your lunch break in the backseat of the Bronco in the parking garage. And on Thursday afternoon, he'd come into your office reeking like jet fuel and fucked you up against your file cabinet.

Tramp looked up at you when you let out a noise close to a whimper. You finished your coffee and went back inside to start packing for the Christmas holidays, but as soon as you opened your underwear drawer, you caught sight of all of your wedding lingerie, and you had to leave the room again.

A shower. That would help. But you tried hot water and then cold water, and you just ended up with your back pressed against the tile wall, stroking our fingers over your clit. You must be ovulating. That would explain a lot right now. But as you tried to get yourself off, you kept coming up short.

"No," you whined, dipping your fingers into your own slick before bringing them back up to your clit. When you managed to get the tiniest bit of relief, you finished up in the shower and went to get dressed.

But you ended up pulling out your vibrators only to glare at them, because they did not look as appealing as Bradley did. "Fuck," you grumbled, tossing them back where they belonged and kicking your drawer closed.

How much longer could golf possibly take? You'd be fine until you could get the real thing. You could wait.

-----------------------------

Bradley rushed through the eighteenth hole, hoping to get back home to you faster, but the guys weren't having it.

"Let's hit up the bar," Hangman drawled. "Drinks are on me."

Bradley opened his mouth to protest, but Jake cut him off and said, "And don't even try to use your wife as an excuse, Bradshaw. You and Angel can go a few hours without your hands all over each other. The honeymoon is over."

But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Bradley wanted his hands and mouth on you at the moment so badly, he hoped the honeymoon would never end.

"Fine," he grumbled. "One drink." But one turned into two, and the jukebox at the Hard Deck was playing Christmas music, and Penny got him to dance with her before he was able to sneak out. He had been gone most of the day.

As he walked back to the Bronco late in the afternoon sunlight, he texted you and let you know he was finally on his way home. Your response was almost instantaneous.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Hurry

"Damn," he muttered, starting up the engine and rushing home to get to you. He thought maybe you'd be waiting for him in bed, wearing that little red lingerie set he liked so much, but what he discovered was even better.

"Holy shit," he muttered as soon as he walked inside the front door. His golf bag clattered to the floor as you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.

"Roo," you moaned, and it was the neediest, most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. And before he knew it, he was palming himself through his white golf pants at the sight of you naked, straddling the arm of the living room couch. Your back was to him as you rubbed your bare pussy up and down the arm, back arched and whining softly.

He stumbled closer to you, his eyes glued to your ass as you moved in the most appealing way. You were leaving glistening streaks of your slick along the upholstery, and it was so fucking hot.

"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he managed to ask as you looked back at him again.

"I can't help it," you gasped, your voice bordering on pitiful as you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so fucking horny, Bradley. I've tried masturbating all day, but nothing feels as good as you do."

"Oh, Sweetheart," he rasped, unzipping his pants and getting himself ready. "You should have called me."

"Please! I need you. Make it go away."

You were almost in tears now as Bradley put his hands on your hips, helping you rock your soaking wet pussy against the couch. "Shh. Daddy's home now. It's okay, Daddy's here." He stood behind you and kissed your bare shoulder, letting his fingers skim up your belly to stroke the undersides of your breasts.

"Oh! Your fingers feel so good," you groaned, planting your hands on the back of the couch and rocking your hips a little faster.

"How did you get like this, Baby Girl?" he whispered next to your ear, pressing the front of his body to your back as you rocked your pussy along, trying to find some satisfaction. "You're like a dog in heat," he groaned, squeezing your nipples.

"I know," you keened, head tossed back to give him access to your neck. "I'm ovulating."

"Oh, hell," he grunted. That was music to Bradley's ears as you bumped his hard cock with your ass every time you rolled your hips. "You need me to fuck you?" he asked softly, licking a stripe up your neck. "You need my cum?"

"Please, Daddy," you begged softly, but he could hear the desperation there. "Fuck me."

Bradley eased away from you and lifted you up a bit by your hips as you whined. "Aww, Sweetheart," he said, stroking his fingers along your ass down to your soaking wet pussy while he admired the wet spot on the couch. "You need me."

You looked back at him and nodded as he palmed your ass up in the air. "I need you, Daddy," you said, your voice breaking with tears in your eyes.

Bradley stroked your soft skin and asked, "Do you know how bad I want you knocked up?"

You nodded again, practically on the verge of tears. "I know it."

Bradley set you down gently on the arm once more, tipping you forward slightly so your clit was rubbing against the wet spot you made. Then he grabbed his cock as you wiggled your ass at him, just begging to have him fill you up.

"I got you," he promised, rubbing himself through your wetness. "I'll take care of everything."

With one steady thrust, he filled you and bottomed out. A sound of relief escaped you as you moaned, "Daddy." Bradley pulled you snug to him by your hips, and with each fluid thrust, he helped you rock your clit against the couch.

Bradley kept you going at a steady pace, fucking you nice and slow as he guided you along, praising you for being the perfect wife. "You always look so good for me. With your pretty pussy and that ass on display. You know how much I like coming home to find you ready for me?"

"Tell me," you whispered, starting to clench around him.

He kissed along your neck as you jerked yourself along a little faster. "I love it when you're waiting for me to fill you up. I love how needy you are."

Bradley knew you were close now, so he let you ride the arm of the couch and bump back along his length while he held himself still for you. And then you were cumming, shaking against his body, reaching back for his hands as you clenched around his cock and sobbed softly.

"You feel better?" he asked, still fucking you slow and steady. You were like a feral animal that only he was able to tame.

"So much better," you whispered, turning and licking his bicep. "You're all sweaty, Roo. You smell so good."

"Damn it," Bradley grunted. Now he was starting to feel slightly unhinged over you. His wife needed him so badly around the clock right now. He expected that your body would start to adjust to being off birth control, and this extreme need for him would start to ease up. But for now, he didn't mind one bit. And he wanted to keep you filled up with his cum until it took.

He slammed into you a little harder as you gazed lovingly at him over your shoulder. "You can do it, Daddy." He reached for your chin, grabbing you and kissing you a little rough.

"Oh, fuck." Then he was filling you before he collapsed against your back. Bradley ran his hands along your pristine skin, paying extra attention to your tits as he caught his breath. "I can't believe I found you riding the couch like this."

"Nothing would even take the edge off, Bradley. Just you."

He squeezed your tits and ran his nose behind your ear. "I love you. Next time, you call me. I drop everything for you whenever I can. You understand me?"

"Yes." Your voice was soft and calm now, and he could tell you were feeling much better.

"That's my girl." When he withdrew from your pussy, and his cum leaked out onto the arm of the couch, Bradley whispered, "Don't move."

He dug his phone out of his pocket and took some photos of you turning to look at him with a sweet, fucked out expression on your face and a messy pussy. He knew those images would keep him warm when he was deployed. Then he helped you stand right in front of him, and both of you admired the soiled arm of the couch together.

"Beautiful," Bradley murmured next to your ear, stroking his fingers along your belly and wishing.

He watched you run your finger through the mess before licking it and turning to kiss him. You traced his lips with your tongue and he tasted himself before you said, "I'll clean up the couch."

"No, you're going to go get in bed like a good girl. And after I clean up out here, I'll be ready to take the edge off for you again. Okay?"

You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him, and then he watched your ass as you headed to bed to wait for him to take care of you again.

--------------------------

Roo always takes care of his wife! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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undercovercameron · 1 year

Text

hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures.

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home.

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole.

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that.

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention.

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice.

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.”

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it.

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices.

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot.

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back.

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully.

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty.

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him.

“The drink is $6, Rafe.”

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs.

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up.

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that.

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one.

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe.

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element.

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers.

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm.

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up.

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that.

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point.

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks.

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back.

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun.

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends.

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot.

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess.

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people.

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing.

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit.

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him.

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes.

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours.

He tastes exactly how you imagined.

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails.

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach.

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth.

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be.

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take.

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks.

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits.

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip.

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair.

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist.

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this.

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves.

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear.

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache.

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows.

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach.

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you.

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath.

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes.

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus.

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you.

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back.

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you.

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt.

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two.

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own.

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight.

You just silently nod. Cocky.

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words.

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours.

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week.

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation.

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. “You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry.

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close.

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain.

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything.

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face.

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels.

Rafe just purses his lips.

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels.

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn.

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows.

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

#obx #obx 3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x afab!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff

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teresalace · 10 months

Text

🐸 Prince Naveen x Female Reader (NSFW) 🚩 (smut)

💃Happy marital life after the wedding~

▪︎Words: 2110

▪︎Warnings: Teasing, Cunninglingus, Naveen going down on reader on the dinnertable.

😭💕 Wrote this two weeks ago, I'm getting more comfortable with smut writing. Hope y'all enjoy! This is my second instalment of the 'Disney x reader' series 😁 first was Prince Philip. Please enjoy!

~~~~

Cooking is a part of your love language, anything to do with taking good care of your loved ones never tires you out.

Firmly handling a long wooden spoon, you swirled through a bubbling pot of gumbo, nice and slow in the thick stew. The rich meaty mixed vegetables flavor filled the entire kitchen, every breath you'd take in would be a delicious meal as you hummed a jazz tune to yourself.

Even from afar, there was a lovely shine on your slightly sweaty skin casted down from the golden crystal lights fixed to the ceiling. Popping your hips out to every few beats of the boiling pot you continuously stirred. Oh, you couldn't wait to eat right after your husband comes back from his music band, dinner always tasted better with a loved one.

. . .

Click.

Right on time, you heard the soft thud of the front door knob opening and a faint scuffle of shoes being taken off. At that familiar sound, a happy tingly feeling rose from your stomach, not just because you were starting to feel a little peckish but you were looking forward to seeing someone...

A pair of muffled footsteps led towards the kitchen and gave you a lovely surprise.

Hearing a low melodic whistle from behind, you instantly smile and throw back a glance over your shoulder. "Oh you're absolutely glowing, my evangeline. Glowing!" Naveen said enthusiastically, leaning his side against the doorway, his sparkling teeth and wide smile never failing to lift the tiredness within you from a good day's work, his princely presence alone cheering your spirits.

Your lips spread into a loving warm smile as a chuckle rose out of you. "Why thank you, Naveen, you're looking more handsome than usual." And goodness gracious he really was, wearing sleek long pants with that favourite white polo shirt of his, the sleeved clumsily rolled up at the elbows and revealing his firm arms crossed over each other. Emphasizing the muscles there, like he was barely containing himself from springing his arms around you.

"Of course, of course. It is both a burden and a treat to be as unbelievably handsome as I am~" He eagerly ran a hand through his luscious hair and kept it behind his head, posing unashamedly for your eyes. Never failing to reel chuckles and laughter out of you, anytime and any day.

“Uh huh, right. It must be so hard for you, baby.”

He nodded in an exaggerating fashion. "It IS very hard to have a beautiful person such as yourself by my side…” His eyes shut as he loudly breathed in the air, pausing dramatically. “Mmmmm, it smells delicious… Absolutely divine." His eyes reopened and stayed on you like a target, hardly sparing a glance to your side where the stew you cooked was. "Why don't we get comfortable and…”

“-And miss out on dinner? Naveen, we best keep our stomachs full before anything else.” You lightly said, a scolding tone as you shook your head for good measure at his teasing expression.

Putting down the wooden spoon on a plate, you heard a deep, almost mischievous chuckle.

"Oh, I know a way to get full…"

As if he couldn't wait any longer, Naveen gleefully leapt and wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you off your feet with little effort as you yelped being brought out of the kitchen, his grip slightly crushing your breasts and you grumbled when your toes barely grazed the ground.

Like a floating water lily unable to move as easily against rippling water, you felt like you were floating as he carried you onto the dining table.

"Naveen–" Before any protest could come out of your mouth, his lips mashed into yours and sent your body an explosion of tingles to course through.

Not wanting to fall, you had your hands propped behind you on the table surface and continued the harmonic kiss as his warm firm hands fondled the fleshiness of your thighs for his own pleasure. Inching higher and higher towards your hips, massaging gently as his hands dipped underneath the elastics of your underwear and tugged downwards.

Any and all protest disappeared from your mind when a breeze flowed by as your underwear was gone, and you heard a slip of fabric followed by an undone belt falling to the floor.

"I've been looking forward to this meal, princess." His mouth latched to the sensitive nub, with little pressure at first while his fingers rubbed and probed around your vulva in lazy circles to get you worked up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer for better pleasure.

And it was working.

Round and round your labia, working up a slow rhythm that build up a delicious heat in your tightening core, but his chuckles added a cherry on top vibration onto that

It didn't take long with the help of his fingertips, like the skilled musician that he is, played you like a fiddle to spur on your release, your tensed thighs relaxing around his head, an audible sigh of relief letting out from you.

Wow…

"So, how was it, (Name)?"

A slightly sweatier Naveen smirked sweetly up at you, breathing a little heavier, his long tongue running over his glistening wet lips in a smug fashion as if he was savoring your taste and to get a reaction out of you.

You wheezed out an answer with a dazed smile, weakly rolling your eyes at his display, trying to glance down to his handsome face in a pearly sheen from the sweat.

"Very… Very satisfied."

That would be enough for a long while until the next time you'll make love with him.

"Then I'm about to do it again," his happy response was swift like his readied tongue when he dove back down in between your thighs, to your dripping entrance, continuing his expert strokes and rapid flicks on your vulva.

Hardly appearing to be exhausted though you were sure his jaw would've been sore and aching now as his flicking tongue twisted and turned in so many different angles you never knew was possible, worked another explosive orgasm out of you.

Your curling toes, calves tensed as he never stopped his tired tongue from lapping up your juices.

"Ah. I-I already came," half-mewls kept slipping from your lips. "You can rest," you breathed hard and heavy and called out to the head deep in-between your thighs, your fingers interlaced with his dark locks of hair tugging a little to get his attention. "Naveen!"

"I'll stop once you've begged for more~" Now that isn’t fair, that logic of his never helps you at all and he knows that! What a greedy prince.

"Please, don't give me more," you gasped at his sped up tonguing, like adding firewood to a burning furnace. He kept firing you up.

"Naveen! I won't kiss you today if you don't take a break," you grumbled a warning, sweating like rain, meaning every word you said.

Hearing you, he paused, cool puffs of breath closely fanning over your slit and making you twitch but giving you a chance to take in a proper deep breath.

"Fine by me, princess– I'll just kiss your other lips, they look more lonely." The pounding in your chest intensified as your hands clenched onto the table edge, mentally you weren't prepared for his determination in peppering you in ravenous affection.

His tongue resumed drawing all over your intimates, specially licking up any essence of your obvious arousal glistening under the chandelier lights like a pearl.

"From my glorious time being a frog, I have learned to never underestimate what nature can teach you." He added before lowering his entire face down, your hips involuntarily jolting at feeling the sudden pleasures multiplying the second his lips began to kiss your very clit, no doubt swollen from his previous workings.

Almost making you feel jealous of your own…. Self.

Then came his tongue. Oh gosh, his tongue!

It penetrated your stickiness, lava hot, made you squirm involuntarily on the edge of the dinner table. Twisting and turning inside of you skillfully, inch by inch, scissoring you while his fingers prodded around your labia teasingly like he didn't know what to do.

Pleasurable torture is the only way you could describe it as you breathed in through gritted teeth, eyes barely focusing on the chandelier above, your shaky hand pulling onto a tuff of his hair gently.

Every time you even tried to move away from his tongue, his other hand slipped around your waist and secured you in place while his silken tongue kept dancing along your inner walls, his soft lips brushing against your lower ones.

He was french kissing you in another way, gosh. And you were so weak to him.

Finally, your whole body froze and shuddered as you climaxed, locking Naveen's face against your slick for a few seconds until your limbs slackened.

A quiet gasp for air came from below you before a small burst of laughter came.

Both of you needed a moment to breathe deeply, your face flushed in a light sheen of sweat, which was laughable in comparison to Naveen's overly pleased smirk as he rose to his feet, his chest equally as heaving as yours.

Another comfortable moment passed by.

I… really appreciated it. You didn't have to do this so soon, Naveen…" You caressed his cheek, your thumb gently rubbing his cheekbone, watching the warm dark skin turn shades darker beneath... And your wetness shining around his mouth.

He smiled in full satisfaction and leaned into your touch, his blushing never gets old, you knew he really was a sucker for compliments especially from you. "But I really enjoyed it, thank you, honey."

"Oh believe me, it was my pleasure, darling." Yeah you believed him, a certain hard poke at your thigh from below his waistband reminded you that it's going to be your turn to satisfy him.

"Well, It's about time I give you a reward," you smiled wide teasingly, slowly unbuttoning your shirt underneath the apron, his eyes sparkled, you could almost hear his anticipating excitement, following every inch of exposed skin before your apron blocked him. "But first, dinner. I made some good o' gumbo, and we should eat it while it's piping hot." You said smoothly, pushing yourself off the table and stabilizing on wobbly legs.

Naveen laughed out hard and rubbed his belly, joking. "I think I've already eaten plenty—" Oh the gull on this man.

"—Oh no you don't, fun comes later, I will not let you be with an empty stomach no matter how 'full' you say you are. Now come on, honey." You gently cut him off with reddened cheeks, shaking your head in disapproval at him. "There will be no skipping dinner while I'm here, not on my watch."

He jokingly rolled his eyes when you placed a hand on his hard chest and lightly pushed him for you so you'd be able to get unstuck between him and the dinning table.

Smiling, he let you push him to the side as you sauntered into the kitchen, him naturally following you to provide some help in bringing out the plates and utensils to the table. Teamwork always sped things up.

Using two hand towels to grab the hot handles of the still boiling pot, you heaved it onto a pre-prepared thick cloth on the dining table. Naveen already set up the soup bowls for both you and him, large plates and tall glasses for water. All that's left was to bring out the fluffy rice and dinner would be served at last.

Out of nowhere, your husband nervously blurted out as you were about to sit down. "I love you, my princess, I adore you." His glimmering eyes seemed to stare straight into your soul and captured your love all over again.

You paused mid-way and smiled lovingly, "I'd say the same in a heartbeat if I wasn't starving, but I do too. I love you, Naveen."

And just like that, both you and him leaned in over the dining table and kissed briefly... Which turns into one long smooch, leading to three then the loud rumbling of his stomach interrupted the moment right on cue. He sheepishly grinned, "guess I'd better eat before loving."

"My stomach agrees," you giggled, the powerful smell of the gumbo stew making your mouth salivate, and you weren't the only one, looking at Naveen eyeing the soup across from you.

Dinner that evening was a lovely overflow of laughter, praises, conversations and much later a lot of fun loving.

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